Shades of Gray, page 2
“I think his father knew that. Why else would he want his son trained by us? If we can know our genetic matches and form Leska Links with them, who’s to know the Primes can’t tell theirs?”
“The Primes aren’t telepathic, Carrie.”
When she replied with a small grunt, he said again, “They aren’t telepathic.”
Toueesut came forward. “I think perhaps you may be wrong about the Prince. Sensing what was going on I was through the harmonics we use, and to me it is obvious that he has sensitivity. Perhaps he is even empathic, like many of your Brothers and Sisters. Long have I been thinking this, and now I feel I am right.”
“Empathic?” echoed Carrie. “That’s not possible … is it?”
“Who knows?” said Toueesut, spreading his calloused hands. “These Primes are the Intellectual caste, more intelligent than others; it is possible it may have developed over time. I will make peace with my Captain over this. A feeling I have the young Prince felt compelled to act now. Among us are a very few who have sensings of future events …” Toueesut shrugged expressively and left the rest unsaid.
“He’s lived with us, worked with us. If he had any psi abilities, surely we’d have sensed them by now,” said Carrie, her tone doubtful
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Kaid. “We didn’t even guess about Toueesut and his people. Maybe whatever he has doesn’t work the same way our abilities do; perhaps it’s more like the Touibans’. He did say he had a bad feeling about returning home when he asked to stay on with us.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out. Test him,” said Carrie.
“No. He’s going through enough right now.”
“We need to know,” Carrie insisted.
“Ask the little ones,” suggested Toueesut as they all began to move down the corridor again. “If anyone knows, they will.”
Kij’ik, Command Level Briefing room
“Is he purposely keeping me waiting?”
Kezule glanced away from the Brotherhood logo on his comm screen toward the black-pelted Sholan sprawled uncomfortably on the sofa on the other side of his office.
“No,” said Kusac, wincing visibly as he sat up. “Master Rhyaz doesn’t stay in his office all day; he’s usually out and about with the students. He is the leader of the Warrior side of our Order. They’ll have to page him for you. You do realize he was in charge of interrogating you when you were on Shola, don’t you?”
“I haven’t a problem with that. Maybe he’ll be conveniently unavailable,” grunted the Valtegan, checking the screen yet again. Already he wasn’t enjoying this novel experience of asking for help, but he intended to retain the initiative.
“He’ll answer you personally. Whatever else he is, Rhyaz is no moral coward.”
Something in the other’s tone made Kezule look back at him. There was obviously unfinished business between Kusac and this Brotherhood Leader.
“You should still be in the sick bay, or at least resting in your quarters,” he said abruptly, the skin around his eyes creasing as he frowned. “My wife, Zayshul, said Dzaou had sliced up your side and arms pretty well, and I know your injured leg took a pounding in that fight.”
“I’m fine,” Kusac replied, his mobile upright ears flicking in what Kezule recognized as mild annoyance. “Just beginning to stiffen up, that’s all. You know Dzaou was bucking my authority from the get-go. Our fight was long overdue.”
Kezule grunted his disbelief and turned back to the comm just as the warning tone sounded for his incoming call. The screen changed to show a brown-pelted Sholan male dressed in a purple-edged gray robe.
“General Kezule, I’m Commander Rhyaz, Guild Master of the Warriors in the Brotherhood of Vartra. My colleague L’Seuli, leader of our Haven Outpost, said you’d be contacting me.”
“We’ve met,” said Kezule shortly, eyes narrowing as he remembered the male who’d been one of his more aggressive interrogators when he’d been a prisoner on Shola.
“So we have. You have a hard head, as I remember. I broke one of my fingers on it.”
“Did you now?” The corners of Kezule’s wide mouth twitched slightly in an involuntary smile. Kusac was right: Rhyaz was meeting him head-on, with no apologies. “Maybe there’s some justice in the universe after all,” he murmured sotto voce.
“I’m told this new emperor is K’hedduk, leader of the Directorate,” said Rhyaz, ignoring the comment.
“He’s also the younger brother of the M’zullian Emperor. It’s imperative that he be removed from the Throne of Light as soon as possible,” said Kezule, “before reinforcements arrive.”
“Surely he’s preempting his own ruler? Won’t that destabilize M’zull—and be to our advantage?” said Rhyaz blandly.
“I’m aware of his intercepted messages to his generals, Commander,” said Kezule. “We both know that by now there’s likely been a coup on M’zull. By taking the throne, K’hedduk has reunified two of the remaining three worlds— and he believes Ch’almuth is a ripe fruit waiting for him to pluck at his leisure. We must take back the Palace and put Prince—Emperor Zsurtul,” he corrected himself, “on his rightful throne.”
Rhyaz glanced at some printouts beside him. “That shouldn’t be too difficult, Kezule, looking at the data you sent us on the Palace. It isn’t that large, only about the size of Ranz, if you include the City around it. If we can get our destroyer in close enough…”
“The Palace cannot be destroyed,” Kezule interrupted. “Both it and the throne have a deeply religious significance to us. Unless he’s crowned on the Throne of Light, Zsurtul will never be accepted by the Primes as Emperor. Then there’s the civilian population … I want as little collateral damage as possible.”
He watched Rhyaz raise an eye ridge, but the Sholan Commander said nothing.
“We’re looking at a combined air and land assault, Rhyaz,” he continued, using the Brotherhood Warrior Leader’s name for the first time.
“That complicates matters. We need to get past the craft guarding your world, K’oish’ik. When we do, our ship does have drop capabilities and ancillary fighters. I’ll contact Commander L’Seuli, and we’ll draft a battle plan. You can liaise with him when he rendezvouses with you.”
“I think you misunderstand me, Commander.” Kezule forced himself to keep his voice soft. “While I’m willing to consider your suggestions, I’ll be leading this mission jointly with Captain Aldatan. Your warriors will be assisting us.”
Again Rhyaz raised his eye ridge. “Able though the Captain is, he’s hardly an appropriate choice. He lacks…”
“He knows my Primes,” interrupted Kezule. “He’s worked with them here for these past five months—they trust each other. With respect, they don’t know any other Sholans apart from him and his crew.”
The Sholan pursued his point. “Captain Aldatan lacks the necessary experience and seniority …”
“It’s not negotiable—if your Brotherhood wants first chance at more Prime technology,” he interrupted bluntly. “Frankly, I didn’t expect you to be so hypocritical, considering the circumstances surrounding Kusac’s departure for here.”
Rhyaz regarded him silently, but Kezule could see the traces of the other’s anger by the slight narrowing of his eyes and in the way his ears flared fractionally. He hadn’t liked that—or expected it. Good, he might need the help Rhyaz could provide, but he’d be damned if he’d let him think he was taking over this mission.
“Very well,” Rhyaz agreed, his tone icy. “However, I can speak only for the Brotherhood, not for Shola or the Alliance.”
“Understood. I need our Emperor-elect brought here to my Outpost, Kij’ik. He’ll be safe here with my family until we’ve retaken K’oish’ik.”
“That’s beyond my ability to do. We don’t have access to the Prince … Emperor Zsurtul.”
“Then I suggest you get it,” said Kezule sharply, leaning forward. “His place is with his people. He cannot be crowned anywhere but on K’oish’ik, I thought I made that clear.”
“It’s out of my hands, General,” said Rhyaz, his slight smile ironic. “The last I heard about him, your Emperor was staying on Captain Aldatan’s estate. It’s likely Governor Nesul has requested that he be relocated in secure quarters at the Palace.”
“If you believe I’ll tolerate him being held to ransom,” began Kezule, his crest rising in anger… .
“I don’t, and neither would we,” interrupted Rhyaz coldly. “In that unlikely event, I assure you, he’ll be liberated by our personnel.”
Kezule searched the Sholan face on the comm screen, then took a deep breath. “I hope you understand that Zsurtul is all that stands between me and a job I swore not to take. I left K’oish’ik for that reason,” he said softly. “Zsurtul is in no danger from me. I’ll stay only long enough to see him crowned and surrounded by trustworthy advisers; then I plan to return here to Kij’ik.”
“I believe you,” said Rhyaz, surprising him. “However, it may be necessary for you to remain with the young Emperor during the inevitable M’zullian crisis. As you no doubt know, all Primes are too light in color to be able to negotiate with the M’zullians. Only you have the same skin tones as they and can therefore be seen as an equal.”
Kezule frowned. He didn’t want to remain tied to the Court for a moment longer than it took to get Zsurtul onto the throne. “We’ll see,” he said abruptly. “If we didn’t need their bloodlines, I’d advise the Alliance to destroy M’zull and everyone on it.”
“Genocide isn’t an option, General,” said Rhyaz. “No matter how tempting, even if we had the means.”
Kezule grunted. He’d expected no other answer from the Sholan; they didn’t have the stomach for such drastic solutions.
“Tell him to send the MUTAC,” said Kusac suddenly, keeping his voice low enough so only Kezule could hear him.
Without batting an eye, Kezule said, “Send the MUTAC, Rhyaz. It’s essential to our plan.”
Rhyaz’s expression froze momentarily. “So Captain Aldatan is beside you,” he said softly. “Then he should have told you we considered it a failed experiment.”
“Nevertheless, send it,” repeated Kezule, keeping his eyes fixed on the Commander.
Rhyaz shrugged. “If you wish, though it will do you little good.”
“How long until your people arrive here?”
“Kaid Tallinu and his team should be with you in three days, Commander L’Seuli and our destroyer in six, since they have to come from our Haven outpost. As I said, as well as thirty fighters, it carries five hundred drop pods for our armored Brothers and Sisters acting as ground forces.”
“That should be more than enough. The Palace isn’t that large, and by our reckoning, K’hedduk has just under three hundred and fifty people capable of fighting. The City and the rest of K’oish’ik can be discounted—it’s in an advanced state of urban decay.”
Rhyaz gave him a measured look and, choosing his words with obvious care, said, “It would be a tragedy if the Intellectual caste was lost to your species’ gene pool, Kezule.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing on Kij’ik, with Captain Aldatan’s help,” said Kezule shortly, reaching out to disconnect the call. “I’ll see your Commander L’Seuli in six days.”
Kusac waited until Kezule leaned back in his chair before speaking. “The MUTAC is a multi-terrain attack carrier. It carries only a pilot, but it has a very basic cargo area that would hold one injured person.”
“Rhyaz said it was a failed experiment.”
He spread his hands expressively, wondering what had prompted him to ask for it. “Depends on your point of view. It will look terrifying when it bounds into a battle.”
“Bounds?”
“It’s shaped like us, but it walks—or runs—on all fours. It has jets on each leg and can be used in a HALO drop. Armaments are explosive and guided missiles, and there’s a top-mounted beam weapon. It’s capable of standing upright and using its clawed feet to pull down structures. All in all, it’s a useful piece of hardware, designed more for backup and inspiring terror than heavy fighting.”
“How many of these have you?” asked Kezule, obviously intensely interested.
“Only the one. It’s a Brotherhood prototype made when I was staying at Stronghold. It proved to be somewhat difficult to control with the levers and gears used to operate it.”
“Then why …”
“For the look of it, Kezule, and the thought that maybe, since we know Kaid is with the Touibans, they may be able to find a way to adapt it for us. Forget that for the moment; we can’t wait six days for Rhyaz to get here. K’hedduk’s been in power now for nearly two weeks. Every day that passes he’s digging himself in deeper.”
“I know, but we have no choice. We don’t have nearly enough people to mount an assault ourselves.”
“We can, with the right plan.”
“I’m calling a briefing in an hour, in the room across the corridor. We’ll discuss plans then,” said Kezule tiredly.
“You’ve met L’Seuli too,” said Kusac, getting stiffly to his feet.
Kezule glanced over at him again.
“During your captivity, he acted out the reasonable soldier routine when they thought you were cooperating,” Kusac elaborated. “And head of the Sholan Forces is General Raiban—she took you into custody at the edges of the desert when we brought you forward in time.”
A hiss of anger greeted his disclosure.
“You were an extremely high-level captive then, Kezule,” he said with an almost feral grin of amusement.
“Stop trying to manipulate me, Kusac; you’ve made your point,” the Valtegan said. “I have no option but to ask for Sholan help.”
“The Brotherhood’s, yes. Shola’s—no. Don’t ask for military help. Call Shola, but ask for aid from the Alliance in rebuilding K’oish’ik. You’ll need it when you realize your social engineering program can be realistically continued only on your home world.”
“K’oish’ik isn’t my home world,” Kezule snapped. “I was hatched on an outpost world. Stop reading my mind, Kusac!”
“I’m not,” he said mildly, leaning against the sofa for support. His body ached now that the analgesics Zayshul had given him after his fight with Dzaou were beginning to wear off. “It’s obvious Zsurtul needs more than just a city, no matter how holy, to sustain him and his people. That world needs rebuilding, and you have an excellent beginning here. You’ve known all along that at some point you’d have to leave here for a planet.”
“One day,” Kezule admitted grudgingly.
“Dare to be truly different from the rest of your caste, Kezule, and give your people a positive legacy,” said Kusac softly.
Kezule stared unblinkingly at him for the space of several heartbeats before looking away. “Will I have to speak to this Raiban female when I call Shola?” he asked instead.
“No, you’ll be put through to one of the Governor’s aides, then to Nesul himself. General Raiban takes her orders from the ruling Council of Shola and of the Alliance. We’re not ruled by the military, thank Vartra! I need to speak to my son now, Kezule. I’ll see you at the briefing in an hour,” he said, pushing himself upright and limping toward the door.
“Bring Lieutenant Banner with you,” Kezule called out after him as he stepped out into the corridor.
Kusac’s quarters
“We need to have a serious talk, Shaidan,” Kusac said, shivering slightly as he ushered his son into the lounge area of his quarters. He checked the thermostat, surprised to find it at the usual temperature; he hoped he wasn’t developing a fever. “Would you like a drink? A fruit juice or something hot?” he asked, before heading for the dispensing unit by the meal bar.
“A keffa, please,” the cub said, trotting over to the sofa and easy chairs. “Is something wrong, Father? I can’t sense your mind at all.”
“I’m just marshaling my thoughts,” he said, grabbing two mugs and sticking one on the dispenser pad. He programmed in a coffee for himself and a keffa for his son.
Behind his strong mental shielding, as he was now, he could only just sense Shaidan’s mind. “It’s not been easy for you, I know. From the beginning, you were thrust into the midst of an adult world. Just how much you’ve been aware of, I’m not completely sure, but it’s time you learned some of the truths and reasons behind what’s been happening around you.”
He found his son’s silence unnerving. Picking up the two mugs, he went over to join him.
Shaidan was sitting curled up in one of the easy chairs, his posture one of confusion and self-protection. Kusac sighed. As usual, he wasn’t handling this well, he realized as he placed the mugs on the low table and took a seat on the sofa opposite the cub. He lowered his shielding slightly in an effort to get closer to his son.
Head now bowed, Shaidan seemed to shrink even farther into the chair, his tail tip twitching erratically in obvious distress.
“You’re going to send me away as soon as they arrive, aren’t you?” the cub said finally, looking up, his eyes glinting with unshed tears.
“Absolutely not!” Kusac said firmly, holding his hand out in invitation to the cub. “You’re my son; you’ll stay with me until I can take you home myself.”
Shaidan blinked furiously, obviously determined not to cry. “You promise you won’t make me go with strangers?”
“I swear it. Come here,” Kusac urged, reaching his hand out farther toward him, remembering that though his son was physically ten years old, he’d been “born” less than a year ago as a result of the Directorate’s illegal genetic experiments. “I swear that while I still draw breath, you will never be sent to strangers.”
Shaidan slid off his chair and, taking his father’s hand, allowed himself to be pulled up beside him on the sofa. “Then why are you so worried?” he asked.
“I have some difficult things to tell you,” Kusac said, bracing himself mentally as he tucked his arm around his son. “You’ve been told about how the Directorate created you, but they didn’t just steal genetic material from myself and … Carrie,” he began, wishing it weren’t still so difficult to talk about her. “They also stole from Doctor Zayshul and combined it with ours to make you. As well as being a Human/Sholan hybrid like your sisters, you’re also a very little part Prime.”
