Between Darkness and Light (68 page)

“Maybe you're not now,” she conceded, unpacking the blanket and replacing his with it, making sure that it was touching as much of his body as possible. “No, Zayshul won't suffer.” She then draped his own over the top to hide Zayshul's scent from the other Primes. “Now try to sleep,” she ordered, leaning down to stroke his cheek gently before pulling out her communicator.

 

By the time he'd been transferred to a floater, the nausea had mercifully receded and so had the spasms. Cocooned in the scent of Zayshul's blanket, he was only vaguely aware of the sound of Kezule's and Banner's concerned voices. Ghidd'ah was telling them not to worry, he'd only picked up some minor local fever, but was being quarantined in the sick bay until he'd recovered.

At first, he tossed and turned in a delirious haze of half-formed images and sensations that remained just beyond his ability to decipher. Then, as his temperature lowered in response to the drugs and the cooling properties of the almost living, formfitting Prime bed, and Zayshul's blanket, the fever dreams began at last to make some sense.

 

“I did lock the door,” he mumbled in surprise, realizing that the day he and Zayshul had paired in the data room, he had reached out mentally and operated the locking mechanism.

“Excuse me?” asked Ghidd'ah, sitting at his side monitoring him, but he had already drifted into sleep.

 

Ghidd'ah pushed Kezule and Banner firmly out of the sick bay into the corridor. “I will not have you raising your voices in my infirmary,” she said sternly, closing the door behind her.

“What's wrong with him?” demanded Kezule.

“I told you both, he's picked up a local fever, nothing more.”

“That's not just a fever,” said Banner. “Not when he's throwing up like that.”

“You didn't tell me that,” said Kezule accusingly. “Have you tested him for poison, or bites? That M'zayash female took him off alone for a good quarter of an hour!”

“It's not poison, General,” began Ghidd'ah.

“Dammit! I can't have him falling ill like this! I need him and his expertise to finish interviewing these volunteers!” He was having visions of his carefully laid plans suddenly collapsing.

“He's in no fit state to leave his bed,” interrupted Banner.

“M'kou can handle it. Have you run diagnostic tests on him, Ghidd'ah?”

“Of course I have! I'm not an amateur, Lieutenant,” she said stiffly. “He has contracted a local virus, that's all. Some form of gastric fever, nothing more. You've seen him for yourself. Unpleasant, but not dangerous.”

“I need him up and functioning,” insisted Kezule, reaching out for the door mechanism.

“No,” said Ghidd'ah, moving to block him. “He's not leaving here. Do you want this virus spreading throughout the whole ship?”

“She's right,” said Banner. “He's better in isolation. We could end up being stranded here for up to a week. I can help M'kou.”

Kezule glanced at him. “What do you know about Alien Relations?”

“Not a lot, but I've been a recruiter for the Brotherhood and worked in the Alliance for over twenty years. I can certainly help screen your colonists.”

The General glowered at him, obviously hesitating.

Banner sighed. “I may not be as committed to this cause of yours as the Captain, but I will carry out his orders.”

Reluctantly Kezule nodded. “What did their Elder want from him last night?” he asked abruptly, turning away from the sick bay.

“Kusac said she only wanted to know if we were a sovereign species or still your vassals.”

“He had no right to go off with her like that.”

“He didn't exactly have a choice, General,” muttered Banner as they walked down the corridor. “I don't believe he welcomed her attention either. Do you think these new colonists will be willing to interbreed with your people? There seem to be a lot of families among them.”

Kezule pushed his concerns aside with difficulty. “They'll integrate. The families all have at least one, if not two youngsters almost at sexual maturity. We're gaining many more colonists with them than with the single volunteers.”

“There is that,” agreed Banner. “And more youngsters to bring up in your military traditions, of course.”

Kezule stopped dead and turned on Banner. “Are you Sholans born suspicious?” he demanded. “Have you seen any signs of coercion on Kij'ik? Do I force my people to join my small military group? Of course I want everyone to be trained to defend themselves and this Outpost in an emergency, but that's a far cry from maintaining a military base! Even I'm aware the majority of my colonists are born and bred civilians!”

“You can't blame us for being suspicious, General,” said Banner, his tone carefully neutral. “No matter what the Captain chooses to believe, we're here under duress.”

“Ask your Captain if he wants to leave,” hissed Kezule, losing patience with him. “All of you have been free to return to Haven since the day you arrived!”

“We can't leave Shaidan.”

“In a few weeks, you won't have to!” he said angrily. “The more efficiently you do the job, the quicker you can all leave!”

“So you intend to keep your word this time?”

Kezule's hand snaked out and grasped Banner by the shoulder. Seeing the brief flicker of pain in the Sholan Lieutenant's eyes, with an effort, he flexed his fingers, making sure his claws no longer dug into his flesh.

“I intend to keep my word, Lieutenant,” he said. “You keep yours. M'kou is in the cargo hold getting ready to interview the final twenty possible colonists. Join him there, and have your crew report to M'zynal to help him stow the luggage belonging to those coming with us.”

 

Thoughtfully, Banner watched the General stalk off before taking his Prime comm unit from his pocket to call M'kou. At least on the
N'zishok
they weren't plagued by the intermittent comms blackouts—a very few of which, he admitted to himself with a slight grin, he'd caused.

 

They'd completed ten of the interviews by the time a group of Ch'almuthians came with a midday meal for everyone.

Tables used for checking off the trade goods were hastily cleared and chairs augmented by suitably sized crates. Banner made a point of sitting with M'kou and M'zynal, signaling Khadui to continue keeping an eye on Dzaou who was being unusually amenable.

The food was a variety of slices of cut meats and cheeses, accompanied by large bowls of salads tossed with a variety of unusual dressings.

“A nice change in food,” Banner said, forking the meat onto his plate.

“Very,” agreed M'kou, helping himself to salad. “We've been given twenty flightless fowl to take back to provide fresh eggs and meat.”

“They'll make an interesting addition to maneuvers in the fields,” said Banner, grinning. “Trying to get quietly past them will be a Challenge in itself!”

“Indeed,” said M'zynal with a pained look. “Messy creatures too—all those feathers and droppings spread all through the corridors of the ship . . .”

Banner laughed. “The joys of farming, M'zynal!” He munched his food for a few minutes, washing it down with a glass of chilled fresh fruit juice.

“So what do you make of this closer working relationship between our commanders?” he asked M'kou, putting the widemouthed glass down.

M'kou glanced at his brother, but he was concentrating on his food. “I think it's good,” he said, folding several slices of meat with his fork and knife. “I like the life we have at Kij'ik, compared to what we had on K'oish'ik—though now I've seen Ch'almuth, perhaps I'd prefer to live on a planet one day. But I like the more relaxed way of life—unlike the ceremony the City of Light has. I enjoy dealing with people, sorting ordinary everyday matters for them.” He glanced up at Banner. “Soldiers don't have to fight, Lieutenant. I prefer to protect our community by peaceful means.”

“Peace has to be guarded vigilantly,” murmured M'kou. “Fought for, if necessary, when negotiations fail.”

“Agreed,” said Banner, “but . . .”

“Lieutenant, our people now are not that dissimilar,” interrupted M'kou. “We,” he indicated M'zynal with his fork. “We are not the same as our father, Kezule. We were also programmed with a Prime background as we developed. We weren't given his descendants' racial hatred of your species. The only way for us to survive in this time
is
to follow his lead and breed ourselves back to what we once were, breed out the hate and paranoia of the M'zullians and the J'kirtikkians. Then we will not be the threat to the Alliance that you fear us to be. So yes, I approve of the understanding that's flourishing now between our commanders.”

“What about M'zull and J'kirtikk?” he countered. “They're a threat to everyone. This world, and the Prime one, are ripe for their picking!”

“Emperor Cheu'koh is going to contact them on the Alliance's behalf. That was the plan, wasn't it?”

“And if they don't agree to a nonaggression treaty, what then?”

“Then it is even more important that our colony succeeds, Lieutenant,” said M'kou softly, picking up his juice and taking a sip.

Banner leaned toward the young aide. “Why? What do you know that we don't?”

“Nothing, but the General was one of the top field tacticians of his time. You need him, and us, as your allies,” said M'kou. “He could exert dominance over those two worlds by virtue of his birthright alone.”

“This conversation is unsettling the Ch'almuthians,” said M'zynal. “Continue it later, if you must, in private.”

“We've ten people left to interview,” said M'kou, his loaded fork held in midair just short of his mouth. “So far, it seems our volunteers have been screened pretty effectively by their own people. We should be finished in another three or four hours, don't you think, Banner?”

“Yes, at tops. When does the General plan to leave?”

“As soon as the last people and their belongings are on board. M'zynal told me the cargo is almost fully loaded,” he said, glancing at his brother for a confirmatory nod. “The General is finalizing trade agreements with the Elders now.”