strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  “I’m sure you aren’t, Director,” said Kezule, accepting the glass Q’akuh held out to him.

  “You’re an old-fashioned type, like myself, aren’t you, General?” continued the elderly male. “Things were simpler in your day. You needed ships, you ordered ‘em. None of this bureaucracy with its advisory committees and budget priorities!”

  “Quite so,” murmured Kezule, tongue flicking out, apparently to test the wine before sipping it. He smelled nothing from Zsiyuk, a hint of apprehension from the scientist, and fear from Q’akuh, roughly what he’d expected. “However, we had the revenue from three colonies and at least four slave worlds to play with. A far cry from now.”

  “The golden age of our Empire,” agreed Zsiyuk, taking a sip from his glass of spirits. “We should be working toward reestablishing that Empire, Kezule, don’t you think?”

  “We don’t need the territory from what I’ve seen of your population, Director. Females were larger in our time, the higher castes capable of laying two, occasionally even three eggs a season. Yours manage only one in that time.”

  “Expansion is easy,” said Zhayan. “We breed our own people the way we breed the M’zullians.”

  “I’m aware of that,” said Kezule dryly.

  “Disgraceful business, that,” said Zsiyuk, shaking his head. “No way to treat a member of the royal family like yourself. One could almost call it a betrayal.”

  “I’m none too pleased,” he admitted, taking another sip from his glass.

  “I hear you’ll be training the new officers along with the M’zullian batch. Where’re they going to end up?”

  “The Emperor’s personal guard, of course, then the Palace guard and other posts as the need arises. They’ll be a great improvement over the implant volunteers.”

  Zsiyuk sighed. “I said they’d be squandered, didn’t I?” he said to Zhayan. “What I could do with a hundred Warriors all loyal to me!”

  “Eighty,” Kezule corrected. “Twenty are females for breeding. What would you do with the officers, Zsiyuk?”

  “Use ‘em to mount an offensive against M’zull and J’kirtikk,” he said promptly. “You were on the Kz’adul. I presume you’ve seen its offensive capabilities. We should be launching a preemptive strike against them now, while they’re quiet. We don’t need ground troops, just blast ‘em from space and the air!”

  “The Kz’adul’s a science ship, Zsiyuk, not a warship,” Kezule pointed out.

  “A few weeks in my yards and we can convert her. They’d never even see us coming with our chameleon shields!”

  “Your Emperor thinks otherwise,” said Kezule quietly. “Emperor Q’emgo’h, may his name be revered for all time, valued his Warriors. Through us, he controlled his Empire with claws of steel. Your Emperor is content with his one world and making treaties to keep the others at bay.”

  Zsiyuk lifted his chin a fraction. “Do I detect a hint of criticism of— our Emperor?”

  Kezule shrugged, sipping his drink. “Interpret it how you wish, Zsiyuk. It came as a shock to find I was a member of an extinct caste in this time, and that despite your authorities trying to breed more Warriors, they’ve no intention of utilizing their skills efficiently.”

  “What if you were given that chance, Kezule? Would you take it?”

  “The likelihood of that happening is small.”

  “Would you take it?” insisted Zsiyuk.

  Kezule leaned forward and put his glass back on the table. “You’re asking me to commit treason, Zsiyuk,” he said. “Why should I want to do that? Emperor Cheu’ko’h has been generous to me, welcoming me into his family, giving me a commission that at least utilizes some of my talents. For all I know you could be agents of the Enforcers, testing my loyalty.”

  “We take as many risks approaching you, General,” said Zhayan quietly. “You could report us just as easily.”

  “I didn’t invite this conversation, or this meeting. I’ve no wish to be associated with a small fanatical group of activists who have more ideas than resources.”

  “We’re not without resources, General,” said Zsiyuk. “You want ships, I can give them to you. Zhayan and another colleague of ours can provide medical support, including breeding any number of Warriors to your specifications— we have techniques not used by the City Medical authorities. Believe me, we have resources, including funding.”

  Kezule got to his feet. “I don’t think so. You’ve not convinced me that the risks are worthwhile. There’s still the matter of your Emperor. Even if an unauthorized campaign led by me against M’zull and J’kirtikk was successful, I’d still have gone against the wishes of the Emperor and would face treason charges.”

  “General, we’re not suggesting an unauthorized campaign against our old colonies,” said Zsiyuk. “We’re asking you to head a coup against Emperor Cheu’ko’h. You are in a unique position, General: you’re a blood relative of the last royal family, you have the Emperor’s trust, and you’re training a large number of Warriors who are your own offspring. You can train them to be utterly loyal to you.”

  “You expect me to stage a coup with only ninety-five Warriors? They may be adult in years, but they’ve little experience of the world!”

  “Not just with them. I told you, we have other resources, Workers from outside the City, genetically enhanced to be aggressive. The current Palace guard and the Emperor’s own security people are all implants— they can be disabled within seconds. You’d have no opposition worth considering.”

  “How can they be disabled?” he asked disbelievingly.

  “By remotes,” said Zhayan. “They control the level of various hormones in their systems. Send the right signal and the guards will drop where they stand and remain there till reactivated or until the designated period of unconsciousness has expired.”

  He’d known how the guards were controlled but this was the first he’d heard of how they could be disabled. What bothered him most about their plan was that it could succeed.

  “You’re hesitating, General,” said Zsiyuk, putting down his now empty glass and getting to his feet. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to make your decision in haste. Perhaps it would help if you visited the Directorate headquarters, saw for yourself what we’re doing and the resources you will have at your command. Q’akuh, would you take the General’s jacket, please? Bring him one which will attract less attention when you take him to our medical facility.”

  This was going too fast. Collecting information was one thing, getting into this even deeper was not at all what he had in mind.

  “I don’t think so, Director Zsiyuk,” he said as Q’akuh went over to one of the three interior doors. “I’ve heard enough today to make me prefer to think this over before I get involved any further with you.”

  “Afraid you don’t have a choice, Kezule. Unless you do, your young wife will have a tragic accident when she goes into premature labor in the next few minutes,” said Zsiyuk, clasping his hands behind his back. “Perhaps you’d like to give her a call right now and assure her you’ll be back in a couple of hours when you’ve seen to some urgent business.”

  Kezule stared unblinkingly at him for a moment, then slowly began to unbutton his uniform jacket, keeping his face expressionless. Inside, he was seething. These were not the amateurs he’d assumed them to be. He’d not make that mistake again. While every instinct was telling him to destroy them here and now, he knew that wouldn’t help Zayshul.

  Shola, Nezule Estate, the same day

  He stood beside Kaid on the edge of the parking area, watching Carrie’s aircar landing. Prince Zsurtul had invited her to the meal he was planning for them and she’d surprised him by accepting. It had been at least three weeks since he’d last seen her— he barely remembered her visit when he was ill.

  “Stop worrying,” said Kaid, glancing at him. “She’s only come because it’s an excuse to see you.”

  The aircar door opened, relieving him of the need to find a reply. When Carrie appear
ed, he saw she was carrying Kashini. The cub let out an excited high-pitched mewl as she saw him and started struggling with her mother.

  Automatically, he moved forward to help her but Carrie was already bending down to deposit their daughter on the ground. Stumbling a little, Kashini ran toward him, chattering loudly. Crouching down on one knee, he waited for the small cannonball to reach him.

  “Da-Da!” she shrieked, throwing herself at him and trying to scramble up his leg to wrap her arms around him. “Da-Da! ‘Shini miss you!”

  He scooped her up and stood, holding her tightly as Carrie came over. “She’s talking,” he said lamely.

  “Never stops,” grinned Carrie, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I wanted you to hear her for yourself. I’ve missed you.”

  Kashini squirmed round in his arms and squeaked loudly with pleasure in his ear. “Mama and Da-da both!”

  He winced, flattening that ear as he put an arm around Carrie’s shoulder to draw her close, only to discover her belly got in the way.

  Embarrassed, she would have pulled back but he leaned closer, resting his cheek briefly against hers. “It’s good to see you,” he said, letting his tongue gently flick over her cheek. “How long now?”

  “Only ten weeks,” she said, glancing behind him to Kaid as he let her go.

  “Kaida-da!” Again Kashini started squirming and wriggling, trying to get down. This time, Kusac grabbed her more firmly and turned to Kaid.

  “I think she wants to see you now,” he said, ruffling his daughter’s curls before passing her over. The slight look of panic that crossed Kaid’s face made him smile.

  “Hello, Kashini,” Kaid said. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

  ” ‘Shini come too,” she said, giving him a cuddle which he dutifully returned. “Down now,” she said imperiously.

  “Only if you hold Mama’s hand,” he said, stroking her cheek.

  “No, Da-da’s hand.”

  Kaid bent down to set her on the ground beside her father.

  She reached up, slipping her small hand into his and began tugging him toward the entrance.

  “She knows what she wants,” said Kaid, grinning at them as he greeted Carrie and took her bag.

  “Why did you bring her?” Kusac asked as they walked into the building. “It isn’t really a suitable occasion.”

  “She was missing you so much,” said Carrie, “And, of course, she knew where I was coming. How could I say no?”

  As he glanced down at her, Kashini looked up, amber eyes widening as she smiled happily. His apprehension vanished at his daughter’s obvious pleasure to be with him.

  “I see what you mean,” he said, tightening his hand round Kashini’s. He looked back at Carrie and smiled. “She’ll break hearts one day, just like her mother.”

  Carrie laughed. “I never did anything of the sort!”

  “You’ve two casualties right here,” he said quietly.

  “Flatterer.”

  “Are you sure you can cope with meeting Prince Zsurtul?” he asked as they headed down the corridor to the small common room they’d borrowed for the evening.

  “I’m fine, Kusac. If you can work with him, then I can accept his dinner invitation. I met him on the Profit, it isn’t as if I don’t know him.”

  He let it rest, trying not to remember his own difficulties in learning to work with the Prime Prince. He still wasn’t at ease with him.

  One of the kitchen staff was helping Zsurtul finish setting the dishes out on the table. As soon as they entered, the young Prime shooed him out and came rushing over. He stopped as Kusac picked up Kashini.

  “A hatchling!” he said incredulously.

  “Cub,” corrected Carrie. “Kusac’s and my daughter.”

  Zsurtul looked from one to the other, obviously having great difficulty in reconciling what he saw with the reality of the cub.

  Kashini sat back in his arms, leaning against his chest for security and put her fist into her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the Prince. Over his arm, her short tail began to sway gently.

  Zsurtul reached out a curious hand toward her then stopped, looking anxiously at Kusac. “Is it permitted for me to touch her?”

  All his paternal instincts made him want to step back and say no but he knew he couldn’t. The point of this meal was to build bridges between them. Unable to trust his voice, he forced himself to nod.

  Zsurtul touched her cheek with his fingertips. “Such softness,” he said, awed. As he continued to gently stroke her, Kashini removed her fist from her mouth and grabbed his hand.

  “No, Kashini!” said all three of them as, quick as a flash, the hand went in her mouth.

  Zsurtul’s eyes widened and his own mouth opened soundlessly. Kashini abruptly let go of him. “Teef!” she pronounced, pointing.

  “I’m sorry,” said Carrie, moving forward to take Zsurtul’s hand and examine it. “Did she bite you?”

  Zsurtul shook his head. “No, but her tongue— it scratches!”

  Kashini had lost interest in him now that she’d caught sight of the food on the table and was leaning over perilously to see it. “Hungwy!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Zsurtul, withdrawing his hand gently from Carrie’s. “I forget my manners. Come and sit down. I hope you’ll like the food, it’s a mixture of our dishes and yours so I could be sure there was something you would be comfortable eating. I don’t know that your— cub— will like it though,” he said, forehead creasing in a concerned frown.

  “Don’t worry about that, Zsurtul. I’ve brought her own food with me, but she can try some if she likes. Kashini has her own ideas about everything,” said Carrie wryly, taking her bag back from Kaid.

  The ice broken by Kashini’s presence, the evening went better than he thought it would. He even began to feel a little at ease with the young Prime. For the first time, he saw the person behind the Valtegan shape the Prince wore and realized Zsurtul wasn’t that different from themselves or the other species that currently lived on his estate. However, there was still something about the young Prince that kept him on edge.

  *

  As they were leaving, Zsurtul called them back. “I meant to tell you, Kaid,” he said, “I think I know why you have no problems from our Warriors while General Kezule does.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” asked Kaid, hesitating in the open doorway.

  “Two reasons. One, you’ll be training them differently from the General. We have no records on the Warrior caste, I’m afraid, but given their greater level of aggression in his time, I’m sure they’d not have been allowed the freedoms they have here, and certainly they wouldn’t have had another species taking the training lessons.”

  “That goes without saying,” said Kaid. “We didn’t get any guidelines from your Embassy apart from not allowing them any raw meat.”

  Zsurtul looked a little crestfallen.

  “You did well to work that out for yourself, though,” said Kaid encouragingly. “What was your other reason?”

  “Your scent. The teachers here aren’t afraid of them. The Warriors respond to the fear scent from those of their own rank and above them in authority. You’ve no reason to fear them because you see them as just students. And they see you as knowing far more than you’re teaching them so they don’t feel impelled to try to take your places. The ones who died were all victims of training incidents caused by each other.”

  Kaid nodded thoughtfully. “You might be onto something there. Thank you, Zsurtul. And thanks for a pleasant evening.”

  “The food was lovely,” said Carrie, tucking a small rug inside Kusac’s arms and round the sleeping Kashini. “Thank you. Next time, you’ll be our guest.”

  Zsurtul watched them leave, wondering if he should have disobeyed Doctor Zayshul and told them about the scent marker that Kusac carried. It would explain to the Sholan why he’d felt compelled to attack him in the gym, and why he continued to be uneasy in his company. The marker had changed the Sholan, was making
him react to male Primes as if they were potential male rivals. He sighed. The Doctor was older, more experienced than him; if she said stay quiet for fear of damaging the fragile treaty, then he’d best do as she said. But it struck him as very unfair to Kusac when he was being blamed for an attitude he could do nothing to control.

  Prime world, the same evening

  “General Kezule, a pleasure to meet you properly,” said K’hedduk, standing up. “Welcome to the Directorate Medical Facility. I’m Doctor K’hedduk,”

  “I remember you from the Kz’adul,” said Kezule, staring at him. “You were a steward then.”

  “A steward has far more freedom on board a ship like the Kz’adul than a doctor. I believe you’ve had some of our aims explained to you already?”

  “I don’t appreciate being forced into meeting your people or visiting this facility,” said Kezule coldly, allowing his crest to rise in anger. “Nor do I appreciate the threat to my wife.”

  “Come, General, don’t overdramatize the situation. Please, sit down.” He gestured to the seats around him in the conference room. “It was necessary to ensure you were given a clear picture of who we are. We’ve no wish to harm either Doctor Zayshul or your unborn and unhatched child. Your wife will be a valuable asset to our cause, and one at the heart of the City’s own research establishment. Through her, we’ll be able to access data and samples otherwise denied to us.”

  “I don’t respond to force, K’hedduk,” he hissed. And he didn’t intend that his wife and child would be used as lab samples.

  “But you’re here,” said K’hedduk, sitting down. “Stand if you wish, Kezule. I can call you Kezule, can’t I? What we’re trying to achieve is to restore to our civilization the glory it had at the height of the Empire— your time.”

  His time? In his time the Empire had been so arrogant and sure of itself that a handful of weak Sholan telepaths, unable to strike a blow without folding up retching, had toppled it not to its knees, but flat on its face. It had taken him much soul-searching to realize this, but now that he did, he saw things a lot more clearly.