strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  With a growl of annoyance, the traveler turned round. “You want to be a bit more careful…” He stopped as soon as he caught sight of the distinctive black uniform and badge.

  “Apologies,” Kusac murmured, inclining his head.

  The male said nothing, merely turned back to the counter, but the incident had the desired effect of drawing all eyes to him. A group of people who’d been standing quietly drinking moved away, joining the steady stream of those making their way to the departure area. The assistant behind the counter leaned forward and called out to him.

  “Can I serve you now, Brother?”

  Kusac kept his sardonic thoughts to himself as he indicated those ahead of him. “I’ll wait, thank you. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “No trouble. I’m sure no one will mind if I serve you first. You’ll be wanting to be on your way.” The tone was firm. He wasn’t offering to serve him, he was insisting. But then, he’d counted on this response.

  “C’shar,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket for some coins.

  The sense of relief from both the stall holder and customers as he left with his disposable mug of c’shar was palpable, even to him. Sipping it, he headed for the Chagda Station lounge.

  Once there, he made for the sanitary facilities, tossing his empty mug into a bin on the way. Plans of the complex had shown him that if he placed the disruptor in the air-conditioning duct, it would have the desired effect. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark-clad figure get up from one of the nearby seats and follow him. Dzaou.

  The sanitary facilities were empty, which simplified matters considerably. “You watch the door,” he ordered, hauling the nearest bin toward the air vent high above the washbasins.

  Taking the lid off, he upended it, letting the wastepaper spill onto the floor. Climbing on top, he pulled a small spanner out of his jacket pocket and began undoing the bolts.

  “Someone’s coming,” said Dzaou, a few minutes later, pushing the door shut and leaning on it. “Hurry up. I can’t keep them out for long.”

  He grunted, letting the third bolt drop to the ground. Reaching for the bag, he unfastened it and pulled the disruptor out. The size of a pack of stim twigs, it fit easily into the aperture when he swung the cover aside on its remaining bolt. Letting the grille fall back into place, he leaped down, kicking the loose bolts away with his foot.

  “Done,” he said, picking the bin up, righting it, and placing it against the nearest wall. Turning, he saw Dzaou suddenly release the door, letting the male outside stumble into the room.

  Glaring at him, the Sholan was about to complain when he realized they were both wearing the Brotherhood blacks.

  “Damned door,” said Dzaou. “Sticking like that. They want to get it seen to.”

  “And get this place cleaned up,” said Kusac disdainfully as he followed him out. “Disgraceful the way they’re letting hygiene standards fall like this.”

  Side by side, they headed back up the corridor to the central area then made their way toward the military exit.

  “Now tell me the problem,” he said in a low voice.

  Dzaou glanced at him, face pulled into a scowl of annoyance. “Security’s been increased since yesterday. Raiban’s lot. Wasn’t easy for me to come in from the field and find a place to change into this uniform.”

  “You managed,” he said shortly, seeing the barrier ahead of them manned by one of the Intelligence Corps as well as the usual two Allied Forces personnel. “My cover should be enough for both of us.”

  “What if they want ID?”

  “You’re my aide, you’re returning here after escorting me to the Illshar,” he said, continuing to walk toward the checkpoint.

  He stopped, took his ID out of the bag and handed it to the Sholan guard. “Brother Kusac Aldatan, bound for the Illshar,” he said.

  The Intelligence officer leaned forward and took the card from the trooper to examine it. “Bit out of your league, isn’t it?” he asked. “A supply ship?”

  He reached for his card, deftly flicking it out of the officer’s hand. “I’m captaining it,” he said. “It’s bound for Haven.”

  “Ah, Haven. The Brotherhood hideaway. What’s happening out there, then?”

  He smiled, a Human one that exposed his teeth and made the two troopers back off. “Check the flight schedules,” he said softly, a low growl underscoring his words. “It’s a regular delivery. Since Raiban started her budget cuts, we see to our own supplies. Dzaou, open the barrier. We’re late already.”

  Dzaou stepped forward but the officer held his arm in the way. “ID first,” he snapped. “No one goes through without ID.”

  “You questioning my staff?” he asked, raising an eye ridge. “He’s not coming with me, merely picking up a copy of the manifest for Master Rhyaz. Do you really want to delay us further and take the matter up with the Guild Master at Stronghold? Or are you going to let us through?”

  The officer’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be waiting for him,” he snarled. “Ten minutes is all you got!”

  “It’s all we’ll need,” he said silkily as he and Dzaou passed through the narrow gate.

  As they walked down the corridor to the exit, Dzaou began to increase his pace. “Don’t rush,” Kusac hissed. “Take your time.”

  “I want to be out of here,” the other muttered as he slowed down.

  He glanced at Dzaou. “They obviously trained you differently back then.”

  Dzaou threw him a look of pure anger. “What would you know about Brotherhood training? You were brought up a Telepath!”

  “Leave those attitudes behind right now or you’ll come to grief on this mission,” said Kusac coldly. “I won’t tolerate them.” He pushed the door at the end open and stepped out into the rain and wind.

  The Couana stood alongside the Illshar. Both ships had their engines running, ready for immediate takeoff. As they made their way across to them, Kusac reached into his bag, pulling out the control pad for the disruptor.

  “Let’s hope this works,” he muttered as he activated the unit. Tossing it onto the ground toward the other ship, he began to run toward the Couana.

  *

  As soon as they’d boarded and the landing ramp was closed, he hit the ship’s comm. “Get us out of here,” he ordered. “Jump as soon as we reach an acceptable altitude and velocity.”

  “Aye, sir,” came Banner’s reply.

  The deck began to vibrate beneath his feet as he raced for the elevator, Dzaou close behind him. Acceleration was rapid, and he had to grasp the grab rails to prevent himself from being pushed to the floor. He hit the switch and they began to rise. They only had one level to go, then they were tumbling out for the adjacent elevator platform up to the bridge. The short distance from there to the bridge air lock seemed to take them forever.

  Once there, he flung himself into the Captain’s chair and began checking the console. Dzaou ran past him to his own post.

  “Weapon ports open and on-line,” said Dzaou, quickly routing them from Comms to his station.

  “Set jump coordinates from my data,” he said, inserting a data crystal.

  “Receiving data. Coordinates locked in,” said Khadui.

  “Jump engines on-line,” said Chima. “Necessary velocity and height achieved, Captain.”

  “Jump,” he said. “Is Control tracking us?” he asked the comms operator as the familiar pulse of energy from the jump engines pushed them briefly back into their seats.

  “Jump engines initiated,” said Banner.

  “Communications from Control ceased before you boarded, sir,” said Jayza. “Long-range scanners detected nothing prior to jump. I’d say we made a clean exit.”

  “What’s the penalty for stealing a private yacht like this anyway?” inquired Chima quietly.

  “You don’t want to know,” said Jayza.

  He began to unwind slightly as the inertial dampers cut in. Three days, then he’d find out whether this mission was a trap or only too
genuine. He didn’t know which he feared more.

  “When are you briefing us, Captain?” asked Banner, turning round to look at him.

  “In three days,” he said, putting his hand up to rub his forehead. A headache, not helped by his lack of sleep, was starting to build. He got to his feet, retrieving the data crystal and putting it back in his pocket. “Stand down weapons, Dzaou. Banner, take over. I’m going to my quarters. Call me when it’s time to eat,” he said abruptly.

  Kz’adul, Zhal-Zhalwae, 23rd day (May)

  “To prevent General Kezule from waking from his laalgo trance, we’ve kept him in a reduced stasis field,” Zayshul said to Medical Director Zsoyshuu. “I plan to start revival procedures today.”

  “What of the necessary fluid samples? Have they been taken? General Kezule represents the last of the line of the late Emperor Q’emgo’h, a perfect fusion of the Warrior and Intellectual castes,” he said, staring intently out of the comm screen at her. “Whether or not he chooses to mate cannot be left to chance. We need his genes, untainted as they are by the madness of the M’zullians and J’kirtikkians, for the basis of our new Warrior caste.”

  “Kzizysus and Chy’qui had it done, Director,” she said, wishing this interview were over.

  “Good. Then see that you initiate the breeding program instantly. I want at least a hundred eggs implanted and put into accelerated development.”

  “What about the latest M’zullian ones Chy’qui started last week? There must be a couple of hundred of them.”

  “Terminate all but fifty, Zayshul. Chy’qui shouldn’t have started so many. We do need ordinary troops, but without those we’ll breed from Kezule with the intellect and forcefulness to control them…” He shook his head. “It’s a risk neither the Emperor nor I are prepared to take, Doctor.”

  “But they’re almost at birth maturity,” she objected. “I’d be terminating viable hatchlings.”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor Zayshul, it must be done. It’s the quality of our future warriors that’s important, not the quantity. Unless you can change the gender at this stage? If so, you can keep another fifty.”

  She hesitated. It was worth a try, though ideally they should have been maintained at a higher temperature from the first. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “What about the new batch? Any females?”

  “Twenty should be sufficient. We don’t need as many of them. You have to realize we’re creating a new caste, Zayshul, upsetting the balance that we’ve had in our society for the last fifteen hundred years. It must be done carefully, introducing them slowly to ensure they don’t take advantage of our weaknesses to overthrow the stability we’ve built over the last millennium and a half. As the last true Warrior male related to Q’emgo’h, Kezule himself could pose a threat to our Emperor. In the hands of any faction so minded, he could be used to pull down our Lord of Light Himself. We must be very sure of his loyalty.”

  “I understand, Director. I have adapted the sleep programs you advised me to use on him. He should waken fully adjusted to our culture, and his own innate sense of duty and responsibility should ensure his loyalty to Emperor Cheu’ko’h.”

  “His gratitude for being liberated from the Sholans should be enough, I hope,” said Zsoyshuu dryly. “Very well, Doctor Zayshul, you have your orders. Report back to me on your arrival at K’oish’ik and I’ll have the breeding units collected by royal guards.”

  She sighed as she cut the connection and got up. It pained her to have to terminate the M’zullian pre-hatchlings in the breeder, but Director Zsoyshuu was right, they couldn’t afford the risk. When they were eventually taken from the growth tubes, they would be young adults, pre-programmed by the sleep tapes to enable them to live effectively within the strata of society being created for them. But their basic natures could not be known until later. They would need to be adjusted individually, once their personalities had been discerned by those living and working with them. Now that they had Kezule, it was safer all around to rely on him.

  She headed for her research lab, surprised to find her assistant Na’qui already there in the company of a steward. Frowning, she let the door close behind her. “What are you doing here, K’hedduk?” She wasn’t sure why, but his presence here made her feel uneasy.

  “I’ve been reassigned to you, Doctor, now that you’re once more Head of Med Research,” he said smoothly. “I was ordered to report to you and was told you were here.”

  She jerked her head toward the door. “You’ve done that. This area is off limits to all but my medical staff.”

  “Your assistant let me in,” he said. “If you wish me to stay out, then I will, of course, comply. In the meantime, would you like a midday meal brought for you?”

  “Yes, for both of us. We’ll be here all day. Now go.”

  Inclining his head, he left.

  “You shouldn’t have let him in,” she said, moving over to the computer interfaces. “I want him kept out of here in future.”

  Na’qui gave her a surprised look. “You don’t usually react so strongly to people, Doctor.”

  “He was Chy’qui’s steward, I don’t trust him.”

  “I’ll see he’s kept out, then. What have we got on that’s going to keep us so busy in here today? I thought you planned to wake that General of yours.”

  “He isn’t mine,” Zayshul said, sitting down at one of the vid screens. “I’ll have to postpone that for now. Zsoyshuu wants me to terminate most of the M’zullian pre-hatchlings and start up a hundred from General Kezule’s samples.” She placed her hand on the desk interface and waited while it verified her identity. “We’re keeping only fifty, but if we can change their sex, I got a reprieve for another fifty.”

  “This late on?” said Na’qui, bringing a chair over to sit beside her. “We normally separate those designated female after a day, never mind nearly a week.”

  “I need an exact start date and time for them,” she said, calling up the data on the screen. “Perhaps they weren’t all initiated at once. See there,” she pointed. “There’s ten. They’ve only been in two days. I can designate those as female. Chy’qui set them up to start automatically so he probably intended to do the same.” Her claw tips hit the depressions in the desk, swiftly changing the environment and thus the gender of the embryos from male to female. She continued to scan the data from the breeder units.

  “The rest are all too old, Doctor,” said Na’qui. “He did start the rest at the same time— see, one hundred and seventy-two hours ago— six and a half days. Even introducing hormones at this stage won’t do more than give you males with secondary female characteristics.”

  “Time is the problem,” Zayshul said, clearing the screen to punch in some theoretical data. “If I reduce the stasis field around them, slowing their development down to less than half normal, then introducing the requisite hormones into their placental fluid at a normal rate might reverse the male characteristics. I can increase the field again and let them develop as females. It isn’t as if we don’t have plenty of time for that. They won’t be coming out of the birth tubes for several months.”

  “Their chances aren’t high,” observed Na’qui. “You’ll have to either breach the seals on the unit to physically check that they’re developing properly, or scan them, introducing another element of risk into their environment.”

  “I’m going to have to transfer them into another unit anyway because of the temperature differences. So do I terminate all one hundred and fifty?” she asked, looking at her. “Or take this chance of keeping them alive and risk compromising the fifty males?”

  Na’qui lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I think your only chance is with the two-day-old ones. They’re already in a separate unit. But try, why not? At worst they’ll be terminated anyway, at best, some may be successful. We can do a last minute visual scan before they’re birthed from the growth tubes.”

  The ridges round Zayshul’s eyes met in the center of her face as she frowned. “I don’t w
ant to even think of terminating them at that late stage.”

  “How about using the purge function to transfer those forty embryos into fresh tubes in another unit? It would save you having to enter the breeding area and risk contaminating the fifty males.”

  “Good thinking, but not the purge, it’s too violent. The birth expulsion sequence. We’d have to supervise each transfer manually, though. The system is only set up to purge or birth them, not transfer.”

  “Then let’s start with purging the others first. I’ll do that while you set up a fresh unit,” said Na’qui. “Will you key in my station, please?”

  *

  The purge had only just begun when an alarm went off. “Unacceptable energy level fluctuations in stasis unit three-seven,” droned the computerized voice.

  “Damn!” Zayshul was on her feet instantly as the door into her lab slid open.

  Framed in the doorway was assistant medic Zhy’edd. “Kezule,” he said succinctly.

  “I heard,” said Zayshul shortly as she rushed toward him. “Take over here. We’re in the middle of purging one hundred and ten of the M’zullian embryos. Tell me you know the procedure!”

  “I know it,” he said, heading for her vid. “I’ll continue monitoring for you.”

  “Na’qui,” she snapped. “With me!”

  *

  Left alone, he waited until the door was sealed behind them before pulling a small card from the top pocket of his white coveralls and slipping it into the reader slot on the desk. Then he pressed the inter-ship communicator on his wrist.

  “K’hedduk? You should have the feed from her station now,” he said quietly. “You were right, she’d just changed the temperature on the hybrids.”

  “I’m reversing it now. It shouldn’t have harmed them. You activate the M’zullian backup container, I’ll see to concealing the presence of the hybrids from the data banks,” came the crisp reply. “When you’re ready, let me know, then I’ll transfer your unit to the position occupied by the hybrids. She’ll never know the difference.”