Between Darkness and Light (124 page)

“He's ambitious,” said M'kou. “And certainly has tactical skills, given we thought we'd destroyed his power base on K'oish'ik only four or five months ago. If he has enough support on M'zull, they could overturn their Emperor and at a stroke, those two worlds would be allied. Since the destruction of J'kirtikk, only one more world remains—Ch'almuth—and the M'zullians have been raiding it for breeding stock for generations.”

“Whoever sits on the Throne of Light rules that Empire,” said Kezule. “K'hedduk must be removed. Without him, they can't re-form the Empire. M'zull would never accept Zsurtul as their Emperor.”

“Would Ch'almuth?”

“No. They govern themselves,” said Kezule. “Let's study this map.”

“Hello, Captain. Welcome back.”

“Uhhnn,” he said, blinking as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He felt decidedly light-headed and groggy. Someone—a female from her scent—helped him sit up, taking his right hand and wrapping it around a bowl of water.

“Don't try to use your telepathic abilities. You're wearing a damping collar,” another voice warned as, with the first one's help, he drank thirstily.

The water helped clear his head and as the empty bowl was lowered, he began to get his bearings. He was in the sick bay. Zhalmo sat at the end of his bed, and Ghidd'ah had been helping him.

“How do you feel?” she asked, putting the bowl on the night table then moving pillows behind him to prop him up. “Any pain from your leg? There shouldn't be, I gave you an analgesic shot about an hour ago.”

They'd already said too much for him to take in. He picked what seemed most urgent.

“Welcome back?” he croaked, swallowing convulsively; his throat felt gritty and dry despite the water.

Ghidd'ah perched on the side of his bed, facing him. “You've been unconscious for five days since your punishment,” she said gently, reaching out to pat his hand where it lay on top of the covers. “How do you feel?”

Five days! He reached up to push his hair back from his face—and found it had been braided out of the way. His belly began to rumble audibly, making the females smile.

“Hungry,” he whispered.

Zhalmo got up and fetched a tray from the chair that stood opposite the end of his bed.

“You do need to eat,” she said, going around the other side of the bed to put it on his lap. “You used up a lot of body mass when you were healing.”

Body mass? Healing? Ignoring the food, he looked from one to the other.

“Look at your arm, Kusac,” said Zhalmo.

He did, shocked to see that his skin hung loose and his pelt was dull and unkempt.

“The food's high protein. Eat it, you'll soon regain that weight,” said Ghidd'ah, pushing a bowl of something creamy-looking at him.

His stomach rumbled again. Automatically he picked up the spoon and pushed it into the food. Lifting it to his mouth proved to be more difficult. His hand shook so much Ghidd'ah had to take it from him before it spilled.

“Let me help,” she said, gesturing to Zhalmo to leave.

She waited till they were alone before she lifted the spoon toward his mouth. Frustrated, his ears flicked back flat against his head as he turned it aside; he didn't want to be fed like some helpless invalid.

“You must eat, Captain,” she said gently. “You've been very ill. We thought we were going to lose you.”

He looked back at her in shock. Wisps of memory were beginning to come back. She took advantage of his disorientation to spoon the food between his partly opened lips. He swallowed automatically. It was cold but very soothing as it slid down his roughened throat.

“How long?” he asked slowly.

“How long what?” She raised the spoon again.

Grasping her wrist, he stopped her. “Was I dead.”

Startled, she began to stammer.

“How long?” he repeated hoarsely.

“About three minutes,” she said.

He relaxed, letting her hand go. Not long enough to do any damage.

“I didn't think you'd remember,” she said, offering him the spoon.

He opened his mouth, taking the food, knowing no answer was necessary.

“Shaidan's been in to see you every day,” she said, obviously trying to make conversation. “He was very worried about you.”

Shaidan was fine, he realized, aware that he could sense his cub's presence at the edges of his mind. Mechanically, he ate the food that was offered to him. When it was done, and she brought him more water, he attempted to raise both hands to take the bowl from her. She stopped him, holding his left hand down on the bed.

“We had to put you on a drip,” she said soothingly. “Just accept my help for now. You'll soon be strong enough to do it yourself.”

He drank. The food had certainly helped. Though still utterly exhausted, he felt less light-headed now, and his mind was beginning to function properly. Time to check his wounds.

“My leg. I need to see it,” he said, struggling to reach across himself and pull the cover back.

“It's fine, you're healing nicely,” said Ghidd'ah, trying to prevent him. “Leave it till tomorrow.”

He locked eyes with her. “Now,” he said firmly.

She hesitated and he reinforced his demand by sending a subliminal mental command. Sighing, she got up, taking the tray away before returning and carefully pulling the cover back, exposing his injured leg.

The overall swelling was dramatically reduced, and when she lifted the loose dressing, the upper wound looked healthy—far too healthy given the time that had passed even though there was still an area in the center of the bright red new growth that was discharging a brownish ichor. His mind froze, unable to make sense of what he was seeing.

“While you were in the coma, you were healing very rapidly,” said Ghidd'ah, breaking the silence as she replaced the dressing, then the bed cover. “The exit wound is almost closed too.”

He didn't resist when she urged him to lie back against the pillows. Something began to nag at the edges of his mind, like a jegget scratching at the earth, trying to dig a hole.

“I'll let you get some sleep now,” she said, turning to leave. “Call me if you need anything, I'll be just outside.”

“Wait,” he said, lifting his head. He knew he needed to finish the healing as soon as possible, even if he had no idea why. “My medical kit. Need something from it.”

Obviously reluctant, she opened her mouth to refuse but he forestalled her. “Individual needs—vitamins—must take them.” Again he reinforced the request mentally, this time less subtly because of his exhaustion.

He watched her frown briefly, then her face cleared and she nodded. “I'll fetch them for you now.”

His head felt like it was being pressed in a vise as he lay back to wait for her. Something hard dug into his collarbone and he reached up to ease it away. A psi damping collar? The rest of his memories began to return, slowly at first, including the way Vartra had goaded him into turning the collar off. He shied away from that, as he did from any thoughts of how he'd managed to heal himself so quickly. Time enough to go over that when he was well.

 

Left alone with his medikit, he'd pulled out the pack of Fastheal capsules and the one of vitamins and minerals he'd also need, when his nose alerted him to the arrival of Giyarishis. Fumbling to conceal his drugs, he managed to send the medikit sliding off the bed onto the floor just as the door opened.

Giyarishis stopped, lowering his head to look at the kit, then raising it, the lenses spinning, to look at him.

Swearing under his breath, he tried to conceal the medication in a fold in the covers as the TeLaxaudin, draperies gently moving, began to stalk toward him. Stopping by the fallen medikit, Giyarishis picked it up, placing it on the bed at his side.

One slim hand snaked out toward his immobilized arm, plucking the two packs of capsules free.

Kusac snarled and, claws extended, swiped at the small alien, but it was a half-hearted attempt and missed him.

“Give them to me,” he hissed, levering himself up in an effort to increase his reach.

“What these?” demanded Giyarishis, examining the packaging. “Treating yourself not allowed!”

“Supplements I need,” he said, trying to stifle the burst of coughing that followed as he lunged for them.

Giyarishis moved slightly to one side to avoid him, then as Kusac's upper body began to overbalance, reached out and pushed him backward. “Still unwell. Resting is needed,” he said, handing him one pack before reaching for the filled drinking bowl that had been left on the night table.

Eyeing him balefully, Kusac tore open the pack of vitamins with the help of his teeth, taking a tablet out and dropping the others onto the bed before reaching for the drinking bowl.

The TeLaxaudin steadied it for him as he sipped the water and took the pill.

Finished, he held his hand out. “The other pack,” he whispered, annoyed at his weakness.

“What is Fastheal?”

“What it says,” Kusac replied shortly, gesturing impatiently. Talking hurt his throat right now.

“Your wounds are healing faster than usual. This why?”

He was too tired for this. “You my jailer now?” he rasped. “Just give me it. Need to be healed.”

“Yes, you do, but not harm self doing!”

“Keep it then!” he snarled, lying back on the pillows and closing his eyes.

There was silence for several minutes. “What else you need?” he heard the TeLaxaudin ask eventually.

He turned to look at him, cracking open his eyes again. “Feeding, while I sleep.”

Giyarishis' mandibles clicked and his humming grew deeper. “This not harm you?”

He flicked his ears in a negative, then remembered and shook his head tiredly. “Not if I'm fed.”

“How long?”

He began to calculate the dose needed to double his rate of healing, then remembered he'd already been doing that. If he could combine his newfound abilities with the Fastheal ... “Three days—but they must feed me. They didn't before.”

“I see is done,” he said, handing over the second package. “Sedatives you need?”

“No,” he said, ripping the pack open and taking out three capsules before the TeLaxaudin changed his mind. Leaning over the night table, he reached for the water. He'd barely the strength to lift even the half empty bowl. Putting all three pills in his mouth, he gulped the water down, almost choking on them, then collapsed back on the bed.

He could feel them hurting his throat as, solid as a hard lump of stone, they slowly passed down to his stomach. At last the sensation stopped and he was able to relax. He needed to reach again for the healing place within him, let himself fall into a deep trance again so the drug could work properly.

As he began to drift, it wasn't into the usual darkness. He seemed to be surrounded by a kind of twilight filled with the sound of faint murmuring. The barely conscious part of his mind might tell him that it was only because of the lights in the sick bay, but he wasn't completely convinced and strained his ears to make sense of the sounds even as he fell deeper and deeper into his trance.

 

The monitor's alarm had only just ceased when Zayshul came running through the doorway to Kusac's side.

“What's happened?” she demanded of Ghidd'ah as she ran physical checks on him, matching her findings with those on the monitor above his bed.

“Ask him,” said her friend, gesturing at the chair where the TeLaxaudin perched. “He says he gave Kusac some drugs from his medikit. Something called Fastheal, and some vitamin supplements. Says he's going to sleep for three days and we've got to feed him.”

Satisfied he was in no immediate danger, she turned on the small alien. “You had no right to authorize any treatment for him,” she said furiously. “He's my patient!”

“General not allow you here, how you treat?” the translator said. “He trained, carries own medication. Had when I arrived.”

“How did he get the medikit?” she demanded.

“I brought it,” said Ghidd'ah quietly.

“You did?” she asked, turning back to her friend. “But why?”

“He asked me,” she said, looking as confused as Zayshul. “I really don't know why I agreed to fetch it, but I did.”

“Knows what he doing,” said Giyarishis, getting down from the chair. “You fix catheters and cannulas, feed him, clean him. He sleeps, heals. Need strong, must cooperate with General very soon.”