Authors: Lisanne Norman
Shola, Zhal-Vartra, 7th day (July)
"PHRATRY Leader," said the caller, hands moving in a gesture of respect. "Before the Camarilla your report was put."
He surveyed the Skepp Lord in the comm monitor. To be called so often by his counterpart was unusual, but then the situation he found himself in was far from ordinary.
"With your findings, the Camarilla agrees," the Skepp Lord continued. "Transcripts of hunter captive show what you were dispatched to locate has indeed been found. In this and the other matter, consequences are graver than anticipated. Further ranging. Greatest fears we all have for outcome."
"No less than mine, Skepp Lord," he murmured. "Projections of future potentialities show we must intervene at this juncture, must give requested aid. No less than us they wish what has become a weapon of terror located. What was decision of Camarilla?"
"Report was accepted. Darkness is outcome if matter compiler is not recovered or destroyed. Danger they may use it again. Balance it continues to upset greatly. Many species at risk, including ourselves."
He watched the Skepp Lord's hands move restlessly, eyes shifting their focus from him to beyond, then back: he was scared, and with good reason.
"What is decided? What to be done?" he asked. "Sand-dwellers obviously run out of necessary consumables. When discover how to replace, will use again."
"A weapon is needed..."
"Another?" His exclamation of shock was made before he could stop it. "For who?"
"Matter compiler not weapon. On dead worlds it creates potential for life. You know this. Sand-dwellers find and misuse to kill organic life on hunters' worlds." The Skepp Lord stilled his hands and stared straight at him. "A weapon is needed," he repeated. "We combine with aid, make hunter the weapon. Interference only justified on that condition. Balance
must
be returned. Your projections show this is only way."
"Surely that draws unwanted attention to us?" he asked, confused by the Camarilla's conclusions. "How we make a being into weapon?"
"Decision has been made. Have done once before to hunter. Already word to children has been sent saying granted their request is. An envoy shortly will you join to implement decision. Your sept's cooperation and skills needed now. Regulator must be made, given to hunter. Details as we talk transmitted are being."
"Why regulator needed? This not our field," he objected. "Living matter is what we manipulate, not devices. Energy your skill, not ours."
"Hunter will take time to learn use regulator. Until then, danger there is as with all weapons. Controls needed. Regulator does this. Access you have to aid you; builders of such devices live where you are. Biological components you will know when to add. Regulator must be used on hunter before aid can be given."
"To work so closely, they will see what we do," he objected. "They will wonder who and what we are."
"Risks must we take." Again, the hands began to move. "We feel it too, the movement of matters, the potentialities flowing, those that could be, those that must not. Vital guiding of the future is to keep balance or succumb to darkness will we all. This hunter is the nucleus, from it grows what will be. You it was that said we must intervene. Doubt yourself now do not, Phratry Leader."
He sighed. "No, Skepp Lord. No doubts have I. I will do as the Camarilla bids."
"Take all precautions," said the Skepp Lord anxiously before ending the transmission.
Shola, Zhal-Vartra, 8th day (July)
It was Midsummer's Day, one of the principal festivals of the year. Preparations at the main Aldatan estate had gone on till late the night before. Carrie had left early, tired out by the blistering heat, accompanied by Dzaka and Kitra who were home for the holiday. T'Chebbi and Kaid had stayed longer, helping secure the huge prefabricated hall where the feast would be held. When they'd finally returned to the villa, they'd remained together.
Too tired to do anything but sleep, they'd awakened early, early enough to enjoy each other while the air was still cool. Now, after their shower, T'Chebbi lay on her stomach, enjoying the feel of the brush against her skin as Kaid groomed her, ridding her naturally long pelt of the loose, dense fur that could make the hot summers so uncomfortable for her.
He stopped, and she felt him checking her injured sides properly.
"They're healing well," he said.
"I've been using Noni's ointment on them," T'Chebbi said lazily, letting her tail search for him then curl round his ankle.
He lifted her hair in one hand then began to brush through its length. "When we were on the
Kz'adul,
I made you a promise," he said quietly, drawing the brush down first one side of her head then the other. "Do you remember?"
"I remember," she said cautiously, her whole body suddenly tensing. Where was he going with this? "What of it?"
"I think it's time we discussed it."
She felt him lean to one side and put the brush down then start to divide her hair. Moving her hand over his, she stopped him. "I want to wear it loose today. What's to talk about?" she asked lightly. "I won't hold you to..."
"Did I say I wanted to change my mind?" he asked, sliding down beside her so they were face to face.
"No, but I assumed..."
"Don't assume," he interrupted, taking hold of her hand. "I asked Vanna for this." He placed something into her palm. "It gives you back your fertility."
Heart pounding against her ribs, she clutched it tightly, searching his face, gauging the set of his ears for clues as to what he really felt. "What're you saying?" she asked. "I don't want a cub because of a promise."
He stroked her cheek. "It's not only to keep a promise," he said. "You're my Companion and I love you. I've seen and felt you with Kashini these last few days. I know you'd like a cub and I want it to be ours."
"Are you feverish?" she asked, trying to cover her confusion. "Something fall on your head yesterday? Carrie know what you're suggesting?"
He let his hand rest on her neck. "Carrie thought it a good idea, if it's what you want," he said. "And no, I'm not feverish, nor did anything fall on my head yesterday." He grinned self-consciously, trying not to look away. "I find myself rather liking the thought of being a father. Ridiculous, isn't it, at my age?"
She gave a derisory snort. "You really asked Vanna for this?" She opened her hand to look at the plain capsule. It wasn't like him to be so open with others about such a private matter.
"It was easier than having had to listen to Rhyasha's lecture on family responsibilities to you and Carrie," he murmured. "You'd be surprised how many people have taken you to their hearts, including me." He leaned forward to flick his tongue across the top of her nose. "If you take the pill and I remove the implant, you'll conceive within the next day and a half. A cub conceived over midsummer is considered specially blessed as it's born in midwinter."
"Gods," she said, pushing him back and sitting up. "You're trying to persuade me!"
"Yes," he said simply, looking up at her. "I know deciding to terminate our last cub was difficult for you, especially since neither of us expected it to happen. It can't be easy for you now with everyone around you pregnant."
It wasn't easy, and fight it as she might, there was still enough of the young female educated as a Consortia by a doting foster father within the hard Brotherhood shell she'd erected around herself to desperately want a cub of her own. Torn two ways, she didn't know what to say.
"Besides," said Kaid, half-closing his eyes and stretching languidly against her. "With you and Carrie both pregnant, I'll get some peace."
She laughed, taking a swipe at his uppermost ear. "You think so?"
He pulled her down beside him, kissing her fiercely. Then, knowing what was in her mind, he took hold of her left forearm, pushing her pelt aside and nipped the tiny bulge just below the surface of her skin.
The unexpected pain was sharp, almost making her jerk free before he released her. She watched as a tiny amount of blood welled from the bite, and with it, a needle-thin rod about an inch long. He took hold of it, gently pulling it free, then placed it on her night table. Picking up the glass of water she kept there, he held it out to her.
"It's time we all lived our own lives, T'Chebbi. There's more to us than just the Brotherhood. We're safe here, and we have the time. Share a cub with me now. I know it's what you want."
She took the glass, and the pill. "Damned telepaths, can't keep anything private from you," she muttered before swallowing it, but there was no rancor in her voice.
the
Couana,
Zhal-S'Asha, 20th day (October)
As he completed the last mental exercise, he felt the final barrier between himself and the memories go down.
Let it play out like images on the entertainment vids,
he'd been told by someone— he couldn't remember who.
Try to be a watcher, not experience it.
He thought of midsummer, how he'd tried to back out of his promise to return home, but Tutor Kha'Qwa had been more determined that he should go. She'd reminded him Stronghold was no place to hide from the world, his responsibilities must be honored or he'd not be allowed to remain. So he'd gone home.
Waiting for the images to form, he pushed the happenings of the last few days deep into his subconscious so they wouldn't intrude and focused totally on the midsummer festival. He realized he'd already faced some of the worst memories and survived them. It began with the music, then as the drumbeats grew louder in his mind's eye, he smelled the scents. It all seemed brighter, clearer than he remembered it as he watched himself weave his way through the crowds of dancing people till he reached the shade of the hall. Everyone had been there, even the U'Churians, and Annuur, the Cabbarran with his sept.
His family were sitting in the usual place, Carrie chatting to Ghyan, their daughter on her knee; Kaid with T'Chebbi. They looked up as he approached. With his new objectivity, he could pick up the signs he'd missed then. Carrie, pleased but wary of him; T'Chebbi's air of distraction as, through Kaid, she felt the changes beginning within her as the tiny cell that was her cub began to grow and divide. And Kaid, alert to his every movement, no matter how slight, as he read him like an open book. He'd looked away, unable to accept the depth of feeling in his sword-brother's eyes. This time he didn't flinch, accepting and acknowledging what had been between them then. He saw his parents, concerned and afraid for the black-robed stranger their son had become.
Then he studied himself, seeing how he resembled a coiled spring waiting to explode. Hindsight clarified one's vision wonderfully, but at the time he'd seen none of this, felt nothing beyond his own wish to be elsewhere.
Ghyan had spent some time chatting to him, but even his old friend hadn't been able to reach through the indifference. Only his daughter had that gift as, unusually for her, she lay curled quietly against his chest, chewing contentedly on her piece of rag, her small fingers twined round his thumb. She brought him a measure of peace he could get nowhere else.
Once more he watched the people he knew come up to greet him, then move away as it grew obvious he had nothing to say. Zashou with Kris, Rezac with Jo, Kitra with Dzaka, Taizia with Meral and their daughter, Khayla. And Davies, sitting with Carrie. He'd wondered if perhaps she might take him as a lover until Vanna's sister Sashti came to take the Human off to dance and they didn't return.
Carrie had neither asked nor assumed anything of him. Now he could see the strain on her face, tell by her scent how difficult that day had been for her. Yet through it all he'd sat isolated, alone within the heart of his birth family and his bond family.
With the remembrance came the beginnings of understanding. Surrounded by his own kind, he'd felt alone for yet another reason. Everything and everyone around him smelled different, not quite right. Alien. Scent had been the key, and until Kezule's message arrived, he'd not realized why he'd felt so isolated, so at war with himself.
* * *
The shock jolted him out of the memories, left him sweating and swearing as he reached for his torc. With fumbling hands, he put it on again.
Tears filled his eyes and he rolled over to bury his face in the bedding, wanting Carrie there, wanting to smell her scent so it drove the memory of the other alien one from his mind forever. She was his first love, the one he'd been prepared to give up everything for— even his life.
A chime sounded at his door. He barely heard it, nor was he aware of the door opening until Banner's hand touched his shoulder.
"Captain," he said softly. "A message from Stronghold."
He sat up, keeping his back to Banner as he scrubbed the tears from his face then held out his hand for the message.
As it was given to him, Banner asked quietly, "Can I help, Kusac? Seven weeks isn't that long..."
"I'm fine," he said tiredly, reading the message. "Our own transport will be waiting for us in a few days." He crumpled the message and handed it back to him. "Destroy this, please."
"It's still night," said Banner. "Khadui can cover for me on the bridge. Why don't you let me deal with this stress of yours?"
He felt the bed move as Banner knelt behind him, felt the other's hands on his shoulders and flinched away from them. Banner persisted.
"Your shoulders and neck are rock hard," he said, moving Kusac's hair aside to probe the juncture of neck and shoulder with his fingers. "You're on duty again in another six hours and from the look of you, you haven't had any rest. You need to sleep, Kusac."
Even the little Banner was doing felt good, he had to admit. And his touch didn't disturb him with flesh-to-flesh messages as once it would have done.
"Lie down," Banner said quietly, sitting back. "Then you can relax fully. I guarantee you'll sleep."
He did, resting his head on his forearms, flicking his tail down to lie between his legs, watching Banner as he spoke to Khadui on his wrist comm.
"Don't you miss Jurrel?" he asked as Banner stripped off his jacket and flung it on the nearby chair.
"Sure, but we've worked on separate missions before," he said. "And he's got Brynne," he added. "They're still occasional lovers."
"That doesn't bother you?" he asked, acutely aware of the hard muscles of Banner's thighs pressing against his hips as the other knelt astride him and began to work on his neck.
"No. We know when we need to be there for each other," Banner replied, a gentle purr of amusement underlying his voice. "That's part of our gift of empathy, and the fact we've been Companions for three years. Stop holding yourself so tightly," he admonished. "This will only hurt if you don't make some effort to relax."
He forced himself to relax his body, finding when he did that he enjoyed the physical contact. It disturbed him, awakening as it did more memories he didn't want to face right then.
"Were you and Jurrel lovers before you became sword-brothers?" he asked abruptly.
"I don't remember," said Banner, working his way across the top of one shoulder. "We worked together, we trusted each other, and one day the need for more was there. It grew with us, Kusac. You have a sword-brother, you should know."
"It was different," he said, hearing the defensiveness in his voice.
"It's different for everyone," said Banner gently, moving his hands to the complex shoulder joints. "Each brings what he's prepared to give to his sword-brother when they take the oath. Maybe they're lovers, maybe not. But if the need is there..." He left the sentence unfinished.
If the need is there...
Kaid had said that too. Memories tried again to rise but were firmly suppressed.
"Stop talking," said Banner. "Use the Litanies and relax your mind as well. Your body is only half of you."
Gradually, he did relax, slipping into a trancelike state where memories could no longer be suppressed.
Stronghold, Zhal-Vartra, 12th day (July)
They were clearing out the lower levels of Stronghold, why, no one was prepared to say officially, but each had his or her own guesses. Kusac found himself working with Dzaou, Maikoi, and Taeo who'd all recently been reassigned to Stronghold.
Black tunics stained with sweat and covered in dust, they approached yet another boarded up doorway, the last in the corridor. Taeo grasped hold of the uppermost plank, placing her foot against the flat of the door, and heaved. Nothing happened. He stepped forward and lent her a hand. The board came off suddenly, catapulting them backward into Dzaou, then Maikoi.
"Watch it," snarled Dzaou, pushing him aside.
"Leave it alone, Dzaou," said Maikoi tiredly, righting himself. "The fault is yours. You shouldn't have been standing right behind them."
Hefting the plank, Kusac looked at Dzaou, eyes glinting in the artificial lights. "Touch me again and you'll regret it," he said quietly before throwing the plank into the trolley cart on the opposite side of the narrow corridor.
"You, too, Kusac," said Maikoi sharply. "This is our last room. After this, we can go upstairs and shower this grime off us."
"It'll be like all the others," grumbled Dzaou. "Empty of everything but dust and crumbling sticks of furniture."
"Get to it, moaner," said Taeo, picking bits of wood out of the fur on her hands. "We did the first plank."
Standing back, he leaned against the wall, grinning and watching.
Angrily, Dzaou grabbed the next plank and wrenched it free, tossing it backward to Maikoi to catch before grasping hold of the door handle. When it failed to move, he began to curse.
"Let me see," said Maikoi, bending down to check the hinges. They were rusted solid. Picking up the lubricant gun, he sprayed both them and the opening mechanism liberally before trying to open it for himself.
The metal screeched, protesting loudly, making them all fold their ears down in distress, but it did open.
Picking up his large flashlight, he stepped forward to shine it in through the open door. This room was different. It was full of ancient pieces of furniture stacked in haphazard piles, not in ordered ranks. The torch glinted off the odd reflective surface, breaking up the beam of light and sending it scattering round the rest of the room.
"Another furniture dump," said Dzaou in disgust from behind him. "It's not worth the effort."
"We're to check every room," said Maikoi, stepping over the threshold.
"We'll find nothing of use in there!"
Following Maikoi inside, he picked his way between a stack of chairs and a table piled with various pieces of bric-a-brac. Spiderwebs, covered in thick dust, were festooned everywhere— between upturned chair legs, across the empty shelves of old bookcases, and when he flicked the beam up to the ceiling, he saw they hung down in long festival-like streamers.
Left briefly in the dark, Maikoi let out an exclamation of disgust and staggered backward into the table, sending a pile of junk crashing noisily to the floor. With a yelp of shock and pain, Maikoi fell over too.
Shining the torch down, he saw him lying amid a cloud of dust and a pile of disintegrating pieces of wood. Leaning forward, he held out his free hand to help Maikoi up. The other grasped it, there was a moment's resistance, then Maikoi came staggering to his feet. Something hit the floor with a small, metallic clatter and began to roll away from them.
"What was that?" he asked, flicking the light in the direction of the noise. He got a glimpse of something bright disappearing under the piles of furniture.
"My sigil," swore Maikoi. "I knew I should have replaced the chain today! Where'd it go?"
"Toward the back of the room," he said.
Maikoi swore again. "We've got to move everything now, not just check it!"
He turned to Taeo, standing silhouetted against the doorway by the light in the corridor outside. "Another flashlight would be useful."
She nodded and disappeared.
Finding a high and stable enough surface on which to put the flashlight took him several minutes, but by the time Taeo returned, he and Maikoi had lifted the table and placed it hard against the opposite wall. The remaining junk on top of it had disintegrated into piles of dust and pieces of wood as soon as they'd tried to lift them. They were discussing what to do with a group of several chests and nightstands when she came in.
"Where's Dzaou?" asked Maikoi as Taeo placed the flashlight with the other one and came to help them.
"Taking the cart back to empty it," Taeo said. "Says the room's too small for more than three of us to work in at the same time. I doubt he'll be back."
Maikoi straightened up and looked at her. "That one's heading for a fall," he said. "He should never have been relocated from Haven. He's not going to adapt to this..."
"I know," said Taeo loudly, drowning out his last words. "He's getting to be a real liability."
Intrigued, he pretended not to be listening in the hope of hearing more, but after exchanging a long look, they bent to their task again.
"Be careful, Taeo," warned Maikoi as she leaned forward to lift a small chest, "most of this stuff is disintegrating the minute we touch it."
For about fifteen minutes, they toiled on, shifting all manner of ancient furnishings. As he and Maikoi hefted a badly corroded metal headboard, Taeo stopped.
"Has it occurred to you that these are the contents of just one office and bedroom?"
As they wedged the frame behind a couple of nightstands, Maikoi looked over at her. "They could be," he conceded. "But why pile them all in here?"
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "They wanted to free up the other rooms? But why not relocate the furniture, or destroy it? Why keep it?"
"It's not been properly stored," said Kusac, leaning against the large table to take a breather. "No dust sheets or packing wrapped round it to protect the surfaces from scratches like they did in the other rooms. It's just been piled in here in any order. And it was left here permanently."
"What exactly are we looking for?" she asked. "I know we were told anything strange or useful, but what's that mean?"
"No idea," said Maikoi, kneeling down to peer along the floor under what was left of the furniture. "Maybe they put it all in here because this is the last room in the corridor. It's solid rock after this. Hand me down a flashlight, please. I think I can see my sigil."
He fetched one, passing it down to him.
"This is what I call unusual," Taeo continued. "The furniture here is ancient, far older than anything I saw the others had found when I went upstairs for the flashlight. And why the sudden interest in searching the old tunnels?"
Maikoi sneezed violently several times and pushed himself back up to his feet. "Not my sigil," he said, eyes watering as he tried to find a part of his arm that wasn't coated with the fine, cloying dust. "You know why," he said, giving up and blinking furiously instead. "Most of us are being deployed up to Haven or Anchorage. Father Lijou wants to make sure nothing of importance is overlooked before we start moving."
"That's rumor talking," said Taeo.
Bored, he'd moved past them to drag away the last few remaining items. A large chest blocked his way and as he knelt to grasp hold of the metal looped handle on the end, he stopped, reaching out a disbelieving hand to touch the carving on the flat top.
This chest remained quite solid under his fingers as he traced the double sunburst symbols. "Maikoi," he said, his voice strained even to his ears. "Call Father Lijou. We've found something odd."
"What?" demanded Taeo, running to his side, followed by Maikoi. She made a sound of disappointment. "It's only a carved chest."
"The symbol," he said, looking up at them, ears flattening in shock. "It's ours, the Aldatans'."
"What's it doing here?" asked Maikoi. "You're a Telepath Clan, not Brotherhood types at all. Pardon me saying," he added.
"One of my ancestors life-bonded with Vartra." He searched his memory for a name. "Zylisha Aldatan. Call Father Lijou." He reached for the hasp.
Taeo reached out to stop him. "You shouldn't. Leave it for the Father."
"Why not?" he countered. "Vartra was my kin. I have more right than anyone to open it." He flicked the rusty hasp back and opened the lid.
Faded purple cloth, now almost brown with age, formed the top layer. With a cautious claw tip, he touched it. When it didn't disintegrate, he reached in with both hands, lifting it out, aware of Maikoi's voice in the background talking to Father Lijou.
Setting it aside, he pulled out the second layer, which had been tightly wedged in around the contents, revealing an object he recognized instantly from his time digging at the ruins on his estate. It was an ancient computing unit, but it was in far better condition than any he'd seen in the lab under the monastery.
More cloth filled the space beside it. Lifting it out, he found a small utilitarian gray box made of an artificial substance used commonly in the time of Vartra. Picking it up, he opened it. Inside lay half a dozen shaped crystals. On the inside of the lid, something had been inscribed.
"What are they?" asked Maikoi, finished now with his call. "Look like data crystals."
"They are," said Kusac, closing the lid and handing him the box. "The first of their kind. Crystal technology wasn't being used before the actual Cataclysm, but we told them we used it."
"
You
told them?" repeated Maikoi incredulously, opening the box for himself.
"He and Kaid went back to Vartra's time, remember?" said Taeo, leaning round Maikoi to watch Kusac. "He found out about the Humans from you, didn't He? That's why you're able to Leska bond with them now."
"Carrie came with us," he said, turning his attention to the computing unit once he'd discovered there was nothing else in the chest but more material for packaging. "She was pregnant, I had to tell him the cub was mine. He took a blood sample from her." He found a small panel on the side of the unit and managed to flip it open. The space inside was the right shape and size to take one of the crystals. Satisfied, he closed it.
"We tried not to tell him about the future, that he'd become a God in our time, but Goran, his chief of security, was suspicious of us, didn't believe what we said about the impact damage the chunk of moon debris would cause. Getting them to leave the estate and come here was more important than any other consideration because we'd found the remains of a firefight between the Valtegans and some of our people at the ruins. We couldn't let it be him. Shola's future depended on Him surviving."
A noise in the corridor outside drew their attention to the door. Dressed in short tunics no less filthy than their own, they saw Father Lijou, Yaszho, and L'Seuli.