“Had to, m’Lord. The officer told me to give you this note.” The worker held out a folded piece of paper.
“You could have given this to my aide,” hissed Geddash, snatching it from him. “There was no need to disturb me!”
“He told me I had to give it only to you,” he repeated before turning to leave.
“Wait! Who gave it to you?”
“I don’t know him any more than I know you, m’Lord. He just paid me to give this to you, said it was urgent.”
Geddash gestured him to leave and opened the note. He didn’t recognize the writing, but what it said did catch his undivided attention. He hesitated, looking behind him into the depths of the club, then back at the note. It said he had to come now, the informant wouldn’t wait for him. Mind made up, he crumpled the note and thrust it into his pocket, then turned to his aide.
“I have to go out for a short while. Someone has information on this Zsadhi person but is only willing to give it to me tonight if I meet him in person at the print shop in Third Street. I want you to follow me at a discreet distance. I don’t expect trouble, but I intend to be prepared for it.”
“Wouldn’t you be better taking more backup than just me, General?” he asked. “If you wait ten minutes, we can get a squad of soldiers to accompany us.”
“Too long, and too visible. No, we’ll go now, Viszok. Keep your distance from me, but be close enough to come running if I call out for you.”
“As you wish, General.”
* * *
Kusac tracked them mentally from their hiding place inside the yard. The print shop was the one he’d dealt with earlier that day, so he knew the layout and had drawn plans for the others before they left the Palace. He’d told Geddash to meet inside the yard for privacy’s sake.
“He’s on his way,” he said quietly to Maalash. “Get ready. Remember, we’ll do the killing. Just act the part of the messenger and be alert to his aide arriving. And don’t stand directly in front of him.”
The young M’zullian nodded, then detached himself from Kusac’s side to move deeper into the shadows that ran the length of the loading bays. Thankfully, it was an overcast night with no moonlight to throw everything into bright relief. The streetlight reflected from the low overhead clouds cast a pale orange light in the center of the yard.
Cheelar’s soft breathing beside him was the only sound he could hear as his ears strained for the footsteps that he knew were growing closer. He was adjusting his grip on the knife for the umpteenth time when he heard the yard doors finally beginning to open.
He stiffened, readying his stance as the General, leaving the doors open, began to advance cautiously into the yard.
“Where are you? Show yourself!” Geddash called out, stopping some ten feet inside the yard and looking around.
Maalash stepped into the light. “Thank you for coming, General.”
Geddash squinted at him. “Come closer, I want to see your face, get your scent. Your note said you had news to give me about the Zsadhi, news that Nayash wouldn’t listen to.”
Maalash began to walk slowly toward the older man.
“You’re one of Nayash’s people,” said Geddash, eyes narrowing as the other drew closer.
“Yes, General. I recently entered his service.”
“Well, what’s this revelation you have? Let’s be done with it!”
Maalash stopped about five feet from the General, keeping his hands in full view to show he was no threat. “The Zsadhi has to be one of our class, an officer.”
“We know this,” said Geddash. “This is nothing new!”
“I believe the Zsadhi is one of Nayash’s people,” he said quietly, taking another step closer to him.
“One of Nayash’s people? What makes you think that?”
“When the attacks seem to happen, there is always one of his aides missing. In fact, that one has been missing for a week now and no one will tell me where he is.”
“Do you suspect Nayash is involved in it?” he asked, losing his caution and moving closer to Maalash.
“I think it suspicious that he isn’t concerned about where his missing aide went . . .”
Kusac raised his arm and taking careful aim, threw his knife. Cheelar’s followed a hairsbreadth behind.
Through the air the knives tumbled, Kusac’s striking Geddash in the chest as Cheelar’s zipped past Maalash’s ear and hit the General square in the forehead.
Without a sound, Geddash began to crumple, but Maalash leaped forward and grabbed him, hoisting him upward until it looked to an impartial observer like the two were in close conversation.
“Can you see his aide?” hissed Kusac running in the shadow’s cover until he was close enough for Maalash to hear him.
Maalash looked quickly around. “No.”
“Walk him over this way,” said Kusac. “Let’s get him into the shadows and get those knives out.”
Struggling, Maalash put an arm around the General’s waist and began to stagger over to Kusac and the shadows.
“Taking too long,” muttered Cheelar, darting out of the shadows to Maalash’s side to help him drag the General to cover.
In the safety of the loading bay, they let the General’s body fall to the ground. Cheelar bent over him and pulled the knives free, being careful not to get any blood on himself.
“Check his pockets,” said Kusac, pulling on gloves before reaching into his own pocket for the can of spray paint. “Get our note back if he still has it.” He mentally scanned the area, finding the aide waiting patiently round the corner of the street, near the front door of the print firm.
“Got it,” said Maalash, still rifling through the General’s uniform pockets.
“Back off. Time to spray the sword on his body,” ordered Kusac. “His aide is still waiting round the corner.”
The other two backed away, keeping watch on the yard doors as Kusac began to spray the Zsadhi sword over the dead General’s uniform. That done, he placed the can beside him. “Time to leave,” he said. “We’ll have to exit by the front door and take down the aide. I want him alive to find the body and call an alarm. Cheelar, can you do it? I’ll link to the aide, so we’ll know if you need help.”
The young commando nodded. “No problem. Give me five.” He turned and loped off into the darkness.
* * *
Viszok walked up to the corner of the street and carefully looked round it to see if the General had come out of the yard, but the street was empty. He turned and walked back to the doorway, stepping into the shadows there. He leaned against the doorjamb, folding his arms and wishing he were back at the club instead of waiting in this drafty street for the General.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with a massive headache. He groaned, putting his hand to the back of his head where he found a large and very tender lump. He struggled to sit up, moaning in pain, then the enormity of his situation hit him. If he’d been knocked out, what had happened to the General?
Lurching to his feet, he found he was still by the front door of the print works. Holding onto the wall, he made his way carefully round the corner to the double wooden doors of the yard. In the center, he could see a dark shape that with a cold feeling he suddenly knew was the General.
Fighting back the nausea, he staggered across the yard to what became increasingly obvious was the body of General Geddash. He slumped down beside it, feeling at the neck for a pulse, but the body was already cool to the touch. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his comm unit and called General M’zoesh’s number. The head of Intelligence would know what to do.
“It’s General Geddash,” he blurted out when an aide answered the phone. “He’s been murdered by the Zsadhi! He has that sword painted on his chest!”
* * *
Back in the Palace apartment, Kusac and his group tried to rel
ax.
“That aide must have wakened by now,” said Maalash, pacing up and down by Kusac’s desk.
Cheelar reached out to grasp him by the arm. “Sit down,” he said quietly. “We can’t afford to have the staff here see us restless with no reason.”
“Right,” said Maalash, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll sit and wait like you.”
“No need for that. Whatever else, we need to behave normally. I think we can afford to go out this evening to the club. We haven’t been there for a few days,” said Kusac.
“That’s walking into the norrta’s den,” said Maalash, taken aback.
“Exactly. No one would expect us to do that if we were involved. Let’s go. Remember to drink sparingly. We have a mission to do tonight.”
“Still going ahead with that?” asked Cheelar as they began to gather their belongings.
“Yes,” said Kusac, putting his uniform hat on. “That assassination attempt on me and the Emperor could still go ahead unless we have everyone here rushing about on high alert. The way to do that is to complete the mission as planned. Hitting their temple here and defacing it the same night their leading General is murdered will certainly do that. I can’t guarantee either alone would be enough.”
“Enough talk. We know what has to be done,” said Cheelar. “If Maalash feels he cannot do this, I suggest he remain here and guard the house for you.”
Kusac stopped, hand on the doorknob, and turned to look at Maalash. “Do you wish to stay, Maalash?” he asked quietly. “You’re not trained as we’ve been. There is no dishonor to remaining behind this time.”
Maalash stood taller and narrowed his eyes. “I’m with you, Zsadhi,” he said firmly. “As you say, I don’t have your training, so forgive me my doubts.”
“Good man,” said Kusac, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine as always. Just don’t call me Zsadhi!”
The young soldier’s face flushed a darker green. “Sorry, m’Lord Nayash,” he muttered.
* * *
The club was like an ant’s nest that had been kicked, with aides and staff running every which way. With an obviously puzzled look on his face, Kusac, flanked by his two aides, made his way to the bar area.
He saw Telmaar standing at the bar in deep conversation with General Shayazu, head of all the Palace soldiers.
“Get me a drink, Cheelar,” he murmured, taking off his hat and tucking it under one arm. “I’m going to talk to Telmaar. Get yourselves a beer, too.”
As Cheelar headed to the bar to get the drinks, Kusac caught Telmaar’s eye and made his way over to him.
“Nayash, good to see you. Have you heard the news? Geddash has been assassinated by this Zsadhi fellow.”
“That’s dreadful. How did it happen?”
“His aide says he was lured to a print shop with the promise of information about the Zsadhi, then murdered. The Emperor is shocked at the news and has demanded that the area around the print shop be searched door-to-door,” said Shayazu.
“This is taking it too far,” said Kusac. “It’s one thing to attack our breweries and whorehouses, but to actually attack and kill one of our top Generals . . .”
“This hits us hard and personally,” agreed Telmaar. “No one is safe if they can reach someone like Geddash.”
“He was a fool to let himself be lured out of the club to a lonely rendezvous,” said Shayazu gruffly. “What?” he said, seeing Kusac’s look. “I’m only saying what we all think! We must all be on our guard from now on. I’ve sent our soldiers in squads of eight men to a street to search the houses. Meanwhile, I’ve doubled the guards in the Palace and made sure that Lieutenant Zerdish has increased the Emperor’s personal bodyguards.”
“Sounds like you have everything in hand,” said Kusac, nodding.
“As much as I can,” he said. “I’ve Lord Telmaar’s troops under me, and if you don’t mind, I could do with yours as well to help with the door-to-door searches.”
“Of course, take what men you need,” said Kusac.
“Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I’ve work to do.” He bowed to them both and hurried off.
“Bad business this,” said Telmaar as Cheelar came up with Kusac’s beer and handed it to him.
“It is, indeed. Can I get you a drink, Telmaar? You look like you need a refill.”
“Thanks, the same as you, just another beer. Need to keep our wits about us tonight, I think.”
Prime world, same day
For the afternoon nap, M’Nar had arranged for a tarpaulin to be laid on the ground by the troop’s campsite, and an awning to be erected over it. Before the second meal, he had the cubs each fetch their own bedrolls and place them there. He, Jerenn, and N’Akoe did likewise.
“A nap is always good,” he said to Jerenn as they shepherded the now full and drowsy kitlings there.
“You’re just giving into your hedonistic side,” said N’Akoe as she settled the two young females.
“Too right,” he said, mouth dropping open in a grin. “If you can’t be good to yourself, you can’t be good to others.”
“You know, there’s a weird kind of logic in what you say,” said Jerenn as he made sure all the cubs were settled.
N’Akoe was unsuccessfully trying to get Gaylla to go back to her sister instead of joining Shaidan in the boys’ huddle of bodies.
“Don’t bother trying to separate them,” said Jerenn. “She and Shaidan have an especially close sibling bond.”
“But the djanas should sleep separately,” she said, finally giving up on Gaylla.
“Not nowadays. We always allow siblings to mix freely,” said M’Nar. “Look, Vazih has joined her brothers while you were seeing to Gaylla.”
Sure enough, the cubs were all lying curled around each other in a large homogenous pile.
“But it isn’t fitting,” she objected, standing up. “In my t . . . town,” she hastily recovered, “. . . we kept the males and females separated.”
As inconspicuously as possible, M’Nar exchanged a glance with his sword-brother. “I think you’ll find our way is better when it comes to the young djanas in their first season. Having known their brothers well, they’re able to make better choices.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said with a sigh before heading toward the transporter. “Back shortly, I need to pick something up.”
“She’s a Sleeper,” M’Nar said very quietly to Jerenn as they straightened out their bedrolls. “I’d swear to it.”
“I think you’re right,” Jerenn whispered back. “It explains a lot about her attitudes to many things.”
“I wonder if she trusts herself and us enough to tell us about it,” said M’Nar thoughtfully as he sat down on his bedroll and gave the cubs a last look over. As he did, he noticed Jerenn staring at Gaylla as she snuggled into her blanket with her doll tightly clutched in one arm.
“Something bothering you about Gaylla?” he asked quietly.
Jerenn turned his attention back to his sword-brother. “Just something that she said last night as I put her to bed.”
“That you’d make a good papa? I know she’s right,” M’Nar grinned. “Once I’ve knocked a bit more of your stuffiness out of you, you’ll make a great papa.”
A small smile touched Jerenn’s lips. “No, I was thinking more about the other thing she said. That I was a “little broke” inside.”
M’Nar scrambled across the bedding to Jerenn, then settled down behind him. “Gaylla’s a full telepath, and a powerful empath,” he said, reaching up to massage Jerenn’s neck and shoulders. “Gods, but you are tight there!” he exclaimed, beginning to knead the taut muscles. “I think she’s aware of your past as a Terminator Brother, and is picking up on the cost of your last mission, before you became gene-altered like me. I can still sense the pain it caused you, so
it’s no surprise Gaylla is picking up on it as well.”
“I thought I had gotten over that,” he murmured, beginning to relax under his friend’s hands. “I’m grateful to you for all the help you’ve given me over that incident.”
“Obviously, it hurt you very deeply at the time, and it will take time to heal completely.”
“How much more?” sighed Jerenn. “It seems to be taking forever. I still get the odd nightmare about her and how she manipulated my mind.”
“I’m not a psychologist,” said M’Nar, “but I can tell you that relaxing with the cubs and accepting the trust and love that they give you, especially young Gaylla, will go a long way to counteracting what you went through.”
Jerenn gave a low chuckle. “Gods, listen to us, a former Terminator Brother and an undercover Consortia-trained one, both with their own share of missions that they’d rather forget, now helping form the minds and behavior of six very special cubs! Who would ever have thought this was a good choice for them or us?”
“It’s the best one because we know how to avoid many of the mistakes we and the young people we’ve been sent to observe have made. Plus, we’re both instructors, and I have cubs of my own,” said M’Nar. “Who better than us to teach them to value each other and their family and friends, and to protect themselves from anyone wishing them harm?”
“Now you come to mention it, I see Vartra’s hand in this,” said Jerenn, finally relaxing into the massage. “At least this time we can actually see the benefits of what we’re doing.”
CHAPTER 8
M’NAR hadn’t intended to fall asleep. Like the cubs, however, a full stomach in the hot sun soon had him almost cracking his jaw with yawns.
It was their quiet chattering that brought him back to wakefulness. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Good afternoon, Brother M’Nar,” said Shaidan as Gaylla, grabbing her dolly by one leg, bounded over to see Jerenn.
“You’s awake!” she said happily, bouncing onto his lap. “I helps with you this afternoon.”
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