Shades of Gray (34 page)

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Authors: Lisanne Norman

BOOK: Shades of Gray
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Ninety seconds later, he was done. Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, he packed his kit away, checking to see how the rest were doing.
Khadui, J’korrash, and M’kou were finished and helping those beside them. Valden had completed his handgun inspection—they were all dry and functional, though the youth’s own weapon had been jammed in its recess, and Q’almo had had to force it open.
He sat there impatiently, every second ticking down in his mind. By two minutes and five seconds, everyone was finished.
“Good work,” he said, getting to his feet.
M’kou’s suit was the only one to have taken on any water. A search found one small dent in the left leg piece, which was quickly rectified by slapping a temporary patch over it.
“You’ll do,” he said, after double-checking it for himself.
“The water’s gone into my boot,” M’kou complained, shaking his leg.
Khadui laughed. “Shaking it won’t help. One of the joys of being an Operative, M’kou! Welcome to the Special Forces!”
“If you’re all ready,” Kusac began in an ominous tone.
Everyone scrambled to his or her feet.
“Check that your suits have returned to normal gee, and let’s get moving.”
In midstride, he was stopped dead by yet another shriek from Carrie. Stumbling, he staggered into Khadui, only to be grabbed by M’kou.
“Captain! What’s wrong?”
Dragged into Carrie’s mind by her terror, he barely heard him.
Carrie screamed long and loud as the shell surrounding her suddenly disintegrated, and she saw herself plunging through the air to the ground far below.
Carrie! The chute! Release your chute!
sent Kaid, but Carrie’s terror was too great for him to reach her.
 
“Chute,” Kusac muttered. “Open the chute, cub!”
He seized her mind in an iron grip as, in sheer terror, her head searched blindly for the right control.
Here,
sent Kusac, containing her fear, calming it as only he could. When she hit the control, he sensed the small ancillary chute opening and beginning to pull the main one free.
Now turn off the light. You want your night vision on, with IR filtering. Concentrate on the controls. You practiced it often enough today. That’s right,
he sent as she finally got the chute to deploy.
The light, Carrie, turn it off too . . .
 
The sudden jerk of the fully deployed chute came as another shock, and instinctively she grabbed hold of the cords. Then she was floating, and Kusac had gone again.
 
“He must have hit his head harder than I realized,” said Zhalmo. “Get his helmet off, I need to do a visual check on him!”
He was aware of being pulled about as Khadui began to examine his forearm panel, and Zhalmo and M’kou started working on his helmet seals. He could do nothing to tell them he was all right, that it was just Carrie’s fear that had pulled him out of himself.
“What did he say?” demanded M’kou.
“Something about chutes,” said Khadui. “His telemetry’s fine, the automed treated him when he hit his head.”
“Cub? Whose cub?”
“Shut up, M’kou,” snapped Zhalmo, finding the emergency latches on Kusac’s helm and triggering them.
“But . . .”
“It’s his wife, dammit! Now do something useful!”
 
Just as he was beginning to recover, he was jerked back again.
Kusac! The chute’s breaking off!
“Jets,” he mumbled.
Jets, Carrie. Count to ten then trigger them.
Too late! Turn them on now, Carrie!
Kaid’s mind, his mental training pushed aside in his need to save Carrie, was pure raw power as it thundered through both of theirs.
Now!
Do it
, sent Kusac, letting all caution go as he forced her mind to Link completely with his.
He looked through her eyes, seeing the ground so close—too close. Fumbling, he forced her hand over to the jet controls on her right forearm. Moments later,
they
were thrust momentarily upward as the jets broke her descent. The pressure forced her to remain upright, but as the burn lessened, he felt her begin to wobble.
A moment of panic almost overwhelmed even him, but Kaid was there, his strong, steadying presence taking control for the final moments.
I have you—both.
There was surprise in his tone, and Kusac knew his sword-brother hadn’t expected to find him there, Leska Linked to Carrie—and now to him.
Explanations would be wanted, demanded probably, ones he couldn’t yet give them. He began to withdraw, then stopped.
We’re not at the Command center yet. There were traps, a large reptile . . . We’re all fine. Stay hidden till I send to you. And, Tallinu—get someone to the hostages fast. They plan to take the female to the harem this morning. They’re here.
He sent the images he’d taken from Shamgar while on the Orbital.
What?
Kaid cursed briefly.
I’ll see to it. Be quick, our air cover’s due in twenty minutes. We’ll wait for your signal. Stay safe, sword-brother.
Take care!
sent Carrie as he broke contact.
And you.
Keeping up the pretense that Zayshul mattered more to him than they did would be even more difficult and painful now.
 
“Captain, drink this,” said Zhalmo insistently, pushing a container against his lips.
Still confused, he opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to orient himself. It had been . . . too long since he’d mind Linked with either of his Triad, and the experience had left him not just aching at the loss, but not quite sure he was back in his own body.
As the liquid began to dribble down his chin, he swallowed convulsively, bringing up his hand to push the container away. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, one he knew well.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he snapped, struggling to sit up. When had they gotten him down onto the ground? “Where’s my helmet? What’s it doing off? Gods, that damned norrta head stinks, Zsurtul!”
“He’s fine,” said Khadui, holding out a helping hand and pulling him up to his feet when he took it. “One of those telepathic contacts, that’s all.”
“Captain?” asked Zhalmo.
“My helmet, please. I’m fine, Zhalmo. I don’t need your analgesics. We have to hurry; the drop squad has landed. At least none of the rest of you took your helmets off!”
“Have you . . .” began M’kou, handing him his helmet as Zhalmo began to stash her small medkit away again.
“I’ve told them to wait for word from me before attacking,” he said, lowering his helmet over his head and latching it in place.
As soon as the seal engaged, he felt the flow of oxygen start up.
Khadui tossed him his rifle, and they began to move off.
“Zsurtul, does that norrta stink like that all the time, or just when it’s dead?” he asked as they jogged around the bend toward the last junction.
“Oh, it always smells like that,” said the youth cheerfully. “Smells worse when it’s been dead a couple of days, so my father told me.”
“We’re out of time now, can’t be subtle about breaking into the command room. If we blew a hole in the wall, stuck that head through . . .”
“They’d panic,” Zsurtul confirmed. “Anyone with any sense would. An enraged norrta is capable of knocking a wall down.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. M’kou, you and J’korrash have your gas canisters loaded up. I want them fired into the room as soon as we breach the emergency exit. You have enough explosives, Khadui?”
“Plenty, but I’ll take some of those you’re carrying too, Captain. Just to be sure.”
Ghioass
, Camarilla
Kuvaa stood in the empty Camarilla chamber watching Unity’s projection as the potentialities meandered their way across the interface. For the last few days, unusually, the projection had been slow, almost peaceful. Except at the nexus point. It was there she was watching. There were things happening she didn’t understand, was not sure how to interpret.
“The Hunter becomes stronger,” said a voice behind her.
Turning, she found Khassis there. “Yes, Skepp Lady, he does.”
“What will he become, I wonder?” The TeLaxaudin reached out and touched the center of the flowing, swirling mass of colors with a long, thin, bronzed digit.
Kuvaa tried to suppress her sharp intake of breath as she watched the colors eddy around the Elder’s finger.
“A representation only, Kuvaa,” said Khassis, amusement in her mental tone. “Look.”
She thrust her hand deeper into the projection, letting the swirling ribbons of light cling to her wrist before sharply withdrawing it. Wisps of light shimmered in the air, hung for an instant then winked out of existence.
“It remains here.”
Kuvaa’s gaze was riveted on Khassis, where the colored ribbons roiled and twisted around her wrist like a living entity.
“How . . .” she began, then stopped as Khassis held that hand out to her.
“You manipulate matter. Take it from me.”
“But why?” she asked, even as she reached for it.
Khassis let the strands twist and wriggle from her into the outstretched paws of Kuvaa.
“Time you learned how to directly affect the potentialities if you are to counter the plans of the Isolationists. This is as real as you want it to be.”
Stunned, she stood there, colors swirling around in her paws like a miniature whirlpool of light. The colors were changing slowly, losing their brilliance. “Real?” she whispered. “You said it was a projection.”
“Until you make it real. If you let them fade, then the moment will pass, and your direct intervention will be impossible. Make it real. Do it now, before it’s too late.”
“Do what? I don’t understand.”
“In the center, do you see where hot and cold dance together?”
She looked, unable to see what the elder was talking about. Then, a brief flash of blue-white caught her eye. “Yes!”
“Ah, then it is not just me,” Khassis said with satisfaction. “Touch it with your mind and abilities, bend it to your will.”
“Why? What is it?”
“Something I’ve only seen once or twice—an influence beyond us, one that hides itself from our control.”
“I thought that was impossible.”
“I thought so too until I first saw it. The moment passes, you must act swiftly.”
“And do what? What is the desired outcome?” She was confused, unsure. In her hands the colors were fading, turning a dark earth brown.
“What outcome do you want?”
“I can’t decide! I’m a Junior, I have no say!”
“Now you have. Do it now, or let it pass. Better you than Zaimiss.”
The thought overwhelmed her, left her wondering why Khassis had chosen her. Then her resolve hardened, and she looked at the Elder.
“No,” she said. “Everything should not be controlled. What if I choose wrong? I will leave it as it is, let the unknown element remain.” She closed her paws on the now motionless brown puddle, watching as it squeezed between her hooves, dribbling down to the floor, dissipating before it landed.
“Your friends wait outside for you,” said Khassis. “Tell them I am content. Time to find a replacement for you.”
Kuvaa was left alone again, wondering what had just happened. Then the words hit her. “Replace me?”
Always there must be Juniors learning our skills, Kuvaa,
sent Shvosi.
Now your turn, as Senior, to teach.
But . . .
she began.
Enough!
sent Azwokkus.
Confused is she! Promotion, that was, Kuvaa. Join us, we tell you.
She gave a last look at the projection as she dropped down onto all four feet and trotted along the path between the cushions and sloping recliners of her people, to the exit. Had the last few minutes really happened?
“Very real,” said Azwokkus as he came to meet her, his pastel blue and lilac draperies exuding a pleased aroma. “The power have we to make changes on our own. Discipline and belief that we do make errors, cannot know everything, is vital for position we hold.”

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