Dark Nadir

by Lisanne Norman

  When Kezule finally released the control, Dzaka lay on the camp bed whimpering, his limbs still shaking as he forced his clenched hands to release the collar.

  “Will you take me? If not, I will continue to hurt him.” Doing this was distasteful to him. The young male’s tenacity was worthy of his respect, and inflicting pain on him in this fashion was not honorable, but he had no option. He had to make them agree to this.

  The male reached out once more to touch his mate. He wasn’t going to give in easily. So be it. Since long bursts were not enough, he’d try several short ones. He wanted this over quickly. By the time he’d administered the third, Dzaka had fallen to the floor and lay curled in a ball of agony, making a low, mewling sound.

  Kitra was distraught. “Yes!” she shrieked, turning a tear-streaked face to him. “Yes! Anything! Just leave him alone, damn you!”

  “You swear you’ll both take me back to where and when I want?” he demanded, hand still poised over the bracelet.

  “Yes,” she sobbed, “We’ll do it. We’ll take your drug and do our best to send you back!”

  On her mat of sleeping bags, the child was also screaming and sobbing. He regretted having to let her see this happen, but it was his life and the future of his species on Shola that was at stake. “Silence the child,” he said.

  Getting up, he put the stool away and went to fetch the la’quo mixture. Taking three of the disposable cups he’d found in the room, he carefully poured an equal measure of the thick, bright green liquid into each. Picking up two of them, he went back to the adults.

  The male was now beginning to sit up, wiping his face with a shaking hand. As Kitra returned from settling the child, Kezule handed the mixture to her first. Almost snatching it from him, she drank it down.

  “Take it all,” he said. Going round the other side of the camp bed, he reached down with his free hand to help Dzaka to his feet.

  “I regret causing you pain,” he said, guiding him onto the bed. “You’re a warrior. Were the positions reversed, you’d do the same to me.”

  Dzaka said nothing, merely accepted the cup without looking at him, drank the contents down and returned it.

  “I will remove the collar now,” said Kezule, reaching the fingers of his left hand inside the metal band. He let his claw tips find the slight indentations that marked the release mechanism and pressed. It came free in his hand. There was blood ringing Dzaka’s neck where he’d cut himself on it while trying to pull it off.

  “What do we do now?” asked Kitra in a very quiet voice as he took the now empty cup from her.

  “Give me your wrist unit, then lie down. Look up at the ceiling of this cavern and imagine another like it,” he said. Taking it from her, he walked back to place the collar and the wrist comm on the workbench and take off his own unit.

  Picking up the last cup, he drank his own dose. “But there is a hole in the roof through which the sun shines down onto a stone altar directly below it. The walls are covered in murals of my people.” He picked up the last of the sleeping bags and flung it down at the end of the workbench. Sitting down on it, he leaned back against the bench.

  The drug took only a few minutes to work, then he felt himself becoming relaxed and slightly light-headed. He watched the two Sholans, seeing the female’s eyes begin to droop. The male would take a little longer because he was still in pain.

  “Think of the cavern roof with the hole in the center,” he said, his voice low. “Sunlight is falling through it.”

  * * *

  Kitra lay there, heart pounding as she felt the alien substance rushing from her stomach through her body. It had been vile to swallow; thick and almost viscous, it had oozed its way down her throat. She shuddered, feeling every hair on her pelt starting to rise. They hurt and prickled against her tabard, making her acutely uncomfortable. She could hear a pounding in her ears that grew louder and louder. Terrified, she glanced at Dzaka.

  He lay on his side, hand reaching out for hers. She took it gratefully, feeling the sharpness of his claws as his fingers closed tightly over hers. His palm felt hard and leathery against her now sensitive pelt, quite different from the feel of his soft fingertips. Her senses began to swim and she gasped for air, feeling the coolness of it hurting her nose and lungs.

  She felt sick as the room began to fade and swirl alternately before her eyes, and in a panic, she reached mentally for Dzaka, clutching his hand even more tightly.

  “Think of the cavern roof with the hole in the center, sunlight falling through it,” she heard Kezule repeat from a few feet away.

  No, you mustn’t! The thought filled her mind. It’ll be the end of all of us!

  She felt herself drifting, being gently pulled away from him.

  Kitra! Stay here!

  Panic in the thoughts this time, but they were growing fainter as she seemed to float toward a brightness. His hand felt as if it was slipping away from her as she was drawn toward the glowing warmth. She was aware of Dzaka, and of Kezule, but they felt remote. A memory nudged her. They were supposed to be with her, not left behind.

  Reaching mentally for them, she touched their minds as the first searing heat of the flames touched her. Shock jolted her from the lassitude, making her scream in agony. She tried to retreat, but one mind held her firm.

  Go through it! It is the way back, she heard Kezule say.

  It burns me! she wailed, pushing back. Energy suddenly surged through her, giving her the strength to resist the pull of the flames and Kezule. Once more she could feel Dzaka’s hand holding hers, his claws pricking painfully into her flesh.

  Backlash him, Kitra! A new thought, a new presence, intruded into her mind. Send the power through him.

  How? I’ve never done anything like this before!

  Gather the power within you, youngling, then throw it like the balls of energy you practiced with at your Guild. It’s just the same. Trust me. The result will please you.

  Conflicting energies swirled round her, trying to drag her toward the flames, trying to drive her away. Trusting the inner voice, she grasped them all, pulling them into herself, feeling Dzaka suddenly there with her as she sent them hurling toward the mind that was Kezule.

  Flames erupted, the blast sending her flying back until she found herself lying sobbing in Dzaka’s arms.

  He was covering her face in kisses and tiny licks, frantic with relief that she was safe. You did it, Gods you did it, Kitra! You managed to keep him here! He’s unconscious now, we’re safe!

  His thoughts were an almost incoherent jumble. It was difficult to make sense of them because images began to flash through her mind, images of Dzaka as a cub on the Arrazo estate in the Clan nursery, then being taken by a strange female out into the cold and left beside a gate to be found by two young males in dark robes.

  Whimpering in confusion, she held him close, clutching his sides, breathing in his scent as he lowered himself onto her, whispering words of love in her ear.

  Faster and faster the images came until they reached the present. Then they began to slow, finally stopping, leaving their minds and bodies Linked together as one.

  But. . . How? Kitra sent, looking up at him as he stroked her hair back behind her ears.

  Dzaka hadn’t time to form an answer before a muffled explosion vibrated through the lab, sending pieces of rock falling from the ceiling overhead. Flattening Kitra under him, he prayed Kashini was safe. As the fall subsided to a rain of dust, he heard the steel door grating open a few inches. Looking up, he saw Garras squeezing through the gap.

  “Well done!” the older male said, coming toward them, then stopped dead as he saw their compromising situation. He turned hurriedly to the gap, but already the door was being pushed aside. “Wait a moment, Master Konis,” he said.

  As Kitra shut her eyes, groaning in embarrassment, Dzaka sat up and reached for a blanket from the other bed, hauling it partially over them. He’d felt his pelt rising at the mention of her father’s name. The Gods Themse
lves had joined them as one. This time, no one would stop him from making Kitra his life-mate.

  Still poised astride her, he crouched down on all fours, looking up at the Clan Lord. All the anger he couldn’t show before came to the surface now. “She’s mine, Konis,” he snarled. “My Leska, my life-mate. Neither you nor your Council will stop us marrying now!”

  Konis stayed where he was, aware he was facing a dangerously enraged young male. “Thank the Gods,” he said, the relief evident in his voice. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear you say that! Take her with my blessing, Dzaka.”

  Garras, meanwhile, had headed for Kezule. Finding him unconscious, he turned and picked up Kashini, who was crying lustily by this time.

  Puzzled, Dzaka sat back on the bed while Kitra tried desperately to cover herself with the blanket. Belatedly, he helped her as Garras headed back to Konis with the cub.

  Not Mother, too! I’m going to die of embarrassment! sent Kitra.

  Blocking the doorway, Garras eyed Dzaka. “We need to get Kezule out,” he said, trying not to grin. “If you don’t mind.”

  Almost in shock, Dzaka just sat there till Garras came over and threw him another blanket.

  “Take Kitra home to the villa, Dzaka,” he said, grasping the young male by the shoulder affectionately. “The two of you have done very well indeed. Thanks to you we’ve gotten Kezule in plenty of time.”

  “In time for what?”

  “Your father and Carrie have turned up safe. I’ll come over later and tell you everything. For now, just go home with your Leska, Dzaka.”

  Konis had disappeared with Kashini, and now several Brothers stood in the room, waiting for Garras’ instructions. He jerked his head in the direction of the unconscious Valtegan as Dzaka pulled the blanket round himself and got up off the camp bed.

  “Who helped us?” asked Dzaka as he bent to help Kitra.

  A strange look crossed Garras’ face. “I’m not that religious, but if you asked Master Konis, I know he’d say Vartra. Whoever it was, he told your father it was safe to blow the door open, Kitra,” he said.

  “He said if I trusted him . . .” began Kitra, then stopped. “He knew it would Link us.”

  “I’m glad it did,” replied Dzaka, pulling one arm free of the blanket and putting it around her as they walked to the door.

  “Mother will definitely want a temple wedding,” Kitra grumbled. “So much fuss and bother this will cause.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, hand tightening on her shoulder. “She can have a temple wedding at Stronghold if she wishes!”

  “She can? We can? That sounds like fun,” she said, grinning up at him as they went out into the main chamber.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Kezule’s cryo unit loaded in the Touiban sick bay, the Couana left Shola for Haven. Keeza accompanied Brynne on the basis that when they arrived at Haven and resuscitated Kezule, should he come out of the comalike state he was in, a face he at least recognized was advisable. Jurrel and Banner were helping Captain Shaayiyisis crew the private craft, and planning to give Brynne some on-the-job training.

  * * *

  Day 40

  After breakfasting in the mess, Zayshul had headed up to the royal suite. Under the pretext of carrying out routine health checks, she’d been able to exchange a few words with Prince Zsurtul’s mistress.

  “No, he didn’t have any medical experiment in mind,” M’ikkule said. “He was merely observing for his father. There was this huge argument between the Emperor and his counselors, you see. He wants this treaty with the Sholans, but one of them advised him against it. He overruled them, of course, but that’s why Chy’qui came along. He’s determined to be here when Emperor Cheu’ko’h is proved wrong.”

  A major split between the Emperor and his advisers over the Sholan treaty? This sounded reason enough for Chy’qui to be interfering with a Sholan captive.

  “That’s why Prince Zsurtul kept coming down to the medical research area?”

  “Yes. Besides, he was curious about the aliens. He’d have gotten us in to meet them if he could, but he said Chy’qui kept them isolated. You should know that, though. You were there.” A suspicious tone crept into M’ikkule’s voice as she watched Zayshul fiddling with her scanner keys. “Why are you so curious about what the Prince was doing?”

  “Only on a professional level,” she said hurriedly, picking up the female’s own reader pad to transfer her data to it. “One of those we took from the M’zullian vessel wasn’t implanted. Their priest, J’koshuk. I wondered if the Prince had heard why, that’s all. The M’zullian caused quite a bit of trouble among our unexpected guests.”

  “Prince Zsurtul told us.” She pulled a face. “He only goes to prove that we’re better off without the warrior genes on K’oish’ik. The Prince said he feared Chy’qui wanted to find out the nature of the Sholans’ telepathy and had been doing dreadful experiments on the male they found floating in space.” She shuddered. “That’s why he pushed for releasing them early with the treaty, rather than going to their home world.”

  “Prince Zsurtul was behind their release?” That surprised her, and explained why he’d joined her when she went to tell their guests they were to be released. The data now transferred, she’d given up any pretense of making idle conversation.

  “Of course. He supports his father, naturally.” M’ikkule held out her hand for the reader, making a small noise of annoyance when Zayshul failed to notice.

  “Sorry,” she said, handing it to her. “You’re lacking some vitamins and minerals in your diet. I’ve listed some foods and the daily quantities you need to take to bring the levels back up to normal.”

  “If that’s all?” M’ikkule asked politely, getting to her feet. “I’ve things to see to before the Prince returns.” She hesitated as Zayshul rose. “You do think they’ll give him safely back, don’t you? What Chy’qui did to them won’t affect the way they treat him, will it?”

  “I hope not,” Zayshul said with feeling. “M’ikkule, would you be willing to tell Commander Q’ozoi this?”

  A horrified look crossed her face. “I absolutely refuse to get involved! I have to live in the Court in the City of Light. You’ve no idea what it can be like with all the infighting and arguments. No one in their right mind falls foul of Chy’qui, believe me! If you’ve any sense, you’ll not ask any more questions about him.”

  Thoughtfully, she made her way back down to her office. She’d have to be very careful indeed if Chy’qui wasn’t to find out what she was doing. From the sound of it, he wasn’t the kind of person to leave a provable trail. She needed information that probably only existed in the doctor’s own personal secure files. This was beyond her now. She needed help.

  Intrigue of one sort or another was a way of life on a ship like this. She had someone in mind to help her, but it would be better if she didn’t go openly to him. Looking at the clock, she realized it was almost past lunchtime. If she hurried, she might catch him in the mess.

  * * *

  Disconsolately, she picked at her salad. She’d missed Kesh. Now she’d have to wait for him to come off duty in the evening and try to meet up with him inconspicuously in the recreation area. Was she being overly cautious, she wondered? Even if she was, breaking into private files was not her skill, it was Kesh’s. He said he did it for amusement, to keep his hand in. Whatever the reason, she was thankful he did right now. It was only two days till they reached their destination, and she wanted to know exactly what Chy’qui had been up to before they arrived.

  * * *

  J’koshuk woke in his own room. He remembered something of the aftermath of his visit to the Human female, but not much. There’d been pain, and he’d been taken to the medical area, but beyond that, nothing. Glancing at the clock, he saw from the date that had been nine days ago.

  Dread filled him, and getting up, he went to the cleansing area. He stopped at the mirror when he saw his reflection. Putting a shaking hand to his head
, he touched the edge of the implant. Nausea welled up inside him and, hurriedly, he removed his hand. The sensation subsided, leaving him shaking.

  Unsteadily, he headed for the lounge and something to drink. He gulped the herbal brew, feeling better as its warmth spread through him. Now he felt more able to consider the situation rationally. Putting the cup down, he sat back in his seat. He had an implant. He didn’t feel different in any way, it didn’t affect the way he thought, so what had been lost—or achieved for that matter—by implanting him? He’d no idea right now, but he’d watch and see during the next few days.

  Round his neck, the metal collar vibrated, warning him that he was needed, that someone would be coming for him. Hurriedly he got to his feet and went to the food unit, reading quickly down the varied menu, choosing a light meal of eggs and three varieties of vegetables. He picked his plate up, turning away from the unit and shoveling the food into his mouth. It was good. He made a mental note to remember the name of the meal for another time.

  The door opened as he swallowed the last mouthful. A Valtegan in gray fatigues, flanked by an armored guard, stood there.

  “I’m Doctor Chy’qui,” he said. “A Prime Seniormost. You’ve been my patient, J’koshuk, but now you’re well again. I’ve come to give you your new duties.”

  “Yes, Seniormost,” he said, standing up.

  “The crew of the M’ijikk, as you know, have been relocated within the Kz’adul for several weeks. It’s time you were also given your permanent posting. I need an assistant to help me carry out health checks on them from time to time. When I do this, you will accompany me. Today is such an occasion.” He held out a small numeric pad mounted on a wrist attachment. “Put this on and follow me.”