Shades of Gray (7 page)

Kezule switched off the holo image and, pushing his chair back, stood up. “We’re going with this idea. It’s time for the evening meal. Take a break, discuss it among yourselves, and be back here in two hours to thrash out the finer details.”

As everyone began to get to their feet, Kezule held Kusac back. “Stay,” he said. “We need to talk privately. M’kou, have meals brought here for the two of us.”

“Yes, General.”

 

“Take the damned analgesic,” said Kezule when they were alone. “I’d be as bad as you in the same circumstances, but that doesn’t make you right.”

Kusac gave a low rumble of annoyance, but he followed Kezule’s advice, pushing his tunic aside and pressing the hypo against his thigh more vigorously than he intended.

“You’re avoiding your family.”

“I’m trying to get this job done as quickly as possible,” he said, wincing. He concentrated on stowing away the empty hypo. Already he could feel the drug coursing through his system, dulling the pain from the still-healing blaster wound in his upper thigh, and the cut in his side where Dzaou’s knife had stabbed him clear up to the hilt yet somehow left virtually no wound.

“The young Emperor is our only hope, Kusac,” said Kezule, changing the topic abruptly. “I won’t have him put needlessly at risk.”

“Then we’ve little chance on our own of retaking the Palace. You might as well destroy it and start again.” He heard the bite in his tone and, ears tilting slightly, opened his mouth to apologize.

“Forget it,” said Kezule, with a gesture of dismissal. “Has the analgesic cut in yet? Fighting Dzaou like that in your condition was foolish.”

“I know it was, but I had no choice,” he said, frowning as a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he realized he was having to force his eyes to focus on the General.

“Destroying the Palace isn’t an option; neither is losing Zsurtul. I have no intention of ruling. I’ll stay and help him if he wants me to, but that’s all.”

“You’ll leave Kij’ik and all you fought so hard to build?” Kusac asked, realizing, as a false sense of warmth and well-being began to steal through him that Zayshul had laced the drug with a sedative. He sat up, trying to fight off the effects.

“Of course not!” said Kezule, offended. “I intended to convince Zsurtul to continue my plan, but on K’oish’ik. We have more than enough land to accommodate as many Ch’almuthians as want to leave their world to escape the M’zullian raids. As for Kij’ik, I’ll have it towed into the Prime system and manned as a defensive outpost.”

Kezule stopped, and leaned closer to him. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Your wife put a sedative in the hypo as well as an analgesic,” he said, blinking owlishly as he grasped the arm of his chair.

Kezule swore and reached for a drinking bowl and the jug of water nearby. “I can’t have you falling asleep on me,” he said, pouring Kusac a drink. “We need to refine that plan of yours!” He held the bowl out, helping him to hold it steady. “This is important, Kusac. What did you do when you went into that healing trance? I don’t mean your own mental disciplines, did you do anything else?”

“Like what?” he asked, taking a couple of mouthfuls and then pushing the bowl aside. “That won’t help, the drug’s in my blood, not my gut!”

“You used biofeedback, didn’t you? You obviously know about our Warrior glands because of the drug your people developed. Have you got the same kind of glands?”

“We’re not Valtegans,” he muttered, slumping back in his seat. He knew he needed to rest, but dammit, not now!

Kezule spun his chair round and, taking him by the shoulders, shook him several times.

“Concentrate, Kusac! You’ve been changed, made partly Valtegan, how I don’t know, maybe by that damned scent marker! Have
you
got those glands? If you have, I can tell you how to use them.”

“Yes,” he said, forcing his eyes open when his head finally stopped moving. “Yes, I have them ...”

“Then reach inside for them, tell yourself you need to be alert, trigger the gland that produces adrenaline, and ...”

“All right,” he mumbled, reaching mentally inside himself. “I know what to do. It took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“You can’t afford to be taken by surprise,” said Kezule grimly. “You have to remember, and practice, until it becomes second nature—just as using your mental powers is.”

A surge of energy flowed through his limbs, chasing the lethargy before it, then it hit his brain. He shuddered, grasping the arms of the chair tightly as his senses reeled. When it stopped, he found all traces of the sedative were gone. Startled, he stared at Kezule.

“That was fast even by my standards,” said Kezule dryly. “One of us should have a word with Zayshul about this incident, both about her using the sedative and about how you overcame it.”

“She’s your ...”

“Don’t—go there,” said Kezule coldly, sitting back in his chair. “For now, we’re all in a situation we didn’t choose—we’ll make the best of it. I would have thought you’d have sensed what she was planning.”

“She hid it. I was distracted by the pain, and I shouldn’t have been,” Kusac said, equally coldly, more annoyed with himself than her. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Are you sure you’re fit enough to handle a mission like this?” asked Kezule, his voice returning to normal. “It’s no disgrace if you aren’t, considering your injuries.”

“They’re healing,” he said shortly. They were, and still far faster than was normal.

“I’m aware of that.”

“I have three days. By then, I’ll be more than fit to handle it. As I said, our battle suits are powered.”

“What specs?”

He turned his mind inward, looking where his and Kaid’s shared memories were stored. A moment later he had the information. “They make use of servomotors and gravity dampers to assist movement, giving us the ability to hit a top speed of thirty miles an hour for short bursts and the ability to jump two to three times higher than normal. Weapons are an energy rifle and pistol and an OC—oscillating—sword. There’s a refractive paint on the suits that renders them all but invisible in low light.”

“Sword?” Kezule looked faintly incredulous.

Kusac grinned widely, showing off the white canines against the black of his pelt. “Useful for close quarters or when the energy packs run out. The MUTAC is similarly equipped on its jointed tail.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he murmured. “And they’ll stand immersion in flooded tunnels?”

Kusac nodded as he got to his feet. “They come with their own air supply. One that lasts three hours. I should join the others for third meal now. Jayza will have brought Shaidan up to the mess.”

“I ordered meals to be brought here for us. You can call Jayza and get him to bring your son here, if you like.”

Kusac hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ve been separated from my crew for too long. They need to spend time with me. Plus I have to call the Rryuk ship now. And, Kezule, I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell Kaid about this mission until after I’ve left to meet up with them.”

Kezule nodded, giving Kusac a curious glance, but he said nothing.

When he’d left, Kezule called his son and canceled the meal arrangements.

“I’ll eat with you, if you like,” M’kou offered. “I’d like a word in private with you.”

“Very well,” he said.

 

M’kou put his tray down on the table and set his father’s plate in front of him.

“Thank you,” said Kezule, picking up his fork. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

M’kou sat down in his chair and gripped the arms to move himself closer to the table. “What the ...” he began, lifting his left hand to look at the chair arm.

Kezule glanced over and froze, fork halfway to his mouth.

“How did that happen?” his son asked, tentatively putting his finger into one of the depressions. “They’re his fingerprints. It looks as if they’re melted into the arm.”

“I can see that,” said Kezule acerbically, putting his fork back on his plate and leaning closer. “Move your hand out of the way.”

M’kou did as he was asked and turned to examine the other chair arm, but it was unmarked. “How did that happen?”

“I have no idea,” said Kezule, probing the marks with his claw tip. “There’s been nothing hot enough to cause that in here.” The marks were deep, each one with the imprint of a claw tip just above it, as if caused by a hand gripping the arm tightly when the surface had been hot and plastic.

“Only Kusac and I have used this chair,” said M’kou, “and those don’t fit any Prime hand.”

“They’re Kusac’s, no doubt of that,” said Kezule with a sigh, sitting up. “More damned anomalies. You’ve read up on their psi abilities—have they any that could have caused this?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said M’kou, cautiously taking hold of the arm again and pulling his chair closer to the table. “But they haven’t been very forthcoming on their psi capabilities with us. And Kusac is different anyway, because he lost his original abilities. Banner told me they only returned after a surgical procedure was performed on him to restore them. Actually, it was about the Captain I wanted to talk.”

“What’s concerning you now?” Kezule asked, beginning to eat.

“Is he fit to lead a team through the tunnels?”

“Not yet, but I believe he will be in three days’ time.”

“I’d better accompany him to make sure.”

Kezule glared at his son. “You’ll stay here and look after Kij’ik and the children,” he said forcefully. “Your Warrior glands have been destroyed, you no longer have the ability to use biofeedback. I’ll not have you putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m not staying here,” said M’kou stubbornly.

“It’s an order,” interrupted Kezule. “It’s not open to discussion. And have that chair stowed in my office after you’ve finished eating.”

BY the time Kusac had called the Rryuk Clan’s ship and made his way up to the Officers’ level, he realized the stupidity of trying to make it to the mess and instead limped painfully along the corridor to their communal lounge. With relief, he lowered himself into one of the padded dining chairs and, activating his wrist comm unit, called Banner.

“Can you get Jayza to collect a meal for me and bring it and Shaidan down to our lounge, please? I’m not going to make it to the mess—I’ve overdone things a bit,” he said, ears flicking in an attempt at wry humor.

“That’s one of the few sensible things you’ve said today,” Banner replied shortly. “I’ll see to it now.”

He sighed, easing his leg out in front of him. Banner’s anger and indignation that he’d not discussed his ideas for the covert mission with him first were preceding him, and he knew his Second was already on his way to have it out with him. Sighing again, he braced himself for the verbal onslaught.

 

“. . . and you know if you’d told us you were Shaidan’s father, we’d have stood with you!” Banner was saying. “If something’s so damned sensitive that you don’t want me knowing it, Kusac, then, dammit, I’ll give you permission to wipe it from my memory once we’ve discussed it, but at least
ask
me!”

Shocked at his Second’s offer, he looked up at Banner.

“I mean it,” said Banner, leaning across the table. “I’d rather you messed with my mind after we’d spoken than you acted alone again.”

“There’s a difference between cooperating and expecting me to discuss my every thought first,” he said, irritated. “It was only a planning meeting.”

Banner thumped his palm on the table in exasperation. “I
don’t
expect that, but I do expect us to discuss plans before you start allocating personnel!”

“Would you, as Kaid’s Second, expect him to discuss everything with you?” he asked with deceptive mildness.

“No, but ...”

“Then don’t expect me to. When we return after our meal, you’re as free as anyone around that discussion table to make your objections.”

“You’ve already said you’re taking Khadui. It should be
me
watching your back, not him. And why are you so set on leaving before Kaid gets here? You’re avoiding him, Kusac.”

Jealousy—or protectiveness, he wondered. “I need you working with Kezule,” he said. “Kaid doesn’t know him as well as you, and the Touibans don’t know him at all.”

Banner made a sound of disgust. “Knowing him, I don’t trust him an inch.”

“Can I trust you? Who’s your loyalty to? Me, or Kaid?” he asked sharply. “What did you tell him during your debriefing?”

His Second had the grace to look away. “I have never been disloyal to you, Kusac. I told him everything,” he said. “Everything I knew. I also told him that though I’ll keep watching your back, I can’t have divided loyalties between you and him any longer.”

“So the pressure’s off me, is it? If you’re with Kaid, you’ll see Jurrel sooner.”

“Your safety is more important,” he began, then stopped. “Do you know Jurrel is with them?”

“Yes, he’s there. I can sense them all.”

Banner stared at him. “At that distance?” he asked slowly. “But being there to guard you is more important.”

Kusac nodded. “Then would it suffice if I took you with me until we’ve taken the Orbital and the
Kz’adul
? It isn’t sensible for me to risk my Second in the tunnels, Banner. Kaid and the Touibans need an officer with them who’s had experience with the Primes and Kezule. You’ll probably be needed to persuade Kezule to oversee the whole operation from the Orbital or the
N’zishok
rather than go down with his troops. He and Zsurtul are indispensable.”

Banner sighed, ears flicking in irritation just as the door opened to admit Jayza with Kusac’s meal on a tray and Shaidan. “Very well, I’ll accept that compromise.”