Fortune's Wheel

by Lisanne Norman

Kusac returned the gesture and, thanking the Mentor and tutors, left.

  "I think we have to agree that there was something more than coincidence at work here," said Rhuso,

  once the door was closed.

  "I agree," said the Mentor. "Suddenly we have a female, a member of a species that doesn't recognize telepathy, Linked to one of our people. Why? Could it be because both of them were rendered temporarily vulnerable to each oth-er's minds by the extreme pain they were both suffering?"

  "It's a reasonable hypothesis and fits what we know so far about them," said Terno.

  "Till now we have believed the Leska Link exists as a form of natural selection, bonding strong Talents together with biological imperatives to breed. So why would one form between these two when they aren't genetically com-patible?" asked Rhuso.

  'This is what I hope the guild on Shola will discover," said the Mentor.

  "Sensing an alien on even a fairly basic level takes sev-eral years of study for those of us who work with

  Alien Re-lations," said Terno pensively, "yet they are both capable of doing it immediately."

  "You forget that we now know Kusac has one of the most powerful Talents on our records," said the Mentor. "He has also spent several years training in Alien Relations. All this makes it more likely that he would have the knowledge and the potential to read alien minds easily."

  "I am also most concerned as to the matter of his lack of inhibition to fight. It's virtually inbred in us as telepaths. Does he now lack this because the girl does? Why should there be the crossover of her Talents to him? This doesn't happen with Sholan Leska Links."

  "What tests can we do to try and chart her abilities, or even Kusac's now?" asked Rhuso. "We have

  more questions than answers."

  "If the guild adapts their basic tests for grading, then at least we can rate her level on our current knowledge. Be-yond that, we will have to see how they react to life. Since the Cataclysm our Talent has enabled us to survive more easily than those who lack it. I expect the same is true of the Terrans, even if they have suffered no such major disaster in their past as we did. Therefore, by seeing how they react to daily situations, we can gauge what they're doing."

  "That assumes one of our people can follow their thought patterns," grunted Terno. "I couldn't read anything from Kusac while he was here. The barrier he had up, though un-sophisticated, was too tight to allow any penetration. If his mind is altering and becoming more like hers, I doubt any of us will be able to follow their thoughts unless they wish it, not even the Clan Lord himself!"

  "Then we do what I recommended. We enlist their help. I believe they will have as great an incentive to wish to un-derstand their Link as we do. That's why I suggested to the Commander that their confinement to quarters be dropped. Without exterior stimulus, there will be no need for them to explore their Talents," said the Mentor. "Continue to keep them under surveillance, and remember who you are dealing with. Use at least three telepaths at any given time and warn them to refrain from communicating with each other. Make sure each has a legitimate reason for being in the area. I can't shake the certainty that there is something at work here that we cannot comprehend, and we must control it. The im-pact on our society of telepaths who can fight could be cat-astrophic. We can't allow the old fears of us to resurface."

  "Vartra knows what this is all in aid of!" said Terno. "I'm just glad that I'm not the Clan Lord or the Guild

  Master!"

  "Perhaps you have the right of it," the Mentor said slowly. "Vartra may be the only one who does know

  the purpose of this Link."

  * * *

  The cold air of the corridor served to waken Kusac and dispel the feelings of unreality but started himshivering once more. Moving as quickly as his injured leg allowed, he headed for the elevator down to his

  level and the sanctuary of his room.

  Once inside, he lowered the lighting to a vague ambiance and turned up the heating. Gradually thewarmth began to seep back into his body. Going over to the dispenser he se-lected a glass of water. Sipping it slowly, he sat down in front of the comm. There were more messages for him. Tear-ing themoff, he tried to scan the list, but his eyes refused to focus properly. Exasperated, he held the paper fartheraway, managing at last to read the names of the callers. No one im-portant. He tossed it aside, letting itslide off the desk and drift to the floor.

  Switching on the comm with its flare of bright screen trig-gered the headache that had been lurkingominously since he woke. He winced, turning the brightness down to the point where he could just seehis text.

  Lifting his glass, he swallowed a little more water. As it hit his stomach, the nausea returned. His handshook as he replaced the glass and closed his eyes. He had to finish the file now. If he left it any longer,he might not be capable of doing so.

  He lifted his head, squinted at the screen, and moved his hands to the keyboard. Claws extended, hebegan tapping in the information, aware as he did so that every joint and mus-cle in his body ached,particularly his hands. Maybe he was coming down with some virus and all these physical symp-toms hadnothing to do with his Link. Possible, but he doubted it. It was more likely due to the stress caused by thesituation he found himself in.

  Another wave of nausea hit him and he stopped, waiting till it had passed. What the hell was he doing tohimself? All this to give her the right to choose when there was no choice to make! He must be mad toget involved with any female, let alone her, to the point where her principles mattered more than his life. Denying a Leska Link would never occur to any Sholan. It happened and you accepted it, with orwithout pleasure. For him it had been easy. Why, in the God's name, couldn't she decide?

  Memories jostled for attention, a flash of them sitting against a tree in the forest, her head on his chestminutes af-ter the Leska Link had formed;'s/he looking at him through the flames of the campfire, realizinghe was not the animal's/he had thought; the smell and taste of blood in his mouth during the fight with

  Guynor; after the Challenge when he explained what he knew of the Link; when's/he reached out totouch the awful wound in his/her shoulder… The images continued, flashing so quickly before his eyesthat he barely saw them.

  Moaning, he put his hands to his head, turning his thoughts inward as desperately he tried to make themstop. Gradually they slowed, finally ceasing, leaving him in a state of total confusion. Lowering his hands,he opened his eyes and looked around. The room appeared unfamiliar. Where was this and why was thecomm on? The hands lying on the desk were covered in black fur. Yes, he was the furred one. As helooked, the fur faded, leaving a lightly tanned bare arm, the fingers tipped with paler nails, not dark claws.

  He leaped to his feet, sending the chair flying backward. Forcing die terror aside, he tried to focus on thehere-and-now, fighting to push the rogue images deep into his subcon-scious where they belonged whilearound him the room appeared to darken, then lighten perceptibly.

  I'm Kusac, I'm in my quarters, he kept repeating as he rested his hands on his desk in an effort toanchor his phys-ical senses.

  The disorientation eased until he knew where and who he was once more. Trembling with theaftereffects, he bent down and retrieved his chair. His head throbbed with the ex-ertion.

  Was Carrie experiencing this, too, and was she coping? At this moment, frankly, he was beyond caring.

  He sat down and continued laboriously to finish recording his data. Fi-nally done, he indexed the file to Vanna's personal comm, date-sealing it to a time three days hence. He'd done more than could berealistically expected of anyone in his circum-stances.

  Closing down the comm, he eyed the glass of water. His mouth was so dry that swallowing hurt. Maybein a minute he thought, his head drooping forward'in exhaustion. He was too tired to stay where he was,too tired to move.

  With a start he came to, realizing that he'd fallen asleep at the desk. Picking up the glass, he staggeredtoward the bed, placing his drink on the unit by the head of the b
ed. Sit-ting down, he undressed, thenprogrammed in an alarm for the following day. He couldn't afford to be late for the court-martial. Reluctantly, he picked up the glass and took a mouthful, waiting for the resulting nausea. He wasn'tdisap-pointed. When it passed, hands slick with sweat, he rolled into the depression in the center and lethimself fall into un-consciousness.

  * * *

  The craft began to emerge from hyperspace on the out-skirts of Keiss' solar system. An observerwatching the quadrant would have seen it waver briefly as it continued its course inbound, skipping in andout of real-time like a stone skimmed across the water.

  The shock waves of its brief emergences were picked up onboard the Khalossa almost immediately.

  "I'm detecting what looks like an incoming craft, sir, but it's disappeared," said the navigator on duty.

  "There it is again!"

  Sub-Commander Kolem looked up from his ops board. "Have you a visual on it?"

  "Not yet, sir. I've never seen anything flick in and out of jump like that before."

  "The craft is signaling to us on our frequency, sir," inter-rupted the communications officer. "It's one of

  ours. Code Three, Nine, Five, Zero, Red."

  "Predict its next point of entry and try to get a fix on it. Relay your board to the main viewer."

  "Relaying now, sir."

  The main viewer lit up showing the outermost planets of Keiss' solar system. In one corner a flickeringimage formed into the outlines of a slim craft. A moment later it flickered and was gone.

  "Got it, sir! Enhanced image replay now on screen."

  The sleekly functional lines of an interstellar to atmo-sphere vehicle filled the center of the screen.

  "By all the Gods," swore Kolem, staring at it, "They've finally done it! A Stealth multipurpose fighter! If we'd had half a dozen of those at the start of this mission, we'd have found Keiss and liberated it sooner, without the need for Vroozoi!"

  "Message being transmitted on our security channel, sir," said communications. "They repeat, Code

  Three, Nine, Five, Zero, Red, and request permission for priority docking in our upper bay."

  "Acknowledge, then relay the message to Commander Raguul," said Kolem, still watching the screen as

  the view switched back to real-time and the unmarked craft re-emerged, this time to stay.

  Commander Raguul's voice rang out through the comm. "Clear the upper docking bay of all personnel

  except those with top security rating. See that the route from there to my office is secure.

  Sub-Commander Kolem, report to the dock-ing bay yourself with Sub-Lieutenant Draz. Raguul out."

  "You heard the Commander, snap to it," said Kolem, get-ting out of his seat. "Page Draz and get him to meet me at the docking bay. The bridge is in your hands, Sub-Commander Rreba," he said, passing the science officer.

  "Sub-Commander! The Cheku is demanding to know what's happening."

  Kolem stopped and turned back to face the bridge crew. With a wide grin he said, "Tell the Cheku thatthe informa-tion they're requesting is highly confidential. We're not at liberty to divulge it to them becausethey lack the security clearance."

  From behind the reinforced viewing screen in the gallery they watched the predatory vehicle movesteadily to the turntable landing pad. It hovered briefly before descending, the high-pitched whine of theengines dying away to almost nothing.

  Bay doors sealed and the small deficit in air pressure made good, the craft's hatch opened as Kolem and

  Draz crossed the metal floor toward it.

  The Captain was dressed in the black fatigues worn by the Warrior Guild when on active duty in space.

  "I'm Sub-Commander Kolem and this is Sub-Lieutenant Draz, head of Security. We'll escort you to our

  Com-mander."

  "Our security needs have been seen to?" the Captain asked, giving a brief nod to each of the two officers.

  "All has been done as you requested," confirmed Draz.

  "Good. Our job was to convey our passenger to you. This we've done. We'll need to refuel before we

  can depart."

  Kolem beckoned to the group of males at the far side of the hanger.

  "They'll see to your needs," he said.

  The Captain acknowledged this with a flick of his ears, then turned to beckon his passenger out.

  From the hatchway emerged a figure heavily concealed by a voluminous cloak and hood of gray. Hishead inclined to-ward them.

  "Welcome aboard the Khalossa" said Sub-Commander Kolem. "If you follow us, we'll take you to

  Commander Raguul."

  As the figure moved silently toward them, vague memo-ries stirred in Kolem's mind. He glanced at Drazwho re-sponded with a minute flick of one ear. Like all senior officers in the Forces, they had served timeat the Warrior Guild. They knew a member of the Brotherhood when they saw one.

  Once a year the Brothers called at the guild to check over the students about to graduate. The cadetsviewed their ar-rival with a mixture of hope and fear. To be singled out to join their elite Warrior forcewas an honor one was never sure one really wanted.

  The journey down to the twenty-first level was made in silence. Their visitor obviously had no wish tocommunicate with them. As they preceded him along the corridor, both were aware of the fur on theirneck and shoulders beginning to rise at his unnatural silence: not even his footfall could be heard. It was

  with relief that they delivered him to the Com-mander's office.

  Commander Raguul's adjutant opened the door. 'Thank you, Sub-Commander Kolem. The Commanderwishes you to return to the bridge," said Myak. "Sub-Lieutenant Draz, would you join us, please?"

  As the door closed, the visitor threw back his hood and, reaching into a pocket, withdrew a crystal cube.

  Walking to the Commander's desk, he handed it over to him.

  "This contains my employer's instructions," he said, his voice notable only in that it had a slight highland

  burr to it. "You are to see mat you facilitate those instructions, Com-mander."

  Raguul regarded the cube, then the person, as his unex-pected guest removed his cloak and threw it overthe back of the chair opposite.

  He wore a tunic of grey over which sat a jacket not unlike the Sholan Forces one, also in gray, bearing ared flash over his right shoulder. From the utility belt hung, among other things, an energy pulse pistol.

  "I don't take kindly to being given orders on my own ship," said Raguul. "You have no business coming here." His ear flicked with annoyance. He knew without reading the cube that the male before him was one of the special op-eratives.

  His visitor sat, face and ears imperturbable. "I suggest you read the orders now," he said.

  Raguul leaned forward and inserted the cube into the viewer, scanning the data it disclosed. He removedit, handing it back across the desk.

  "It seems you are correct," said Raguul, sitting back in his seat again, a slight opening of his mouth showing his faint amusement. "You have arrived at an opportune time, but you'll find the situation somewhat different from what you expected."

  The visitor shrugged. "I was chosen because I am flexi-ble. No problem is insurmountable."

  "Hmm," said Raguul, not convinced. "Since this problem is now out of my hands, I'll leave you with Draz.

  He'll bring you up to date, and should you need any extra personnel, he'll be able to advise you."

  "I'd like the briefing first, then some clothes and accom-modation. I was forced to leave immediately to fit

  in with the Striker's schedule."

  "My adjutant, Myak," Raguul nodded in his direction, "will take your requirements and see they are

  brought to you as soon as possible."

  Raguul leaned forward. "Just remember, Brother," he said, "I am in ultimate command out here. I will bekept informed of what is happening, and I will have no conflict of interests in this matter. It is sensitiveenough."

  "My interests are confined to one area only, Comm
ander. I accepted this mission because of the

  challenge it offered."

  "Oh, you'll find it a challenge, believe me," said Raguul. "Draz, give our guest every cooperation. See he's quartered where he wishes and set up a secure line of communication between the two of you. When his clothing arrives, escort him to his quarters. You can use my outer office for the mo-ment." He rose and eased himself out from behind his desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going back to bed."

  As the door shut behind Draz and their guest, Myak se-lected the appropriate data cubes from the

  Commander's desk.

  Raguul muttered darkly as he crossed to the door at the rear of his office.

  "Pardon, sir?"

  "I said, damned Brotherhood of Vartra! How they can claim to be priestly is beyond me! They give our

  guild a bad name!"

  "They are a fully recognized sub-sect of the Warrior Guild, sir," said Myak. "Their abilities as special

  assault forces are invaluable."

  "I still don't like having him on board. We can handle the situation ourselves." A pained look crossed ula

  face and he pressed his hand to his stomach. "Get me something for my indigestion, Myak."

  "Considering the political implications of the situation, perhaps his presence is a blessing in disguise, sir," said Myak, going to a cupboard on the far side of the room. "At least it's one less problem for you to worry about."

  "You may be right," he muttered. "Did you pick up any-thing from him?"

  "No, sir. His mind is as well disciplined as his body. He gives nothing away," said Myak, returning with a

  glass of white liquid.

  Raguul grunted, accepting his medicine. "We'll see. When does the Cheku leave?"

  "Tomorrow, at the eighth hour, sir, once the system de-fense vehicles arrive."

  "Well, we managed to twist Vroozoi's tail nicely, Myak," he chuckled, handing the glass back to him. "Missing that Valtegan starship has halted his rapid progress, much to the delight of a lot of people in the Forces. I reckon that our of-ficers will be able to dine out on that story for a good few years to come."