Shades of Gray (42 page)

Shocked exclamations and the buzz of conversation greeted his announcement, and as Zsurtul waited for the noise to abate, Kusac saw a sheen of sweat begin to gather on his face. He glanced at Zayshul as she began to move toward the youth and shook his head in a negative gesture.

“General Kezule I appoint head of what military forces we have. Have the prisoners brought now. I’ll pass judgment on them myself. We’ll all rest easier knowing they’ve been sentenced.”

Kezule leaned forward as the young King” s voice began to falter. “Majesty, there is no need to . . .”

“I will see to it myself,” said Zsurtul, more firmly.

Kezule inclined his head then signaled to M’kou. “As you wish, Majesty, but this is no time for clemency.”

Zsurtul’s hands clenched the arms of the throne till his knuckles showed white. “They’ll get none from me.”

“Execute all the altered ones with tattoos except the leader. We need him for questioning,” said Kusac abruptly.

“We don’t know who the leader is, despite our initial questioning,” said Kezule, glancing up at him.

“I know who he is,” said Kusac, scanning the faces of the assembled nobility and soldiers. He was picking up small areas of fear accompanied by anger. “As for the implanted guards, let them be kept under house arrest until the TeLaxaudin have deactivated them. If they could remove my unit, they can disable theirs. The Palace guard had no choice but to follow their implants’ programming.”

“And if they can’t?” asked Kezule.

“Then we will offer them a painless and honorable death,” said Zsurtul. “There will be no more implants.”

“There are M’zullian agents here,” said Kusac. “Counselors of K’hedduk’s. I can smell and feel the fear of those around them.”

“Your nose is better than mine,” said Kezule. “I thought the M’zullians were darker than the Primes.”

“Not all,” said Kusac, flicking his ear briefly in Carrie and Kaid’s direction when he saw them at the back of the Throne Room. “K’hedduk wasn’t dark skinned—or he has a means to appear lighter.”

Their conversation stopped as they sensed, by smell as well as the reaction of the crowd, the arrival of the prisoners. The people parted, opening a wide path for them to approach the foot of the throne. Kezule immediately stepped in front of the King.

All Kusac’s senses were now focused on finding those who were loyal to K’hedduk among the Royal Court.

First came the four altered Primes who had survived the battle. Each was manacled and held by two of Kezule’s armored commandos. Kusac tuned out M’kou’s voice as he listed their crimes, keeping his eyes flicking over the gathering until he heard Kezule demand the name of the leader, then his attention returned to them.

“Do you think we’ll cooperate with you inferior cattle?” demanded one, struggling with his guards. “K’hedduk will return, and when he does . . .”

Kusac pushed past the General, drawing his pistol as he did. Without breaking his stride, the single pulse of energy from his gun hit the thug between the eyes, dropping him like a stone, leaving his guards struggling to support his dead weight.

At the last one, Kusac stopped. “Zoshur,” he said, grasping him by the arm and pulling him free of the guards. “Here’s their leader,” he said, hauling him forward then flinging him down on his belly before the throne steps. “You don’t need the others.”

“Execute them,” said Zsurtul, tiredly. “Have this one returned to the cells to await questioning.”

“K’hedduk’s counselors are next,” said Kezule quietly as Zoshur was hauled off and the remaining two were dragged out to the balcony to be publicly executed.

“Bring Prime Counselor Shyadd to me first.”

“He’s being treated for injuries right now, Majesty,” began Zayshul as a small commotion at the rear of the hall drew all their attention.

“Shyadd,” said Kusac, without even glancing in that direction as he continued to keep his senses and eyes roaming over the gathered crowd.

Kezule signaled to the guards at the rear of the hall to let the Council member approach.

“Majesty.” Shyadd bowed his head in respect when he reached the foot of the throne. “Your counselors were forced to work under K’hedduk. Please don’t judge them too harshly. They did what they could to protect your people—except for one or two who were more . . . enthusiastic in helping K’hedduk.”

Sparing a glance at him, Kusac took in the bandaged hands and the signs of bruises and cuts on the Prime’s face.

“They could have refused, as you did,” he said.

“Not as easy to do as say,” Shyadd murmured. “We Primes are not known for our bravery.”

“Time some of you were,” Kusac said, going back to scanning the assembly as the counselors were brought before their King. He could sense something in a small group toward the back of the hall, near the exit to the balcony, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint those concerned.

Ignoring the excuses and pleas from the counselors as they were called forward, he concentrated instead on them. Jumping down into the crowd, he pushed his way through as he strode toward them. As he did, one began to back away, then suddenly turned and fled toward the large broken window behind him. As the Prime leaped into the air, Kusac’s shot caught him full in the back, propelling him out and down to the courtyard below.

“Garras, see he’s dead,” he subvocalized into this throat mic, increasing his pace till he reached the others.

They tried to scatter, but those around them prevented it.

“He’s Fabukki,” said one, pointing at one of the small group. “He was Head of Security in the Palace!”

“They’re lying,” said the Prime, a look of outraged innocence on his face as he stood his ground. “Using your presence to settle old jealousies.”

Kusac grasped him by the arm and thrust him toward the two Touiban guards who had rushed to his side.

“We need him alive. He’s a M’zullian,” he said, surveying the three who had been with him. Mentally, he reached for them, forcing through their shielding to scan them, leaving them holding aching heads.

“Collaborators,” he said, losing interest in them to check the rest of the assembly. “They sold out their own to K’hedduk.”

“Take them into custody,” ordered Zsurtul from his throne. “They will be judged later. Bring Fabukki here.”

“Dead,” Garras confirmed through his headset.

Kusac paced through the crowd, his senses intent now on finding the other two M’zullians. He was aware of Carrie and Kaid at the edges of his mind, demanding an explanation, but he shut them out, needing all his concentration for the job at hand. The Primes around him moved aside, giving him a wide berth, some even flinching if they thought his gaze fell on them. He stopped; the fear-scent was getting thick now, masking those he wanted. A slight movement from the extreme left caught his attention, and his head swiveled around to track it. He had them now!

He pounced, grasping each by an arm and dragging them up to the dais to give to Kezule’s guards. “Two more M’zullians,” he said, stepping back to the General’s side. “Members of K’hedduk’s crew. The one I shot was also one. We have them all now. They’ve got mind-blocks—I can’t read them yet.”

“Good work,” murmured Kezule. “Majesty, keep them alive for questioning.”

Zsurtul nodded and waited for Kezule to issue the orders before turning to his late father’s counselors.

Meanwhile, he sensed Kaid’s acceptance of what he’d been doing and withdrawal from the edges of his mind.

“Your rank is forfeit,” Zsurtul said. “Your sentence is to serve our people in the restoration of our world. You will be part of the workforce to repair the city and give aid to our people all over K’oish’ik. Till then, you will live in the barracks under the watchful eye of our loyal military. Take them away.”

Slowly Zsurtul turned his head to regard Shyadd. “Counselor Shyadd, you retain the rank my father gave you as Prime Counselor. You have until midday tomorrow to choose those who will serve under you as heads of the various departments. Present your list to me at that time in the Council chamber. Meanwhile, retake possession of your office and anything else you need.”

Thanking him, Shyadd bowed as low as he could and slowly backed away.

“What’s next?” asked the young King, leaning briefly against the back of his throne.

This time, Kusac sent to Zayshul, asking her to give him a mild stimulant and some liquid nourishment.

Reaction had begun to set in, along with pain from his leg. While she was busy with Zsurtul, he surreptitiously triggered a stimulant and analgesic from his suit’s automed. As they hit his system, a wave of light-headedness coursed through him, and he leaned back against the side of the Throne.

“Six of the twenty M’zullian/Primes who were on Shola survived, Majesty,” said Kezule, glancing at Kusac and frowning. “In fact, they surrendered to the Sholans at the first opportunity, but I intend to have them executed.”

“Wait,” said Kusac, pulling his scattered thoughts together with an effort. “They surrendered?”

“It surprised me, too. They asked to be spared and wished to speak to Kaid.”

“Take them to the barracks cells and let Kaid speak to them,” he said, looking up and sending to his sword-brother to join them. “He knows them better than any of us.”

“Do as he asks,” said Zsurtul tiredly; sipping at the drink the Doctor had given him.

Kaid, accompanied by Carrie, stopped at the foot of the throne and saluted the young King. Kusac could see he was favoring his injured right arm even though he was back in his armor.

“Majesty,” Kaid said.

“You will speak with the six surviving M’zullians you trained on Shola and assess their loyalty to us and their ability to follow their appointed officers. They surrendered to your people and asked for you.”

“I was told of their surrender, Majesty, but haven’t yet had the opportunity to speak to them.”

“They can await your leisure now, Captain,” said Kezule, gesturing to Kaid and Carrie to move to one side. “The Inquisitors are next.” He indicated the bound red-robed Primes at the back of the hall.

Zsurtul’s expression changed to one of barely suppressed fury. “Execute them all. I will not have them in my presence a moment longer. There will never again be Inquisitors.”

“Keep the leader,” said Kusac. “I want to talk to him, find out what he knows about K’hedduk and his crew.”

“Do it,” said Zsurtul. “Have him under constant guard. Are we done with the prisoners?”

He looked exhausted despite the stimulant.

“Yes, Majesty,” said Kezule.

“I want all trace of the harems destroyed,” he said, rousing himself. “If they haven’t been yet, all the ladies in them must be treated and returned to their families. I need a list of their names so restitution can be made from the property belonging to the disgraced Counselors.”

“It will be done,” assured Kezule.

“General,” Zsurtul said, raising his voice. “Your first task after securing our world and organizing what aid you can for the Ch’almuthians is to rescue your daughter Zhalmo Shan Q’emgo’h, my future Queen, from K’hedduk.”

Kusac watched as Kezule’s crest lifted and his nostrils flared. His softly spoken “Majesty . . .” was lost in the renewed buzz of conversation from the assembled courtiers.

“You will rescue her, General,” said Zsurtul, and though his voice was low, his tone brooked no argument. “And she will be my Queen.”

“It can be done,” Kusac heard himself say. “There is a way, with the help of the Ch’almuthians.”

Kusac could feel Kezule’s and Zsurtul’s eyes boring into him and, at the edges of his shielding, consternation from Carrie and Kaid.

“Then see to it, Captain Aldatan. You rank second only to General Kezule as my military adviser,” said Zsurtul, the drink slipping from his hand as he fainted.

“Stop the broadcast, ZSAHDI,” Kezule ordered. “M’kou, empty the hall. This audience is over.”

“Affirmative, Lord General,” said the AI, causing Kaid and Carrie to look up and around in surprise.

“I’m taking him to the hospital now, Kezule,” said Zayshul, gesturing for the floater to be brought up.

“No, take him to my suite, Zayshul,” he said. “And before you start arguing, it is opposite the hospital. I can ensure his safety there, I can’t in the hospital.”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

M’kou, having issued the necessary orders, turned to him. “Captain, you look like you’re going to pass out too.”

“I’m fine,” he said, grasping the arm of the Throne as he felt himself about to stagger.

“Kusac, a mission to M’zull would be suicide,” said Kaid, coming swiftly to his side. “You haven’t recovered from your own injuries yet.”

“We never leave one of our own, do we, Kaid? Zhalmo is one of my people now.”

“You’re not fit,” insisted Kaid.

“I will be by the time three weeks in jump space are over.”

“Going to M’zull is a suicide mission, you know that,” said Carrie. “You can’t do that to us, Kusac, not after . . .”

He turned his head to look at her. “I’ll go. She’s one of my people, Carrie. No one, least of all her, deserves what K’hedduk will do to her.”

“You have a plan?” asked Kezule, joining them. “What happened, how did he manage to take her?”

The pain on his face was clear for them all to see.

“As I understand it, Zhalmo was just behind Zsurtul and was unable to stop him from opening fire on K’hedduk. He was trying to save his mother,” said Kusac, turning to the General. “Zhalmo hadn’t gotten a clear line of sight when K’hedduk shot Zsurtul. She ran to help him, while K’hedduk, recognizing her, used the Empress to capture her. He then killed the Empress and took off just as we got there.”

“Your plan?”

“I’m working on it,” he said. “It involves the Ch’almuthians.”

Understanding dawned on Kezule’s face. “If we can bring this off . . .”