strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  “How long have you been here?” he asked Kaid as Carrie urged him to lean back.

  “I came up after the talks broke for the night.” Kaid nodded toward the chair not far from the bed. “I slept there. We’re a Triad, Kusac. Where else would I be but here with you and Carrie?”

  Even as feelings blocked off for too long by the Primes’ implant began to well up inside him, he felt the warning tingling at the base of his skull. Instinctively, he retreated behind the mental barriers that had given him some little protection from the tortures J’koshuk had inflicted on him. Then Carrie was hugging him, her warmth and scent driving the last remnants of the nightmare away. With one arm, he clumsily returned the embrace, his other hand reaching for Kaid, needing to touch them both.

  “I’ve never been alone,” he whispered. “I’ve always sensed others around me. Now there’s nothing. I’m mind-dead.” It was a statement of fact, like he might say his pelt was black. He felt numb, as empty of emotions as he had on the Prime ship.

  “Your psi Talent will come back,” Kaid reassured him. “Until it does, we’ll never be far from you. Getting you back to full health is our priority.”

  “You’re not mind-dead,” said Carrie forcefully. “You just need time for your mind to heal now that the implant’s been deactivated and removed.”

  He remembered the implant and felt just under his jaw for the dressing that circled his neck. Like his head, it had begun to throb. He ignored it; compared to the unremitting pain J’koshuk had inflicted on him, it was nothing. “How much damage did it do?” he asked, trying to remember what Kaid had said the night before.

  “Damage isn’t the right word,” said Kaid. “It was— invasive. With Valtegans who volunteer to become soldiers, its normal purpose is to take over the brain’s hormone production and release. It does this by growing tendrils that create their own neural connections in the brain. They’re not functioning now the control unit’s been removed.”

  “He’s just awakened, Tallinu, it’s too soon to go into all these details,” Carrie said.

  “I need to know,” he said, glancing at her. “What are these tendrils? Could they become active again?”

  “Without the external unit, they shouldn’t be able to become active. The TeLaxaudin bioengineered the implants for the Primes— they’re part device and part a living tissue that bonds with the host. You’re being kept in IC for the time being until the physician is sure your own system has stabilized and is functioning properly again. And in case you have another seizure,” Kaid added, hand tightening round his.

  He’d forgotten about that. “Have they found out what caused it yet?”

  “Them,” corrected Kaid gently. “You had more than one. No, we don’t know, but you haven’t had one since the unit was removed twelve hours ago, which is encouraging. Kzizysus, the TeLaxaudin physician, helped remove the implant. He’s taken copies of your scans and medical data back to the Prime ship to study, to see if he can discover what caused the seizures.”

  “Chy’qui implanted me, he should have some idea,” he said sharply, his ears folding in the beginnings of anger.

  Kaid glanced briefly at Carrie. “Kzizysus didn’t actually see you having the first seizure, Kusac. Doctor Chy’qui only called him in to adjust the implant. The subsequent seizures could have been caused either by a failure of the implant to take completely, or by it trying to adapt to your alien physiology. It wasn’t designed for Sholan use after all, only for the Valtegans.”

  “Are you saying that there’s some doubt about whether I needed an implant at all? That this Chy’qui could have been lying?” He felt anger surging through him, bringing with it the familiar wave of pain. J’koshuk had inadvertently taught him how to cope with pain. After being cut off from his emotions for so long, it was almost a relief to feel anger, no matter the cost.

  “It’s a possibility,” agreed Carrie, reaching out to touch him reassuringly. “We were only able to find out as much as we have because of Annuur, leader of Captain Tirak’s Cabbaran navigators. He was able to translate what Kzizysus said for us. The Cabbarans are old allies of the TeLaxaud— they have a natural talent that allows them to communicate with the TeLaxaudin more accurately than any other species.”

  “Why did he do it?” he demanded, pulling his hand away from Kaid’s and sitting upright. “Why implant me if I didn’t need it?”

  “To experiment on you and Carrie,” said Kaid. “Chy’qui knew you were a Leska pair, but he didn’t know about me until after Doctor Zayshul had operated on Carrie. He was the one responsible for keeping the three of us apart, and for letting J’koshuk torture you.”

  His anger grew, exacerbating the dull aches in his head and neck. As his pelt and hair rose, so too did the pain level until he felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire. “I want to see Chy’qui now,” he snarled, shaking his head in an effort to relieve the pain as he tried to force himself back to calmness.

  Kaid put a restraining hand on his arm. “No. It’s over, Kusac. Chy’qui’s been arrested by the Primes, not only for ordering J’koshuk to torture you, but for using you to try and kill Prince Zsurtul. He’ll be dealt with, believe me. I’m going to demand I be allowed to scan his mind later today. I want to know why you were implanted as much as you do.”

  Thrusting Kaid aside, he flung the covers back, attempting to get up. “I want to see him myself. Dammit, Kaid!” he snarled angrily, fending off his sword-brother’s efforts to prevent him from rising, “Let me go! If not him, then Doctor Zayshul! I need answers!” In the distance, he could hear the faint sound of an alarm.

  “I can’t allow you see any of the Primes while you’re in this state, Kusac.”

  The door slid open, a blue-coated physician rushing over to them as Kaid used his full strength to force him back against the pillows.

  “I told you he was to be kept calm!” snapped the physician.

  His rage spiraled out of control, leaving his body racked with pain. As the physician leaned over him, he caught sight of the hypodermic. Though every movement, every touch was agony, he twisted to one side, trying to avoid the medic’s hand while redoubling his efforts to escape from Kaid’s grasp.

  “No sedatives! La’quo, they gave me la’quo, Kaid!” Then he felt the chill of the hypo nozzle touching his skin. “No!” He was frantic now, but as he felt the sting of the pressurized drug being injected, he knew it was too late. Even as he flinched, it began to take effect. He collapsed back on the bed, his limbs robbed of their strength as the drug swept quickly through him. As it did, the pain began to recede.

  “Don’t want to sleep,” he said with difficulty, fighting to keep his eyes open as Kaid released him. “Dreams— always bad dreams.”

  “There won’t be any, Kusac,” said Kaid, reaching out to run gentle fingers across his jawline. “The physician knows about the la’quo. This sedative won’t activate any still in your system. I understand your anger at what Chy’qui’s cost you, but you have to let it go. Nothing can undo what you’ve been through, but he will be punished for it, you have my word. Rest easy now, we’ll stay with you.”

  As he lost his battle to stay conscious, Kaid’s voice began to fade.

  Stronghold, Zhal-S’Asha, 18th day (October)

  Again he shuddered, pulling his thoughts with difficulty away from the past. That had been the beginning of his realization that even though he’d killed J’koshuk, in death the Valtegan priest still continued to torment him. As he turned away from the darkness outside the window, the artificial brightness of the lounge momentarily dazzled him. The room seemed to lurch, and as he staggered toward the table in the center, he was once more back on the Kz’adul, reliving his first meeting with J’koshuk…

  the Kz’adul, Zhal-Zhalwae, 4th day (May)

  The smell of unfamiliar antiseptics was strong in the air. Had they reached their rendezvous so soon? It seemed like only the night before he’d gone to sleep. Automatically, he reached for Carrie with his mind.
>
  Pain exploded at the base of his skull, coursing down his spine then out to his limbs and tail. As spasms racked his body, he yowled in fear and shock. He was falling but, back arched and limbs rigid, he was unable to move to save himself. He slammed into the floor, the impact knocking any remaining air from his lungs. Wave upon wave of fiery agony surged through his body as he lay there barely able to gasp for breath. It seemed to last forever, then as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped and his body went limp. But the pain remained.

  Whimpering softly, he attempted to move his trembling limbs, tried to curl himself into a ball. Every movement, no matter how small, hurt; where his body touched the floor, where his limbs touched each other, it felt as if he were still being consumed by the fire that had surged through him.

  He heard footsteps approaching and slowly tilted his head toward them. He knew fear as a scent he’d never thought to smell again filled his nostrils. Blurred images were all he could see because of the tears in his eyes; he blinked in an effort to clear them. The shapes resolved themselves into the hem of a red robe above a pair of booted feet.

  “Your name is Kusac, and you’re my prisoner,” the Valtegan said, his Sholan overlaid by a faint lisping hiss as his tongue tried to form the alien sounds. “You have just had your first lesson in the futility of using your mind powers. Unless you enjoyed the experience, I suggest you don’t attempt it again. If you do, the collar you wear round your neck will respond by delivering the pain you just experienced. It also sends a signal to my wrist unit. I will then administer more pain. I control the amount, the severity, and its duration. In short, I control you.”

  He tried to speak but his throat was so dry and sore that he began to cough, sending fresh agony lancing through his body. When the coughing ceased, he pushed himself up on his hands until his head and chest were clear of the floor. Reptilian yellow eyes regarded him dispassionately from a pale green face. On his wrist, the Valtegan wore what Kusac recognized as a control bracelet.

  “What do you want from me?” he whispered. “Who are you?”

  “I am Inquisitor Priest J’koshuk, lately in the service of General M’ezozakk, Planetary Governor to His Imperial Highness, Emperor M’iok’kul, may His name be revered for all time. Now I serve the Primes.” He indicated the guard standing several feet behind him.

  He looked, and the sight made the knot of fear in the pit of his stomach swell. The guard stood like a statue, a pistol trained directly at him. Over the suit of black, nonreflective battle armor was a white tabardlike garment. He looked higher, seeing the almost rippling surface of the faceplate. Nausea welled up inside him and he looked away quickly. Where had the Valtegans gotten these allies from?

  “Why am I a prisoner? Where are my companions?”

  “I have told you all you need to know. Stand up,” J’koshuk ordered.

  The pain was beginning to subside at last, and as he slowly pushed himself upright on his still-shaking limbs, he realized just who the priest was. M’ezozakk had been the Governor of Keiss, the Human colony world where Carrie had lived before the Sholans had liberated it from the Valtegans. J’koshuk had been the one responsible for torturing Carrie’s twin sister to death in an effort to gain information about the Human resistance movement there. How the hell had they gotten hold of the Profit and all aboard her? And what of Carrie, and Kaid— and T’Chebbi? Were they still alive? Carrie must be, despite her injuries, because otherwise— he’d be dead too. Yet he couldn’t sense her at all.

  Pain gripped him again, felling him to the floor. His nerves already inflamed by the previous punishment, this time it felt a thousand times worse. He lay there, keening his agony, unable to stop because somehow, it helped lessen the pain. Finally it ceased.

  “You took too long,” said J’koshuk. “Now get up.”

  Every muscle in his body shrieked its objections as, still hypersensitized, he tried to move. Hands slick with sweat slipped on the tiled floor, unable to gain purchase. He clawed at the gaps between the tiles, finally managing to get a grip and lift his head and shoulders. J’koshuk was reaching for his wrist unit again.

  “No! For pity’s sake, no more,” he gasped, pushing himself up onto his haunches. “I’ll never stand if you do it again!”

  “Pity?” said J’koshuk, thoughtfully. “An interesting concept. I have none,” he said, his voice suddenly cold. He pressed the button, releasing it again almost instantly.

  This time, when the brief jolt of energy from the collar surged through his nervous system, his body arched upward and he found himself staggering to his feet.

  “See how quickly you learn?” the priest said, turning his back on him. “You’ll follow me to your new quarters.”

  “Wait! Where am I? Tell me what it is you want!”

  J’koshuk stopped, looking over his shoulder. “I won’t tolerate curiosity in my captives,” he said, brow creasing. “I will not be so lenient next time. You have been told all you need to know for now. As for what I want, you’ll find out later, when you fully realize how dependent on me you are.” With that, the priest gestured to the guard. “Take charge of him.”

  The guard stirred, then moments later another, wearing only the black armor, entered. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he strode toward Kusac.

  His mind seemed to freeze as, swaying slightly, he waited for the guard. It was only when the gloved hand closed round his arm, pressing tightly into his flesh, that his mind began to function again. Powered armor. The Valtegans had had nothing like this on Keiss. What the hell was going on here?

  *

  He was afraid, mortally afraid, but as he was dragged staggering out of the medical area, Kaid’s training came back to him, giving him something to focus on other than his fear. With difficulty, he pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on his surroundings. The corridors told him nothing— they could be anywhere— a space station, a ship, or even a building complex on some world. The air was odorless, scrubbed clean by recycling plants.

  Then J’koshuk and the white-robed Prime stopped at the open door of a small room, waiting for them. As he was led inside, he saw it contained only a bed and basic sanitary facilities.

  The sound of an electronic translator speaking Sholan startled him, and he twisted around in the guard’s grasp to stare at J’koshuk and the Prime. As he did, the grip on his arm tightened viciously and he was jerked back.

  “I will examine him before leaving you to your work,” it said. “I want to check that the drug levels are adequate.”

  Drugs? What kind of drugs? He didn’t feel drugged.

  “As you wish,” replied the priest.

  Abruptly, the guard released him, turning him round before stepping back and unslinging his rifle. He took up a position in front of the still open door.

  “Sit,” said the Prime, unclipping a small unit from the belt that circled his tabard.

  The fear came rushing back despite his efforts to remain calm. The smallness of the room was amplifying it, making him feel even more trapped and powerless.

  “I’d prefer to stand,” he said.

  The next moment, he was staggering backward, his face burning from the force of J’koshuk’s slap. Colliding with the side of the bed, he found himself abruptly sitting down.

  “When you are given an order, you will obey it instantly,” said the priest, his skin darkening with anger as he displayed a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. “You will not speak unless given leave to do so. Do you understand?”

  Too shocked by pain and the speed with which the Valtegan had moved to answer, he merely nodded.

  J’koshuk’s hand lashed out again, to be caught in midair by the Prime. “Later,” he said. “I wish to examine him now.”

  “He didn’t answer me,” said J’koshuk angrily, pulling his arm free.

  “You did not give him leave to do so,” the translator said. The Prime reached out to take hold of him by the jaw. “I wish to examine the implant on your neck. You will s
it still while I do this.”

  Involuntarily, his hand went up to pull away the Prime’s. As his fingers curled round the gloved wrist, the Prime moved his grip until the thumb and index finger pressed deep into the soft tissue under his jaw, forcing his head up.

  “Do not presume to touch me. You are not indispensable. We can get what we want from one of the other members of your crew. You will release me and you will sit still while I examine you, otherwise the priest will use the pain collar again.”

  He let go, sitting there while the Prime put a small scanning device up to the left side of his neck. At least he’d gotten some information out of the alien. He now knew that they had everyone from the Profit. A wave of dizziness swept through him, blurring his vision and making him light-headed. By the time it had passed, the Prime had left and the door was closing, leaving him alone with the priest and guard.

  The side of his neck began to itch and he put his hand up to investigate. He was shocked to find a hard, regular— something— attached to the flesh just under his left ear. As he probed it carefully with his fingertips, he began to feel sick. Immediately he stopped touching it, the nausea disappeared.

  “That’s the implant,” said J’koshuk, his tone conversational. “The Primes control it, and their drugs control your mind. Already your ability to communicate mentally with other members of your crew is being destroyed. It won’t prevent you from trying, but when you do, it will alert the collar. Every time you feel any emotion but fear, it will trigger the collar and my wrist unit. You know what happens then. Pain.”

  He tried to take in the enormity of what the Valtegan was saying, but his mind seemed to have shut down again and he could only stare blankly at his tormentor.

  “You asked what I wanted from you. It’s not what I want, but what the Primes want,” J’koshuk said, moving closer. “Information about your people’s involvement on the Human world of Keiss. And the female they found in a cryo unit like yours.”