strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide with terror.

  Lyand took her by the arm and drew her onward. “However, Commander Rhyaz couldn’t do that, Djana. You’re his Leska. If you die, so does he. It’s the nature of your Link. You have to realize we’re a military Order, we depend on discipline. It isn’t like ignoring a teacher at school or in your guild. Your age is irrelevant, we have juniors younger than you who don’t break half the rules you trample every day.”

  “But they grew up at Stronghold,” she said, tears starting in her eyes. “I haven’t! I’ve been thrown in and been expected to pick it all up from thin air!”

  He stopped at the door to her quarters. “That’s not true, Djana. Commander Rhyaz doesn’t expect from you what he expects from the rest of us. All he wants is that you do what you’re asked.” He took his pass card from his pocket and inserted it in the lock, standing back for her to enter.

  “My advice is if the Commander told you to do anything while you’re in here, do it, and do it well. That’s all that will impress him. Good day, Djana.”

  *

  “What do I do with her, Lyand?” Rhyaz asked when his aide came back. “I take it you talked to her on the way to our quarters? I don’t want to frighten her too much. She’s quite capable of trying to run off. Look at how close to Shola she got when she and Kai decided to leave Earth.”

  “She’s very resourceful. I have a suggestion, something that came up as we talked, sir.”

  “What?”

  “She’s no idea of what’s expected of an ordinary junior. Why don’t you twin her with one of the ones here of her own age for the next three days? Let her see how much hard work it really is, and how little’s being asked of her in comparison. It’s difficult for her, sir. She’s halfway between a life-mate and a colleague. If you’ll excuse me saying, neither of you know where she belongs.”

  Rhyaz ignored the implication and eyed him thoughtfully. “It might work. Set it up for me, Lyand. Would it be better if the junior was attached to you?”

  “There’s a lot to be done here, Commander. Yes, the help would be worthwhile.”

  “If you run out of tasks, I’m sure you can invent some,” sighed Rhyaz.

  Anchorage, Zhal-Nylam, 4th day (September)

  “We’ve almost got it right, Lijou,” said Rhyaz to his colleague back at Stronghold. “We lost two of the prisoners, unfortunately, but have hopes that the modifications we’re doing today will solve the problem.”

  “What will you do with the survivors?” asked Lijou.

  “They’ll be kept here for questioning. Our scientists would like to find a way to target their inherited memories, see if we can find something to neutralize their fear of us. If we could sit down and talk to them like we can the Primes, it would be a start.”

  Lijou sighed. “I can say nothing useful, Rhyaz. You know my opinions. How is Alex doing?”

  It was Rhyaz’ turn to sigh. “Don’t ask. She’s working off a punishment detail. I’ve got her twinned with a junior her own age running errands for Lyand and anyone else who needs them. I have to say, she’s sticking with it, doing what she’s been asked to do quickly and politely.”

  “We have Kusac back. The TeLaxaudin came up with a cure for him, but unfortunately there were side effects. He’s come here for help from me and Noni.”

  “What side effects? Nothing dangerous I hope.”

  “A memory problem that has to be resolved before he can use his Talent properly. We can manage between us, I’m sure.”

  “Keep me posted. I’ll call you tomorrow, let you know how the experiment went. Until then, Lijou.”

  “Till tomorrow.”

  Prime world, Zhal-Nylam, 5th day (September)

  Shaking with exhaustion and hunger, Director Zsiyuk stumbled out of the abandoned warehouse into the street, blinking in the bright sunlight. Clinging to the doorframe, he looked around frantically. The street was a cul-de-sac, and deserted. The buildings surrounding him looked as ancient and unused as the one he’d been held in. He had to get back to the safety of the Court! His kidnappers could come back at any time, might be watching him even now!

  He didn’t recognize this part of the City, but then what reason would he have to come to such a run-down area? Pushing himself away from the support of the wall, he staggered down the street toward the exit.

  A foul smell began to fill the air, getting stronger as he neared the opening. Now he could recognize it! Manure— the smell of mammal dung. And the greeny gold ahead of him wasn’t the grassed area he’d thought it to be, it was fields. He was in the southeast agricultural area on the outskirts of the City!

  His corpulent frame wasn’t geared toward endurance and by the time he reached the entrance to the City proper, he was soaked in sweat and barely able to stand. A public grav floater came by, and he hailed it, shouting and gesticulating until it pulled to a halt to wait for him.

  Face flushed almost black, he hauled open the door and collapsed into the vehicle.

  “Office of Naval Architecture,” he wheezed, ignoring the driver’s exclamation of disgust at the smell that surrounded him. “And fast!”

  “I don’t carry farm laborers,” said the driver, turning round to look at him, his nostrils flaring several times in disgust. “Get out and walk. I’m not having you stinking out my vehicle!”

  “Do I look like a farm laborer?” demanded Zsiyuk angrily, wiping his forehead on his jacket sleeve. “Get moving at once!”

  “Now look, I don’t know who you think you are,” he began.

  “Obviously,” hissed Zsiyuk, digging in a pocket till he found his ID card. “Here! Take me to my offices! I’ve just escaped a gang of kidnappers! My life’s in danger the longer I stay here!”

  “I’m not getting involved in any of that! Get out, right now!”

  Zsiyuk sighed. “There’s a reward in it for you,” he said, slumping back against the seat, grateful for its softness. “What day is it?” he demanded.

  “It better be enough to pay for cleaning your stench out of my vehicle,” the driver muttered, turning back and starting the engine. “Today’s the 5th.”

  “I’ll pay your damned cleaning bills!”

  *

  Fifteen minutes later, he was being fussed over by his secretaries and aide as he attempted to call the Office of Science.

  He swiped the ministering hands away and ordered them out as he waited for his communicator to connect him to Zhayan’s office.

  “What do you want, Zsiyuk? I’m rather busy right now.”

  Zsiyuk frowned. “Is that one of the Palace guards I see behind you?”

  “Yes, it is. What do you want? I told you I’m busy.”

  “I was kidnapped, Zhayan,” he said. “Snatched by armed people as I left my office three days ago!”

  “Were you? Then you were fortunate to escape. Ghoddoh wasn’t so lucky, but I expect you know all about that.”

  Noticing the note of sarcasm in the other’s voice for the first time, he narrowed his eyes, staring again at the guard behind him. “What’s going on, Zhayan? Why wasn’t Ghoddoh lucky?”

  “You know well enough what happened to Ghoddoh! He was found slumped dead at his desk in the Palace yesterday morning, and a letter intended for me exploded shortly after it was delivered yesterday afternoon.”

  “Good God! What about Schoudu?”

  “Don’t bother pretending you don’t know anything about it, Zsiyuk, you’re not that good at dissembling. Your absence these last three days has been very convenient.”

  “Someone’s targeting us, aren’t they? Who’s behind it? What happened to Schoudu?”

  “Have it your way, then. You usually do,” hissed Zhayan. “Schoudu’s in hospital recovering from his injuries. His grav floater was attacked by armed people last night.”

  “Hospital?” That stunned him. “I’m not behind this, Zhayan. I’m a victim myself!”

  “You’re the only one unhurt. Like I said, you were nowhere
to be found while the rest of us were being attacked. I call that very convenient. That’s why I asked for a bodyguard. You won’t get me, Zsiyuk.”

  The line went dead. He sat and looked at the blank screen for several minutes, mind working overtime as he tried to work out his best course of action.

  Directorate headquarters, the same day

  Zsiyuk found K’hedduk in his office at the end of the corridor. He was packing papers into a large briefcase. He looked up, frowning as he entered.

  “Zsiyuk! What’re you doing here? It’s past midnight.”

  “Looking for you, K’hedduk. Seems like I found you just in time,” he said angrily. “What’s going on? Ghoddoh’s dead, Schoudu’s in hospital, Zhayan’s gotten a Palace guard assigned to him as protection after a bomb wrecked his front office, and I’ve just escaped from kidnappers!”

  “Nothing to do with me, Zsiyuk,” said K’hedduk, closing and locking his case. “I’m just leaving. I suggest you do the same.”

  “For where?” demanded Zsiyuk, placing his bulk in front of the other. “I want answers, dammit! Zhayan thinks I’m responsible for this!”

  A muffled explosion shook the room, making the door rattle and the loose objects on the desk move. It was immediately followed by another, fainter one.

  “I really do suggest that you leave,” said K’hedduk, picking up his case and moving round the other side of his desk.

  “What’s happening?” demanded Zsiyuk. “What was that noise?”

  “Someone attacking us, I suspect,” he said, taking advantage of Zsiyuk’s shock to walk unheeded to the door. “The same someone who kidnapped you and shot at the others.”

  Zsiyuk paled, then came suddenly to life as his innate instinct for survival cut in. “Where’s the nearest exit?” he demanded, following K’hedduk.

  “The explosion came from this end so I suggest the elevator,” he said, checking the corridor.

  *

  As the elevator doors began to open, M’kou lobbed a grenade out then plastered himself to the wall like the others, turning his head aside. It detonated instantly. When the doors opened fully, Kezule sprayed the area outside with a burst of energy from his auto rifle. A brief scream from behind the nurse’s desk confirmed he’d got her.

  “Guards down,” confirmed M’kou.

  “Cover me,” ordered Kezule, diving out and vaulting over the desk opposite.

  Perfunctorily, he checked the nurse while glancing across at the two supine guards. From their injuries, he doubted they’d be a problem. She was dead. One less to worry about. M’kou was already checking the guards. Two of the M’zullians were hammering wedges round the elevator’s doors and between it and the floor, jamming it in position. A third planted a charge on an inner wall.

  “Dead,” came the quiet confirmation.

  He stepped over the nurse’s body and moved cautiously to the corner of the reception area, peering carefully down the corridor. It was empty. Briefly he wondered where the guard on the hybrids’ room was. He gestured the rest of the unit out.

  “Clear each room then destroy it,” said Kezule. “Treat any Primes moving in a zone of fire as a potential enemy. I want the Sholan captives alive. Move out.”

  Zhalmo gestured the first team toward the door on the left, the other on the right. Cautiously they moved into the corridor, two covering as the third tried the door, then they were in. They’d no sooner disappeared from sight than from farther down the corridor, three guards dived out, one hitting the floor and firing at them while the other two dashed for the room opposite.

  Three bolts of energy hit the guard as Zhalmo, M’kou, and one of the M’zullians fired on him simultaneously. A scream of pain and it was over. He saw Zhalmo murmuring in her link, warning the others.

  The two in the ward doorway began sporadic fire, attempting to halt their advance. Kezule pulled a stun grenade and lobbed it down in their direction. It detonated, but moments later the shooting resumed.

  Zhalmo motioned the M’zullian with the grenade launcher forward, directing him to the opposite wall. Covering fire lit up the corridor as the youth dodged his way down, ducking into the doorways until he reached an optimum position and stopped to fire. The grenade shot out, shattering the transparent wall.

  “There go the Primes,” murmured M’kou.

  “Less to worry about,” said Kezule, watching as the wall exploded outward in a shower of fragments.

  Two teams rushed past them, heading for the devastated room and the mess area opposite as the soldier with the launcher fell back.

  Zhalmo led the rest into the corridor. Kezule and M’kou began to follow. At the far end, two figures emerged from a room, one with his hands in the air. Zsiyuk.

  “Don’t shoot!” he called out. “We’re unarmed!”

  Kezule could feel those around him relax slightly and opened his mouth. As he did, Zsiyuk stumbled, half turned to look in shock behind him; then a shot rang out and the second figure dodged into the exit.

  The M’zullian in front of him cried out and dropped to the ground. Instantly the corridor lit up again as five energy weapons took Zsiyuk out.

  “Burn it!” snarled Kezule, angry that they’d let themselves be fooled. “Check every room! We take no prisoners! Only the Sholans have value!”

  “Mess and ward rooms are clear,” said Zhalmo in a subdued voice as their Warriors reappeared. “No survivors.”

  “There’s at least one guard in the room with the hybrids,” he said. “I’m going in first. I want those cubs alive!” He gestured to M’kou and his team. “You’re with me. Clear the rooms opposite,” he ordered his own two M’zullians.

  He waited until he had the all clear. “Cover us, Zhalmo,” he said, and began to edge forward. There was no time for subtlety. He pulled his pistol and shot the lock open, gesturing them to force the door.

  It gave under the rain of kicks, slamming inward to bounce back off the wall. M’kou caught it, holding it open. A quick glance told him the room was empty. Fanning out, they ran in, taking up defensive positions behind the furniture. Kezule kicked the chairs on his side of the table aside, and toppled it on its edge before ducking behind it.

  “Surrender now and your life will be spared,” Kezule called out.

  “I’ve hostages here. You try to get in, I’ll kill them one at a time,” came the reply.

  “Gas gun,” suggested M’kou’s voice in his earpiece. “We’re wearing plugs. Interior walls are thin enough.”

  He raised his hand in agreement. A firefight risked all the cubs, this way, only one, two at most, would be sacrificed, maybe even none. “Aim high,” he whispered. “I don’t make deals,” he said loudly. “Surrender.”

  The shot rang out, the pellet punching a neat hole in the wall. There was an exclamation of shock then the sound of coughing, followed by a single shot.

  “Move!” hissed Kezule, diving over the table and heading for the door.

  Through the faint mist of the gas, he could see one child lying on the floor, a dark-pelted one. The others had scattered, cowering behind their beds. The guard, backing up to the far wall, was coughing violently. Gun waving aimlessly, he held a child in front of him by the neck as a body shield— another dark-furred one.

  Kezule hesitated briefly. Which was the one he wanted? This, or the one already lying in a pool of blood? With gas in the room, he couldn’t risk tasting the air to be sure.

  The guard had reached a pocket of clean air and was recovering slightly, his gun now moving toward the cub.

  As Kezule fired, so did the guard. The child yowled, a high-pitched sound of terror that stopped abruptly as he hit the floor and the guard fell on top of him. He was there in an instant, the dead Prime sent flying aside as he examined the child for signs of life.

  M’kou was at his side moments later, his emergency aid kit already out. “Let me, sir,” he said.

  Kezule got up, checking to see the children were being rounded up before going over to the one lying b
leeding.

  “That one’s dead, sir,” said M’kou, glancing at him. “This one is seriously injured.”

  He knelt down to turn the small body over, and sighed with relief. It was dark, but dark brown, not black.

  “I want that one kept alive, M’kou,” he said, getting up. “What’s the extent of his injuries?”

  “Minor energy burn to the shoulder, and one, maybe two broken ribs. He’s bleeding from the mouth and having breathing problems— punctured lung, I think. That guard was heavy. He needs more than trauma treatment. How’re we going to get him up to the ship?”

  “Stasis units,” he said, remembering what K’hedduk had said about the adult Sholans. “They have stasis units.”

  “That would stabilize him till we reach the N’zishok,” agreed M’kou. “But how do we get a stasis unit on board?”

  “General, we’ve got the other three children,” said the M’zullian.

  “Three? There should be five including this one! Find the missing one!” he hissed.

  “There’s another one dead. We think the gas pellet hit it on the back of the head as it rebounded.”

  Kezule hissed angrily. Two dead and one on the verge of death were not good results. “Get them to the exit,” he said. He toggled his comm. “Zhalmo, call the shuttle and get it to pick us up here. Tell them we’re bringing a stasis unit. M’kou, can you move this cub into the other room? The gas can’t be helping him any. I want the bodies of the dead ones completely destroyed. Incinerated to ash,” he ordered the M’zullian.

  Carefully M’kou picked up the limp body and headed for the other room.

  By the time Kezule joined Zhalmo, the area had been secured.

  “We’ve two adult Sholans in cages in a lab area,” said Zhalmo, her face taking on a look of distaste. “The male’s in a bad way, General, not likely to survive if we move him.”

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Not us,” she said. “We found him like that. He’s burning up with a fever, got sores on his body that have gone septic too. I’d say they’ve been conducting experiments on him. He’s got a device implanted on his neck, and another on his skull. Shaved his head to do it. Not a pretty sight. We left them where they were till I could speak to you about them.”