Between Darkness and Light

by Lisanne Norman

  “Seems like. Doubtless we’ll find out what’s going on at some point,” said Banner.

  Kezule had been up on the hydroponics level and as soon as he heard the call, he headed to the closest wall comm.

  “Kezule here, patch me through to the bridge,” he said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Shartoh here, General. We’ve received a distress call from Ch’almuth. They’re waiting to speak to you now.”

  “On my way,” he said, already running toward the port elevator.

  M’zayash was waiting for him when he took the call in the privacy of his ready room, next to the bridge.

  “General Kezule, you came to us for help, now it’s our turn to ask you for yours,” she said.

  “I must admit to being surprised at receiving your call,” he said. “You gave me the impression you were an agricultural world with very little technology beyond what you’d salvaged and copied after the Fall.”

  “It’s a fool who shows her full hand at the first meeting,” she said. “Especially with the M’zullians out there. We never claimed to have no technology, you assumed that.”

  “What else would I think when we found no planetary communications or transport and you had us giving you technical manuals for some of your machinery?”

  She shrugged. “We had ample warning of your approach.”

  “What’s the nature of your emergency?” he asked abruptly, tiring of the verbal fencing.

  “For the last two decades, every five years the M’zullians come to demand a tithe from us in crops and our young people. We’ve had advance warning that they’re on their way here and will arrive in three days’ time. The goods you saw in our warehouse at the spaceport are for them, not for distribution to our own people. We don’t yet have the means to defend ourselves so we’re asking for your help.”

  He leaned back in his chair, observing her thoughtfully. “Defending your world will draw unwanted M’zullian attention to me, M’zayash. I’m not in a position to wage a war against them. I only have the one cruiser—you saw it when we visited you.”

  “They only send one ship—an armed merchantman—because they know we have no defenses.”

  “An early warning system infers differently,” he said. “Ch’almuth had a defensive capability in my time.”

  She stared at him, then blinked. “You’re not from this time? Then when?”

  “From the Fall itself, but that’s irrelevant. You said they take your young. How young and why?”

  “Females almost into adulthood,” she said. “And a few young males of the same age. You’re no fool, why do you think they take them, General? They still run the harems.”

  “I know,” he said, his mind already turning over several possibilities. “Are you aware you have a space station orbiting your world?”

  “Aware of it, yes, from old data, but we haven’t the means to reach it.”

  “What exactly is your level of technology, M’zayash?”

  “We’ve ground and air transport of a more sophisticated level than the goods container on which you traveled here,” she said, lips twitching in faint amusement. “All backward-engineered from those left after the Fall. We have developed some advanced farming aids, underground irrigation systems, weather control ...”

  He held his hand up. “Enough. How do you get advance warning of the M’zullians arriving?”

  “From the orbiting station. We have a control center on the planet at the spaceport that sends us data, but despite the best minds on our world working on it over many generations, we’ve been unable to make it respond to us in any way.”

  “Do you have warnings of ships, the movements of ships, that don’t come to you?” he asked, a sudden thought hitting him. He knew the M’zullians couldn’t utilize the passageways because they hadn’t a ship capable of using them, which meant they would travel the conventional way, taking three weeks to reach Ch’almuth. Was it possible the receiver at M’zull was still active, and was feeding information on ship movements to this station, and thus to Ch’almuth?

  “Yes, we do,” she confirmed. “But we can tell when they’re sending one to us.”

  If that was the case, why wasn’t there a similar data feed to M’zull through their receiver? Or was there, and they just hadn’t found it yet? Examining the Ch’almuthian’s control center, and checking out their orbital station would be worth the trip alone. Maybe only ships left over from the Fall had the capacity to transmit data to the receiver. He hoped so, or M’zull could be aware of their comings and goings and that thought filled him with disquiet. He’d better get Shartoh and Zhalmo onto it immediately.

  “If I came and we destroyed this merchant ship, they’d know it was missing when it failed to return three weeks later,” he said. “You realize you may only have a respite of six weeks before they send another, more heavily-armed ship, don’t you? One that I’m not capable of defeating.”

  “It may also discourage them,” she said.

  “It won’t. They’re a Warrior culture, bred to fight and kill. This will be something they won’t ignore unless it costs them too much.”

  “If, as you say, the orbiting station had a defensive capability, then can it be fixed?”

  “We’ve no idea what state it’s in and whether it was automated or manned,” he said. “To find that out we’d have to go there and look. It took us quite some time before we had Kij’ik up and running, I don’t yet have the time or personnel to spend on a project of this nature.”

  “We have engineers,” she replied, getting obviously agitated. “Give us the means to reach the station and we’ll do that! The M’zullians can’t be allowed to continue to rob us of our young! You’re the first hope we’ve had to stop them; you have to help us!”

  “The families who came with us, they’re the ones most at risk from the M’zullian tithe, aren’t they?” he said as that puzzle suddenly fell into place.

  She nodded.

  “The M’zullians are at war with the other Valtegan Warrior world, and I believe they plan eventually to reunite the old Empire. I’m not in a position to undertake any hostilities against them—they have a whole world geared up as a war machine—two if they conquer or make an alliance with J’kirtikk. I have one cruiser, that’s all, and some ancient fighters that aren’t yet fit to fly. I came to Kij’ik to avoid this conflict. I’m prepared to help you this time, M’zayash, but I cannot commit my few resources to taking on M’zull to protect you,” he said at last. “I can spare you an ancient cargo pinnace, but that’s all. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just leave things as they are than face the probable reprisals?”

  “We’ll take your help,” she said, a look of relief crossing her face. “And the pinnace. May we call on you for advice if the orbital station has any defenses that we can use?”

  He nodded, thinking fast. This could work to his advantage and weld Ch’almuth even closer to him. “I’ll bring the pinnace and a couple of our engineers to stay on the station and help you, providing it is habitable. There may even be some usable shuttles still berthed there. We didn’t check it out on our visit. Does the merchant ship land at your spaceport?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  “My help won’t come completely free, M’zayash. I want something from you in return.”

  M’zayash narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  “I have memories of the time before we were bred into castes, do you?”

  “Some. Why?”

  “I formed the colony on Kij’ik to bring back to our species what was lost—to blend all the castes back into one. It seems to me you may have achieved this. I want ...” He stopped for a moment, then continued. “I would like to combine my people with yours. You have the remnants of the caste I lack—the Workers. My people can provide Intellectual and Warrior stock combined so the mind rules, not the instinct to fight.”

  M’zayash’s expression relaxed. “General Kezule, why do you think we agreed to let our people go with y
ou?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “I’ll patch you back to the bridge. Give my duty officer the details of how we can communicate with you when we arrive without alerting the M’zullians in case they get there before us,” he said. “I’ll see you in three days. Incidentally, how did you know we could reach you in time?”

  M’zayash smiled. “I’m an extremely good telepath, General,” she said.

  “You’ll be shorthanded till we return,” said Kezule as he went down to the landing bay in the elevator with M’kou. “Can you manage with a mainly civilian Security staff?”

  “We will cope, General,” said M’kou reassuringly. “I’ll keep those of my brothers you left behind on the Officers level so the Sholans are unaware of the situation until I brief them tomorrow. Not that I expect trouble from them,” he added. “They will all be very busy, and with the one Sholan troublemaker still doing punishment duty, the rest will be more content. There’s only a month left till they leave, after all.”

  “True,” said Kezule as the elevator stopped and the door opened. He turned to face his son, taking him into an awkward hug before stepping out onto the landing bay. “Take care, M’kou.”

  “And you, Father,” his son replied quietly.

  The celebration continued with only a few people noticing that some thirty of their colleagues had gone missing.

  Zayshul appeared at their table and took a spare seat next to Banner. “Enjoying yourself, Captain?” she asked over the sound of the music as she watched the knots of people performing the country dances up at the other end of the hall.

  “Yes,” he said, getting up and moving round his Second to sit beside her. He stumbled slightly, realizing he’d been drinking a little more than he realized. “What was that alarm about and why are so many people missing?” he asked, leaning close to her.

  “There’s no secret,” she said, picking up a sandwich from a nearby plate. “We received a distress call from Ch’almuth and Kezule’s gone to help.”

  He tried to ignore her scent. “What’s happening there?”

  Smiling, she shrugged, putting her glass down on the table. “He didn’t say.”

  “How did they send the message?” asked Banner. “I thought they were a low-tech culture?”

  “Again, he didn’t say. He probably left some communications device with them if they didn’t have one,” she said, tapping her foot to the beat of the music. “M’kou will be announcing it tomorrow. Our people have really taken to this dancing, haven’t they? Yours, too.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Are you sure Kezule didn’t say anything?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d like to dance. Will you dance with me?”

  “You’ll be lucky,” Banner said. “There’s been a steady stream of females asking him, and he’s refused every one.”

  She grinned almost playfully at Banner. “I think I can persuade him,” she said, taking hold of Kusac’s hand and getting up. “Come on,” she said, tugging him gently.

  He shook his head, trying to disengage his hand. “No, thanks. I’d rather watch.”

  Moving closer, she rested her hand on his shoulder and lowered her head to whisper in his ear. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you being jealous.” Her breath was warm and smelled of the sweet fruit spirits.

  “Have fun,” he said, sitting back with an effort of will.

  Straightening up, she smiled and shrugged. Then, the full skirt of her dress swirling round her knees, she turned and headed for the dancers.

  “Unusual to see her in a dress,” said Banner as Kusac picked up his glass and took a drink from it.

  “Yes,” he said, watching her approach one of the newcomers and let him lead her over to join the other couples as they formed into groups for the next dance. He turned back to the table, doing his best to ignore her as Lorish came bouncing over.

  “Dance!” she said to Banner, holding both hands out to him.

  He saw the questioning look from his Second and waved his hand vaguely. “Go,” he said.

  The music was beginning to sound too loud to him. What he wanted most was to think. The closer their leaving date came, the more he worried over whether or not it was possible for him to go home, and if he could, what waited for him in the way of legal repercussions.

  Draining his glass, he reached for the jug of ale and refilled it. It dulled his senses and blurred the edges of his world just enough to make it bearable.

  “You should be enjoying yourself, Captain,” said Ghidd’ah, slipping into the seat beside him some time later.

  He glanced up and raised his glass to her. “I’m enjoying the ale,” he said.

  “So I see,” she said, taking the glass from his slack grasp and putting it out of his reach farther down the table. “Is something the matter?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Nothing new,” he said, leaning his cheek on his hand and propping his elbow on the table.

  She got to her feet and reached down to grasp his hands. “You need to work some of that ale out of your system,” she said, pulling him to his feet. Looping her arm over his, she steered him across to the dancers.

  “I can’t,” he said, trying to dig his claws into the thinly carpeted floor. “I don’t have the coordination right now.”

  “Rubbish,” she said brightly, making him stumble as she hauled him forward suddenly. “They’re doing pairs dancing now, not group dances. I’ll hold you up.”

  Before he could object any further, she’d caught him round the waist and had whirled him into the group of dancers.

  For the first few steps, if he wasn’t stumbling, then his tail, held out at more of an angle than usual, kept getting struck by the other dancers, but at last his natural sense of balance took over and he was able to lower it and keep his footing if nothing else. His head cleared a little as the exercise made him breathe faster, and he quickly found he was able to match the simple steps she was using.

  “See?” she laughed, pulling him closer, “I said I’d hold you up!”

  “You smell nice,” he said with surprise, catching a whiff of the perfume she wore. He was also aware of the scents of everyone around him and realized he was checking them on an almost subconscious level, looking for one particular scent—that of the female from four nights ago.

  She came to an abrupt halt as the music stopped, supporting him when he’d have stumbled at the suddenness of it. Moving closer, her arm now encircling his waist, she started to speak very softly.

  “Captain, Zayshul and I are working to find an antidote for your reaction to her scent and sweat. She hasn’t given up, you mustn’t either.”

  “What?” he said disbelievingly. Suddenly the alcohol in his system was annoying him. He needed to sober up.

  “She’s not trying to keep you here, I promise,” said Ghidd’ah as the musicians began the next tune. “I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

  As she moved back, sliding her hand so it rested just above his hip again, he felt a sudden subtle change inside himself as the world around him began to come slightly back into focus. Then he was being whirled round by her again.

  His thoughts were still slow and as she moved sideways, his right hand lost its hold on her. Spinning round, he felt her let go completely, then, just as an attack of dizziness hit him, she had hold of him again. He clutched her more tightly, afraid of really falling this time, but she moved closer, her arms circling his waist until they were almost in an embrace.

  “You won’t fall,” she said reassuringly in Zayshul’s voice. “Just keep dancing.”

  Confused, he tried to focus on her face, but as her scent filled his nostrils, he knew Ghidd’ah had switched partners on him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I wanted to dance with you,” she said as the music slowed slightly. “I’m tired of having to avoid your company when no one else has to. Why shouldn’t we do ordinary things like this?”

  He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This wasn’t like the Zay
shul he knew—or was it? Their recent meetings, though short because of the fear of being discovered, had still been more leisurely, with one or two even lasting several hours. He opened his mind slightly to hers, letting her surface thoughts filter into his mind. Though not completely drunk, he was certainly in no state to properly interpret what he was picking up from her. He needed to sober up fast. What Ghidd’ah had said needed to be discussed, especially as Zayshul had said nothing to him about a possible antidote.

  Again he felt a surge of something through his system and once more, there was a sudden improvement in how he felt—his sight was almost back to normal, and his thinking, though still slow, was that bit sharper. Was he actually affecting the alcohol in his body the way he thought he’d done with the drugs four nights ago?

  The music speeded up and she moved slightly away from him, increasing the speed of her steps. Lifting his head, he looked around and seeing they were level with an exit, he tightened his grip on her waist and whirled her toward it, slowing as they came to the edge of the dancers where several people were standing talking. Coming to a stop, he grasped her hand and drew her swiftly out into the corridor.

  “We need to talk, and I need to sober up,” he said by way of explanation as he led her down the corridor toward the stairs and the main elevator.

  “I was enjoying the dancing,” she exclaimed as he towed her through the first iris.

  “Shh,” he said, beginning to jog now that they were out of sight. He was aware that in leaving the way they had it would likely cause some gossip, but he could get away with it by claiming he hadn’t been exactly sober—neither was she, he was beginning to realize.

  “The pool is good,” she said with a deep chuckle as he headed toward the staircase. “Especially the bubble pool.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, pushing the door to the stairwell open.