strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  “What if they get back before we’re finished?”

  “They won’t. I made sure the General will awaken now.”

  *

  Deep in a shielded room on the lower lab level, automated machines rolled forward to move a sealed unit containing ten breeder tubes. To the naked eye, they would have appeared empty apart from a small, tethering device. But K’hedduk knew exactly what they held, as did Zhy’edd.

  *

  A medic was already working frantically at the controls of Kezule’s stasis unit, but the electric blue energy field that surrounded the General’s body was slowly fading. Zayshul pushed him aside, turning off the alarm, then systematically checked each system that showed a warning light.

  “What happened?” she demanded, switching to the auxiliary control system in an effort to bypass the problem and reactivate the field. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered as the stasis field continued to falter. “The backup as well? Was there a power surge? Did something short out?”

  “I don’t know,” the medic said. “Zhy’edd and I’d just come on duty and were at the other side of the room running the standard shift checks when the alarm suddenly came on.”

  “Warning. Warning,” intoned the computer. “Critical malfunction in stasis field generator. Patient life signs returning to normal levels. Initiate shutdown procedures.”

  “We’re going to have to sedate him,” she said, switching off the stasis field. Abruptly, the remaining faint glow of energy faded and died. “Jikulay, get a recovery room ready for him. Na’qui, I want a floater over her now. And call security. Get two guards dispatched here immediately. This patient’s a true warrior, he could wake fighting mad!”

  Keeping one eye on the General’s still form and the other on her controls, she began to lower the cradle that held him down onto the bed below.

  “What about the breeding program?” asked Na’qui, running for the floater as she activated her comm link to call for the guards.

  “Zhy’edd can cope, the system’s automated.” The cradle came to a stop, nestling itself into its recesses on the bed. Leaving the controls, she headed for the drug cupboard. “I’ll try sedating him. We’ve got to do the transfer now. I don’t have time to revive him.” She loaded the pressure gun, then moved over to the supine body of General Kezule.

  “Get maintenance onto this unit immediately we’re clear of here,” she ordered, bending over the General and placing the gun against his neck. “I want to know why it and the backup systems both failed.”

  *

  Consciousness returned. Instantly alert, his system went into overdrive, senses extended and feeding him information on many levels. Someone was bending over him, pressing a cold object to his neck. He smelled drugs, and the scent of females of his own species. His hand snaked out, grasping hold of her wrist as he leaped from the bed.

  As his feet hit the floor, his legs buckled under him. He grabbed for the side of the bed, feeling suddenly sick and dizzy, confused that his body was failing to respond as it should. As if in slow motion, he heard the sound of a metal object hitting the floor and bouncing several times before coming to rest. A wave of light-headedness swept through him but he managed to keep hold of his captive and lever himself upright.

  He’d obviously been unconscious for longer than he’d thought. When his vision returned, he found himself staring into the face of his female captive. Shock and fear flooded through him. Abruptly, he let her go, attempting to back away. He was in no fit state to fight a female.

  He could hear his blood pounding in his ears— his heart rate was way too high— if he didn’t control it, he was going to black out. He risked a quick glance around the room. This looked like no breeding chamber he’d ever seen. More, these females were clothed, and he was naked. He hoped they’d realize that in his present condition he posed no threat, but he doubted it. Females weren’t known for their intelligence, only their ferocity toward males.

  His legs buckled under him again and as he clutched at the bed with both hands, the females suddenly sprang to life.

  “Help me!” called the one beside him as she grasped hold of him.

  “I’ll get the sedative,” said a male voice.

  “No! He’s no threat to us like this. There’s no need to sedate him,” he heard her say as she began to support him. “General Kezule, you’re safe among your own kind again. Do you remember the Sholans telling you about us?”

  He hadn’t the strength to resist them as they hauled him upright before forcing him to lie down on the floating bed. He did have vague recollections of several such conversations, but he’d paid little attention to them. He lay quiet for now, only thankful these females and their owner hadn’t turned on him.

  “Put a blanket over him, Na’qui,” the one in gray ordered. “We’re from K’oish’ik, General. From the City of Light. You’re among your own kind,” she repeated as a blanket was put over him and the floater began to move. “You’ve been unconscious for several days. While you were on Shola, there was a cave-in. You were hit on the head by rubble and went into a laalgo trance to heal. I’m your doctor, and I’m taking you to a recovery room where you’ll be monitored for a few days. Do you understand?”

  He stared up at her, his mind still trying to cope with the fact that she’d spoken intelligibly. “You’re Valtegan?” he asked, trying to sit up. “A female?”

  “Yes. I’m your doctor,” she said, gently pushing him down again. “We’ve come a long way since your time, General Kezule. Females are no longer segregated from society and kept half-feral in breeding rooms. You are in no danger from us, I assure you. Just rest for now, everything will be explained to you shortly.”

  “Seniormost,” said Na’qui quietly, trying to catch the doctor’s attention. “Your other work, what shall we do?”

  “Let me settle the General, then we’ll continue. Get a lab assistant to fetch him one of those meals I programmed into the food distributer for him.”

  “Yes, Seniormost,” Na’qui said, falling back slightly.

  As they passed out into a corridor, he heard the sound of running feet. He turned his head toward it, trying to see but found his view blocked by her.

  “You took your time,” she was saying sharply. “The crisis is over. I want you on guard outside his room. No one but myself or Na’qui is to enter or leave. If anyone even asks, you will take them into custody and contact me immediately, no matter what the hour. Is that absolutely clear?”

  “Yes, Seniormost Doctor Zayshul,” came the reply.

  The voice was deeper, the scent male, but subtly different, even from that of the male in the room where he’d wakened. So her name was Doctor Zayshul, and if the title Seniormost meant anything, she had a high rank.

  He caught a glimpse of the two guards as his floater passed between them and into the room. Tall, dressed in black, they carried rifles the like of which he’d not seen before. Then he was inside. The floater was brought to a stop beside another bed, then pushed against it till they were flush with each other.

  “I can move myself,” he said, sitting up to slide across. The one in green, Na’qui, reached out to pull the covers back for him.

  The bed had narrow, rigid sides level with the surface of the mattress. More shocks were in store for him as he put his weight on it. He hissed sharply as it gave slightly under him before immediately molding itself to his body and beginning to radiate warmth into his cold limbs.

  “It isn’t actually alive,” reassured Na’qui as she replaced the covers over him. “But it does have a biological component that responds to your physical comfort. The TeLaxaudin designed it for us.”

  This female was slightly shorter than the other, with the look of those from his time, but like the doctor, she was far slimmer. Confident now that he was in no present danger from them, he began to relax a little. It seemed they intended to treat him well, for now at least. Gently, the bed beneath his upper body began to rise. The doctor handed a remote controll
er to him.

  “Press this when you’re at a comfortable level,” she said, “and the one next to it when you want to lie down again. You’re weak because you’ve been unconscious, General. You need rest and food to build your strength up again.”

  “Why the guards outside if I’m not a prisoner?” he risked asking as he stopped the bed.

  “For your protection,” she said, reaching up to the wall above him. “We have had a few— problems— over the last two or three days. They involved dissidents. We don’t want to take any risks with your safety. Once you’ve recovered, you’ll be allocated your own quarters and taken to meet our Captain. You’ll even be shown round the Kz’adul.”

  “Am I on a warship?”

  Finished, she stood back where he could see her. “No, we’re a survey and science exploration vessel. Don’t you remember being told that?”

  It was a deep space survey craft, its emphasis on medical and scientific research. “I remember,” he said slowly. “You have a treaty with the Sholans, and it was threatened by a faction from the City of Light. A faction that involved one of the Emperor Cheu’ko’h’s personal advisers.”

  She nodded her head once. “Yes. As a member of the military caste, and a distant relative of your own emperor, I know you’ll appreciate the need for us to protect you.”

  He said nothing, wondering instead how he remembered all this, when he’d been told it. If he’d been unconscious as they said…The door opened, drawing his attention. A female entered, carrying a tray. Had his world become one populated and ruled by females? Were males in the minority? Then he knew that it wasn’t so, it was only that the females had finally taken their rightful place as equals alongside the males.

  “I know you’re used to raw food, General,” Doctor Zayshul said, taking the tray from the white-clad assistant, “but we have it cooked. Your stomach can cope with it, but to help you get used to it more quickly, I’ve made a calmative herbal drink for you.”

  She put the tray in front of him, taking the cover off the plate and handing it back to the assistant. Several pieces of thickly cut meat, obviously lightly cooked, flanked by a small pile of green vegetables, lay there. Beside it was a widemouthed cup filled with a transparent pale green liquid. The combined scents wafted up to him, appealing despite the fact the food was cooked. A fork and knife were also on the tray. Metal ones. They were either extremely foolish, or they trusted him.

  “You’ll find you no longer have a need for the la’quo plant,” she said, moving away from his bedside. “I have work to do, I’m afraid, General. If you should need me, press the red button on your remote. It will page me. Otherwise, I’ll see you presently.”

  He watched them leave, then returned to contemplating his meal. He picked up the knife, feeling the edge. Sharp, and pointed at the end. He placed it back on the tray. There was so much that was unanswered, including why he wasn’t weaker than he was. Then the answer came to him, just as it had before. They’d fed him intravenously. Was everything he needed to know already there, in his mind, waiting for him? No, but there was enough to allow him to cope with this new time, and to reassure him, as a warrior, that he was an honored guest, not a captive.

  Hunger growled in his belly, making it tighten into a knot. He picked up the drink first, aware it could be drugged. He sniffed it, then let the tips of his tongue touch the warm liquid. Nothing overt at least. It even tasted quite pleasant when he drank it.

  Putting the cup down, he took up his fork and speared a piece of meat before cutting it in two. Lifting the chunk to his nose, he sniffed it before committing it to his mouth. He’d had cooked food before. It was a prerequisite when one received an invitation to the Palace, and he knew why. Raw meat fed the warrior caste’s aggression. Each time he’d been summoned to the City by the Emperor, his adjutant had started preparing cooked meals for him several days before they reached K’oish’ik. It was possible to control one’s aggression with the judicious use of powdered la’quo, but that had always been an inexact way of doing it, and a device known only to the most senior officers. In its various forms, the drug was used in the food and water supply to control the troops. And the females at mating time. No wonder the use of la’quo had been at the least restricted, if not banned, in this time.

  Cooked meat had always tasted flavorless to him so he chewed the chunk briefly, swallowing it as quickly as possible. But the aftertaste it left in his mouth was not as bland as he’d feared. Curious, he chewed the next chunk more slowly, finding it actually enjoyable.

  Turning his attention to the room, he saw it was very simple. A small table stood beside his bed, and off to one side was a doorway which presumably led to the sanitary facilities. The door leading out to the corridor was opposite him.

  The walls were plain and unadorned, save for the one behind him where the monitors for his bed were displayed. As he twisted around to see them properly, he felt the bed resist him slightly, then, as his movements became more persistent, it gave, pulling away from his limbs and allowing him to move freely. When he stopped moving, it closed around him once more. He was impressed. It was a definite improvement on anything they’d had in his time. He especially liked the fact that it was heated.

  Above him, the display panel listed his vital signs and showed their current levels against the norm. His were elevated, but acceptable for a warrior. The writing was still the same, he noted absently, turning back to his meal. With surprise, he saw that he’d eaten everything but the vegetables. When he tried them, he found they were still crisp and had a refreshing flavor. If all his meals were as good as this, maybe there was something to be said for cooked food after all.

  As he put his fork down, he suppressed a yawn, palming his knife under the pillows. Either the food or the drink, or both, had been drugged, but then he’d expected that. He’d have done the same had the positions been reversed.

  Lifting the tray, he placed it onto the unit beside him and lay back. His hunger and his curiosity satisfied for now, he was content to let the drug do its work.

  *

  “Burn it, but he had me scared back there,” said Na’qui as they stopped just outside Kezule’s room. “Weren’t you terrified? I was.”

  “Not really,” Zayshul said, her mind on other matters. She called the lab assistant over. “I see you’re training as a medic. I want you to take General Kezule his meals from now on. If anyone, especially the steward called K’hedduk says they’ll do it, you’re to refuse.”

  Surprised, the lab assistant looked at her. “But that’s steward’s work.”

  “Not this time. I need someone like you to stay with the General while he eats, answering any questions he might have. When do you go off shift?”

  “I’m due off in half an hour.”

  “Good. Come to my lab then and I’ll give you a sleep tape to use. It’ll brief you on what you need to know about his background, the subjects you can and can’t discuss with him. As of now, you’re working with us, and I’ll ensure it counts toward your next grading. Think of it as expanding your clinical observation skills.”

  The lab assistant narrowed her eyes, the rainbow-colored skin around her eye ridges creasing. “Are you still concerned over Doctor Chy’qui’s staff? I thought Commander Q’ozoi had had them all questioned and those loyal to the Adviser were in the brig.”

  “Let’s say I’m being cautious, Khiozh. It is Khiozh, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it is. I’ll be there. But why would anyone want to harm the General?”

  “I didn’t say they did, but he is the last Prime alive who bears any of the true Warrior caste genes, and we need those.”

  A touch on her arm from Na’qui drew her attention. “Our other work,” she reminded her. “The purge should be over by now.”

  “Na’qui, would you…” she began.

  Na’qui sighed. “Yes, I’ll go and edit Kezule’s tape for Khiozh.”

  Zayshul turned to the guards. “Amend your orders to permit
Assistant Khiozh to enter General Kezule’s room,” she said.

  “Yes, Seniormost.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Shola, Zhal-Zhalwae, 23rd day (May)

  GENERAL Raiban exploded out of her office at the Governor’s Palace, yelling for her aide. “Myule! Where the hell are you?” She looked around the deserted corridor, seeing only the Warriors on ceremonial guard duty outside her door. She turned to one of them.

  “Find Commander Rhyaz and bring him to me,” she snarled, spitting the name out like it was a bitter snow berry. “Bring him here. I don’t care what he’s doing, don’t return without him!”

  “Yes, General,” said the Warrior, backing off before turning tail and fleeing down the corridor.

  When he’d gone, still fuming, she stalked back through the small inner office usually occupied by Myule to her own room, slamming the door behind her. She hadn’t missed the guard’s look of panic at being sent to fetch the Brotherhood Warrior Master.

  Where the hell was her damned aide? Surely second meal was over by now? She checked the clock and realized Myule had only been gone for a quarter of an hour. Her hand hovered over her wrist comm, but she decided to let Myule finish her meal in peace. A guard had been sent, he’d find Rhyaz.

  It was another half an hour before she heard a scratching at her door. “Come in,” she called out, knowing from the sound that it wasn’t Rhyaz, or Myule. “Well?” she demanded. “Where is he?”

  The Warrior stood at attention before her desk, eyes averted from her face. “Commander Rhyaz isn’t in the Palace, General. He left.”

  “Left? He can’t have left! He was here an hour ago! What the hell do you mean left? Get him on his personal comm!”

  “I can’t, General,” he said, concentrating his gaze on the wall behind her. “He’s left Shola.”

  “What?”

  “He’s left Shola, General. His personal comm won’t respond at that distance.”