Authors: Lisanne Norman
He tried to speak but his throat was so dry and sore that he began to cough, sending fresh agony lancing through his body. When the coughing ceased, he pushed himself up on his hands until his head and chest were clear of the floor. Reptilian yellow eyes regarded him dispassionately from a pale green face. On his wrist, the Valtegan wore what Kusac recognized as a control bracelet.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered. "Who are you?"
"I am Inquisitor Priest J'koshuk, lately in the service of General M'ezozakk, Planetary Governor to His Imperial Highness, Emperor M'iok'kul,
may His name be revered for all time.
Now I serve the Primes." He indicated the guard standing several feet behind him.
He looked, and the sight made the knot of fear in the pit of his stomach swell. The guard stood like a statue, a pistol trained directly at him. Over the suit of black, nonreflective battle armor was a white tabardlike garment. He looked higher, seeing the almost rippling surface of the faceplate. Nausea welled up inside him and he looked away quickly. Where had the Valtegans gotten these allies from?
"Why am I a prisoner? Where are my companions?"
"I have told you all you need to know. Stand up," J'koshuk ordered.
The pain was beginning to subside at last, and as he slowly pushed himself upright on his still-shaking limbs, he realized just who the priest was. M'ezozakk had been the Governor of Keiss, the Human colony world where Carrie had lived before the Sholans had liberated it from the Valtegans. J'koshuk had been the one responsible for torturing Carrie's twin sister to death in an effort to gain information about the Human resistance movement there. How the hell had they gotten hold of the
Profit
and all aboard her? And what of Carrie, and Kaid— and T'Chebbi? Were they still alive? Carrie must be, despite her injuries, because otherwise— he'd be dead too. Yet he couldn't sense her at all.
Pain gripped him again, felling him to the floor. His nerves already inflamed by the previous punishment, this time it felt a thousand times worse. He lay there, keening his agony, unable to stop because somehow, it helped lessen the pain. Finally it ceased.
"You took too long," said J'koshuk. "Now get up."
Every muscle in his body shrieked its objections as, still hypersensitized, he tried to move. Hands slick with sweat slipped on the tiled floor, unable to gain purchase. He clawed at the gaps between the tiles, finally managing to get a grip and lift his head and shoulders. J'koshuk was reaching for his wrist unit again.
"No! For pity's sake, no more," he gasped, pushing himself up onto his haunches. "I'll never stand if you do it again!"
"Pity?" said J'koshuk, thoughtfully. "An interesting concept. I have none," he said, his voice suddenly cold. He pressed the button, releasing it again almost instantly.
This time, when the brief jolt of energy from the collar surged through his nervous system, his body arched upward and he found himself staggering to his feet.
"See how quickly you learn?" the priest said, turning his back on him. "You'll follow me to your new quarters."
"Wait! Where am I? Tell me what it is you want!"
J'koshuk stopped, looking over his shoulder. "I won't tolerate curiosity in my captives," he said, brow creasing. "I will not be so lenient next time. You have been told all you need to know for now. As for what I want, you'll find out later, when you fully realize how dependent on me you are." With that, the priest gestured to the guard. "Take charge of him."
The guard stirred, then moments later another, wearing only the black armor, entered. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he strode toward Kusac.
His mind seemed to freeze as, swaying slightly, he waited for the guard. It was only when the gloved hand closed round his arm, pressing tightly into his flesh, that his mind began to function again. Powered armor. The Valtegans had had nothing like this on Keiss. What the hell was going on here?
* * *
He was afraid, mortally afraid, but as he was dragged staggering out of the medical area, Kaid's training came back to him, giving him something to focus on other than his fear. With difficulty, he pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on his surroundings. The corridors told him nothing— they could be anywhere— a space station, a ship, or even a building complex on some world. The air was odorless, scrubbed clean by recycling plants.
Then J'koshuk and the white-robed Prime stopped at the open door of a small room, waiting for them. As he was led inside, he saw it contained only a bed and basic sanitary facilities.
The sound of an electronic translator speaking Sholan startled him, and he twisted around in the guard's grasp to stare at J'koshuk and the Prime. As he did, the grip on his arm tightened viciously and he was jerked back.
"I will examine him before leaving you to your work," it said. "I want to check that the drug levels are adequate."
Drugs? What kind of drugs? He didn't feel drugged.
"As you wish," replied the priest.
Abruptly, the guard released him, turning him round before stepping back and unslinging his rifle. He took up a position in front of the still open door.
"Sit," said the Prime, unclipping a small unit from the belt that circled his tabard.
The fear came rushing back despite his efforts to remain calm. The smallness of the room was amplifying it, making him feel even more trapped and powerless.
"I'd prefer to stand," he said.
The next moment, he was staggering backward, his face burning from the force of J'koshuk's slap. Colliding with the side of the bed, he found himself abruptly sitting down.
"When you are given an order, you will obey it instantly," said the priest, his skin darkening with anger as he displayed a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. "You will not speak unless given leave to do so. Do you understand?"
Too shocked by pain and the speed with which the Valtegan had moved to answer, he merely nodded.
J'koshuk's hand lashed out again, to be caught in midair by the Prime. "Later," he said. "I wish to examine him now."
"He didn't answer me," said J'koshuk angrily, pulling his arm free.
"You did not give him leave to do so," the translator said. The Prime reached out to take hold of him by the jaw. "I wish to examine the implant on your neck. You will sit still while I do this."
Involuntarily, his hand went up to pull away the Prime's. As his fingers curled round the gloved wrist, the Prime moved his grip until the thumb and index finger pressed deep into the soft tissue under his jaw, forcing his head up.
"Do not presume to touch me. You are not indispensable. We can get what we want from one of the other members of your crew. You will release me and you will sit still while I examine you, otherwise the priest will use the pain collar again."
He let go, sitting there while the Prime put a small scanning device up to the left side of his neck. At least he'd gotten some information out of the alien. He now knew that they had everyone from the
Profit.
A wave of dizziness swept through him, blurring his vision and making him light-headed. By the time it had passed, the Prime had left and the door was closing, leaving him alone with the priest and guard.
The side of his neck began to itch and he put his hand up to investigate. He was shocked to find a hard, regular—
something
— attached to the flesh just under his left ear. As he probed it carefully with his fingertips, he began to feel sick. Immediately he stopped touching it, the nausea disappeared.
"That's the implant," said J'koshuk, his tone conversational. "The Primes control it, and their drugs control your mind. Already your ability to communicate mentally with other members of your crew is being destroyed. It won't prevent you from trying, but when you do, it will alert the collar. Every time you feel any emotion but fear, it will trigger the collar and my wrist unit.
You know what happens then. Pain."
He tried to take in the enormity of what the Valtegan was saying, but his mind seemed to have shut down again and he could only stare blankly at his tormentor.
"You asked what I wanted from you. It's not what I want, but what the Primes want," J'koshuk said, moving closer. "Information about your people's involvement on the Human world of Keiss. And the female they found in a cryo unit like yours."
That roused him. They'd found Carrie. He prayed she was still in cryo because if she was, then it would be easier for him to face their inevitable deaths. "I'll tell you nothing," he said.
Another blow to his face sent him sprawling sideways across the bed.
"I didn't give you leave to speak. Make no mistake, you'll tell me everything I want to know. Eventually." J'koshuk hissed quietly. "Especially if you want news of your Human female."
As he pushed himself upright again, he realized what was wrong about this whole situation. J'koshuk had known his name. More, he knew about telepaths, and that Carrie was mentally linked to him. How had he found out? Surely none of the others would have told him?
"So she's a telepath too?" The Valtegan's voice was silky quiet.
He looked up sharply, realizing even as he cursed himself that he must have spoken aloud. What kind of drugs were they using on him? "She's nothing to me," he said, bracing himself for the pain he knew would come.
* * *
When it finally stopped, he lay there panting, waiting for the agony to subside.
"You lied to me," he heard the priest say coldly. "I know that she's your mate, that you're linked mentally. You hurt only yourself by lying."
"Then why ask me?" he gasped.
"Why did your people come to Keiss?"
If you're taken, don't try to play the hero,
Kaid had said.
There's no one alive that can't be broken, Kusac. All it takes is time and the right levers. Tell them what you can, what will do us the least damage. That way you might survive long enough to escape. It's a game that you can only win by escaping or dying. Put a few lies in with the truth. Misinformation will help us, but be careful what you say because if you get it too wrong, they'll kill you. They'll know they can't trust your answers, and you'll no longer be of any use to them.
They mustn't find out that Shola hadn't been destroyed, that was what mattered here, not him, not Carrie. Their species' survival was at stake.
"We were off-world when you destroyed our planets. We were looking for more of our kind when we found Keiss," he said. He'd barely stopped speaking before the pain started again.
* * *
He felt disembodied, unable to concentrate on what the priest was saying as his hearing and consciousness kept fading in and out. Gradually he became aware of a throbbing in his face as he felt it being repeatedly slapped in an effort to bring him round. Eventually he found the strength to lift an arm to try and fend off the blows.
"We came to find missing crew," he repeated slowly. "I told you, we didn't know about the Humans."
"How is it that you're able to connect mentally and even breed with them?"
That was easy. "Vartra did it. He made us compatible."
"Vartra? Who is this Vartra?"
"Our God. He did it. A blessing for some, a curse for others, to be Linked to a Human," he mumbled.
"Was he your ruler? Did he die when we destroyed your worlds?"
He began to laugh as he squinted up at the priest. It hurt, but he couldn't help it. Here he was, telling the literal truth, and no one in their right mind could possibly believe him.
"He's dead all right, died over a thousand years ago!"
Pain exploded through his body again, but this time, mercifully, he passed out.
Stronghold, Zhal-S'Asha, 18th day (October)
He came to with a start, looking wildly around the room, needing to touch the table, then the chair on which he sat, before he could believe he was really in the Senior lounge at Stronghold rather than on the
Kz'adul.
A shiver ran through him as he tried to dispel the memories of the pain and humiliation he'd suffered at the hands of J'koshuk.
In a way, he was grateful to the priest for stripping away the last of his illusions. Up until then, he'd led the privileged and protected life of a telepath, been sheltered from the harsher realities. He now knew the only constant in life was pain, everything else was transitory, a break or brief diversion, like his Link with Carrie. While they'd been Leskas, he'd been freed from the debilitating pain ordinary telepaths experienced if they tried to fight— their own and that of those they hurt. That respite had gone, replaced by something worse— the inability to even try to use what remained of his psi abilities without experiencing the agony brought on by the filaments left embedded in his brain by the Primes' implant.
Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face then ran his hands over his ears and through his hair, pulling it back from his face. Episodes like this one had been lessening recently to the point where he'd thought they were finally over: he should have known better. He looked at his wrist comm; barely an hour had passed. It had seemed longer. Dawn was still four hours away.
Resting his arms on the table, he lowered his head to rest on them and closed his eyes. He needed some sleep before he left for the spaceport, but he couldn't sleep, not while Carrie was in labor bearing the cub she and Kaid shared— the cub whose very conception had saved the lives of all three of them.
The mixture of drugs and the neural disruptor in the collar he'd worn on the
Kz'adul
had isolated him completely from his Leska Link with her. She'd not been so lucky. Awakened long before him, the time bomb that was their compulsion to mate every fifth day had been ticking away slowly from the moment they'd brought her out of cryo to operate on the near-fatal wound she'd received on Jalna. Only the fact they'd kept putting her back in a reduced stasis field had enabled her to survive.
As soon as they'd awakened him from cryo, because of their separation, their deaths would have been inevitable had it not been for the fact they were a Triad. Unable to reach him mentally, Carrie's mind had subconsciously found Kaid's and begun to bond with him. He'd been there when time had finally run out. Pairing with him wouldn't have been enough; what had swung the balance was her fertility because of the Primes' removal of her contraceptive implant. He owed his life to this cub, he had to wait till she was born, not least because as her Triad-father, he felt responsible for her.
He remembered when Carrie had given birth to their daughter, Kashini. She'd been so afraid, and in such pain. He remembered it well because he'd shared it through their Leska Link. He should be there now, sharing her pain with Kaid— he needed to be there! Anger and resentment flared as he thought of the message that had arrived at Haven a week ago. Damn them! All he'd wanted from life was to raise cubs with her and run his estate, instead of which, there she was with Kaid doing just that while he was the one heading off alone on a mission that was probably nothing more than an elaborate trap!
The torc around his neck began to vibrate gently, warning him. He clasped his hand to it, forcing himself to take slower breaths and turn his thoughts inward to the litanies, trying not to think of Kaid, the sword-brother who had taught them to him a lifetime ago. Slowly, very slowly, he became calmer and the vibration ceased.