Shades of Gray (100 page)

A trilling riff of sound suddenly burst out on Channel 8, startling all but Kusac, who began to laugh gently.

“What the hell was that?” asked Kaid.

“Toueesut telling us all is well,” he said. “Specifically, he said, “Leaving the mudrakers to you. Introduce them to the Sholan hell they deserve.”

“All that in one trill,” said Rezac. “No wonder they talk nonstop!”

There was a ripple of general laughter on the channel, and Kusac felt everyone’s mood ease a little.

They went back to trudging through the snow in silence.

At least we’re not wet or cold,
sent Carrie from beside him.
It could be a lot worse. And the armor takes the work out of walking.

True,
he agreed.
I’ll be happier when we’ve reached those caves, though.

 

It was a good three hours before they did. When they got there, Kusac checked them out mentally for any life-forms and found them empty.

The entrance was narrow, opening up into a wider cave that led in turn to a large cavern with no other exits.

Setting a guard at the entrance, they started making camp. The tents, again courtesy of the Touibans, were self-expanding, with anchor loops and guy ropes if needed. They were modular, each for two people, and could be fitted together to form larger units. Each also had its own AC and security system built in, this a Sholan feature that had been added.

Kaid and Kusac let the group pair off as they wished, but they had the tents set up in a semicircle facing the entrance. They each carried their own eating and cooking utensils and a small stove with several battery packs, but there was a larger, communal one in one of the crates.

The crates held winter clothing for them all, vacuum packed to save space, and chameleon suits made of wind-and weatherproof material. There was more—weapon packs, other ammunition, a charger for the armor batteries, and a small generator, flashlights, and other assorted gear they had packed on K’oish’ik, including some instant hot meals and drinks.

T’Chebbi took charge of handing out the supplies as soon as the tents were up. Meanwhile, Carrie supervised them getting out of their armor at the back of the cave, where it was stored out of sight behind a large pile of loose rocks they’d stacked there for that purpose.

Cheelar was at the entrance setting up the force field across it to keep out wild beasts and the flakes of snow that had begun to fall. He set it far enough in to stop the snow piling against it but not so far that the guards could not see out without being seen. Kushool, still in her armor, was taking first watch. It was too cold to wear anything else when on guard duty. They set up a second force field across the entrance to the main cavern to keep the heat in. As they each had an identity chip in their uniforms, they could pass through the fields, but nothing else could.

They gathered around the central area where J’korrash had set up one of the larger stoves for warmth and heating water. Sitting on the lightweight foil blankets that would line their tents, they ate and chatted, drinking the hot maush that J’korrash had brewed for them all in several of the pans. The snow outside had thankfully tested pure enough to use for drinking and cooking.

Kusac excused himself to go over to the group of four tents that had been linked together. His people had decided the team leaders should be in the center of the semicircle, with the rest of them on either side. The tents weren’t tall enough to stand up in, but they were long enough and wide enough for two people to sleep in with a crawl space between. At the back there was a small section large enough for two backpacks.

Sleeping bags had already been spread out for him and Carrie and their backpacks stored at the rear. Circuits giving off heat or cool air, as needed, were built into the struts and turned on automatically as he entered.

He needed to deal with the voice that had tried to force him back into the cavern. It didn’t matter that it had failed or that he’d been able to silence it; what mattered was that it had happened.

Stretching out on his sleeping bag, he clasped his hands behind his head and tried to relax. He was utterly convinced that the voice had to be linked to the Cabbarans and the TeLaxaudin, specifically Annuur, and probably Giyarishis as he’d been the one on Kij’ik. Their network was an integral part of the puzzle. He knew that the Cabbarans had telepaths, but he had assumed that only Naacha, in Annuur’s group, was one. They all had to be at least receptive to him. What if Naacha was capable of linking them into a telepathic unit?

The TeLaxaudin, he knew, were technophiles and scientists. Were they using the network to simulate a form of telepathy? They certainly used tech to work on building the adobe houses with the Cabbarans. Or maybe they both made use of it to enhance their mental abilities? He did know the network wasn’t made only of inert materials. There had been a biological component about it too—and the TeLaxaudin ships were made of a semiliving material that had been grown, not manufactured.

All the bits were part of the same jigsaw, but he couldn’t see clearly where they belonged yet. The voice, or compulsion, was always demanding he do something against his nature—Link mentally to Zayshul, let Zsurtul die, and, finally, search the cavern for something rather than rescue Zhalmo. Unconsciously, he began to rub a faint itch on the inside of his wrist.

Or had it this time? It hadn’t tried to prevent him from rescuing Zhalmo, but it had wanted him to go somewhere else first. When he’d shut the voice up, it hadn’t come back, not even when he was in the cavern again. It was as if it knew he had to rescue her, and that once he had, he had to return her to their ship and get her safely off M’zull.

He sighed. Perhaps he was reading too much into all this. But how deep did the Cabbaran and TeLaxaudin involvement in their affairs go? Were they present on this world too? Were they manipulating the M’zullians, making them aggressive and bent on dominating every race they met?

Almost as he thought it, he knew, as clearly as if a voice in his mind had said it, that they weren’t. He pounced on the thought, finding it was on the same frequency as the one earlier that day. He followed it, only to find that he was suddenly the prey as his mind was seized and held. Then darkness swept over him.

He regained consciousness in an alien place of nothingness. A pale shimmering light, like the inside of a frosted bubble, surrounded him. Sitting up slowly, he took stock of himself first. Interestingly, he was Sholan now, and wearing his black tunic. Reaching out with his mind, he could sense only as far as the edges of the bubble, but he knew there were beings out there.

Answers you want, Hunter,
said a voice inside his mind.
Cannot give them to you yet.

Who are you?
he demanded, getting up into a crouch, ready to fight.

We encouraged you to take the mission,
a second voice said.

It was my decision alone!
he snapped, turning around, trying to see through the pale glow, to find out who was out there.

Was it?
asked the first.
Or did we . . . encourage you?

The memory of how he’d impulsively offered to rescue Zhalmo played back in his mind. “Stop that,” he said, standing up. “Get out of my mind! You have no right to be there!” He pushed at the presences, putting all his energy behind it, and expelled them. “If you have something to say, then do it in person! Don’t steal into my mind like thieves!”

Silence fell, then gradually the pearly light faded to darkness and two figures appeared, one TeLaxaudin, and one Cabbaran.

“Annuur,” he said. “I knew you were up to your fuzzy butt in this. Who’s the TeLaxaudin?”

Annuur’s long nose wrinkled as he reared up on his haunches.

The TeLaxaudin was different from those he’d met before, Kusac realized. This one was older, the body rounder, the bronzed flesh slightly more golden in places, and it was dressed in voluminous strips of blue and lilac draperies that rippled as if in a breeze.

A low humming came from it, and then the speech became Sholan.

“Khassis. I am a female and Elder of my people.”

He walked toward them only to be stopped by the boundary of the bubble.

“It is not prison,” said Khassis, in response to his mounting anger. “A place for your mind and ours to talk in safety only. You are not on our world so have to be in there.”

Placing his hand on the smooth surface, he looked out at them. “Why have you called me here?” he demanded, quietly letting his mind drift into the fabric of the bubble, sense its composition. “What do you want of me?”

“Urgently must you go back to the cavern,” said Khassis.

“Why should I do anything you demand of me? You tried to make me let Zsurtul die, forced me apart from my family, tried to make me Link mentally with Zayshul,” he said with mounting anger.

Khassis held up one small hand. “No,” she said with finality. “We do not. We risk all to call you here.”

Annuur stirred, his ears flicking as the whiskers on his long nose twitched. “Did we not help you on Shola? Your Talent returned to you with no asking for anything in return? How we be your enemy, Hunter?”

His hand closed into a near fist, claws coming out to sink deep into the fabric of the bubble. With a sudden ripping sound, he tore its fabric open and stepped out into their reality.

“Hunter?” he said, pelt and hair bushing out until he was almost twice his size. “You have that right,” he purred, pacing slowly toward them, tail flicking in short, jerky motions.

Khassis looked up at him, her hands returning to their usual position in front of her body. “Your nature we know, Hunter, but your prey now is M’zull, not us,” she said calmly.

“Maybe, but when your time comes . . .”

“Answer you we will,” interrupted Annuur. “M’zull will win unless you return to Palace cavern.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” he asked, pacing around them, intrigued that they ignored his presence and the threat he obviously presented. “You know so much, yet you ignore the fact that we left it like an anthill that had been kicked over!”

“Not ignore,” said Annuur. “Help be given you.”

He stopped in front of them. “Help? Like you gave Vartra?” he asked, suddenly knowing where the Entity had been when he disappeared.

Annuur winced. “Not us.”

“You say
not us
too often,” snarled Kusac, lunging forward to cuff Annuur hard on the side of the head, trying not to fall over when his hand went right through him.

“Not us,” said Khassis. “Three factions there are; we are not in ascendency now. We risk much calling you here.”

“You risk nothing compared to us!” Kusac roared in anger, arms, hands, and claws extended.

“I will take you,” said Annuur, looking sideways at Khassis, then back to him.

“I will not go! I’m not your puppet!” he snarled, turning away and reaching mentally for his own body and world.

“Come, and I will tell you much you wish to know,” said Annuur’s voice, fading into silence as he found himself falling, falling into nothingness.

He was still fighting as he returned to consciousness in his tent, with Kaid and Carrie trying to hold him down.

As soon as they saw he was conscious, they let him go and he sat up.

“What happened?” Carrie asked. “You were gone, just not here at all.”

He shivered and rubbed his face with his hands, noticing with part of his mind that he was a Valtegan again. “A nightmare,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Water,” said Kaid, leaning back out of the tent. Moments later, he handed a canteen to Kusac who took it and drank thirstily.

“I had a nightmare,” he whispered when he’d drunk his fill. He handed the bottle back to Kaid.