Shades of Gray (26 page)

“You have them imprisoned?”

“We don’t know who’s loyal to you. Until we can sort them out, I’m not prepared to take chances on any sabotage. They’re only confined to the recreation room and the lower living level—they have adequate food and water available.”

“I see,” said Zsurtul, obviously relieved. “I’ll speak to them, of course.”

“You handle it, M’kou,” said Kusac quietly, getting to his feet. “I’ve one or two things I need to see to. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Need any help?” asked Banner, preparing to get up.

“No, you can’t help me with this,” he said. “I’m going next door to the sick bay for peace and quiet to do a little work, that’s all.”

He picked up Banner’s instant concern and stopped beside him on his way out. “I’m fine. I want you to see everyone gets a chance for a quick meal break now. Zsurtul’s end will take an hour at least, as he said. If you like, you can bring me something to eat in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Banner nodded.

 

Putting his helmet on the medic’s desk, he sat down and began taking off his armored gloves. Already he’d begun mentally reciting the Litany for Relaxation. He wanted to see if he could make contact with the Sholan hostages on the Prime world below. Before they began the main mission, it made sense to find out if they were still alive and to glean any information he could from them, especially their location. And avoid talking to Kaid, he admitted to himself. Part of him was dreading that meeting because he knew Carrie would be there too.

An oval paperweight carved to look like a curled beast drew his attention. Closer inspection showed the creature was some form of reptile, sinuous, scaled, with four legs and a tail that, as he turned the object around, looked to be almost as long at the body. The gaping mouth had an impressive array of teeth. Cast in some yellow alloy, it was indeed a work of art. It most closely resembled the small lizards found in old brick or stone work in the summer on his estate. Turning it over in his hand, idly he wondered how large the original was and if it even still existed on the world below. Kezule had said something about the civil war fifteen hundred years ago having caused the extinction of many native animals as the starving population ate anything that moved.

He turned his mind inward, relaxing completely before reaching out for the two captive Brothers. As far as he knew, he’d never met them, but among so many Prime minds, theirs should stand out.

Lowering his mental shields, slowly, he allowed himself to sense the minds below. Despite his care, the sudden burst of noise was deafening, making him clench his hands in real pain. The sound of their thoughts hissed and spat and crackled through his mind like white noise from a radio receiver.

Automatically his barriers went up, cutting off the contacts. He’d allowed his search to be too general. Trying again, he narrowed the mental bandwidth to one he knew Sholan thoughts operated within, then widened it a fraction.

The noise was still intense but less so than before. Old Human sayings about needles in haystacks came to mind, but he pushed his random thoughts aside and concentrated on finding two or three sparks in the morass of sound that were indisputably Sholan.

A flicker there—different from the others. He latched onto it, discarding the rest, narrowing his search to its band alone.

 

Shamgar stumbled, holding onto the chair in their narrow cell for balance. As he straightened up, he stiffened, ears flattening to his skull.

“What’s up?” asked Vayan. “Stubbed your toe?”

“No, I’m . . . being spoken to,” he said almost inaudibly.

“Stop clowning around, Shamgar,” said Vayan. “I’m not in the mood for a dose of your humor right now.”

Shamgar didn’t reply. Instead he made his way, slightly stiff legged, toward their tiny window and looked out into the courtyard beyond.

“Gun turrets at positions 1 hour, 14 hours, 17 hours, and 22 hours,” he said, his voice sounding flat and expressionless

“Shamgar!” his friend hissed, sitting up on his bed. “This isn’t amusing! It’s downright weird!”

“Yes,” said Shamgar before collapsing in an unconscious heap on the cell floor.

 

With a shudder, Kusac withdrew from the unconscious Brother and slumped back exhausted in the chair. He hadn’t intended to be so rough with Shamgar, but it had taken a great deal of mental energy to reach him, and there hadn’t been much left for subtlety. He’d need the food Banner was bringing to boost his energy levels again.

A tap on the door and M’kou entered, carrying three bowls of maush on a tray.

“I thought I’d join you,” the Prime youth said coming over to the desk. “Banner is getting us food. J’korrash is on comm duty now.” He set the tray down and handed Kusac his drink before grabbing a nearby chair.

Kusac accepted it gratefully, realizing he was still holding the paperweight in his hand. “What kind of beast is this, M’kou?” he asked, passing it over to him.

M’kou examined it for a moment. “I really can’t tell, Captain. It’s too badly damaged.” His voice had a flat quality about it that was unusual for him.

“Very amusing. So what is it?” he asked, taking a sip of the drink.

“I’m not making a joke, Captain,” he said, passing it back to him. “See for yourself.”

The metal appeared to have been melted, become pliable, malleable to the point where it had been squashed in someone’s hand—his. On one side, clear as day, were the imprints of his fingers, complete with claw tips.

Startled, he glanced up at M’kou.

“You did the same to a chair in the briefing room on Kij’ik,” said the other carefully. “My guess, from what remains visible of the beast, is that it’s a norrta, a burrowing lizard that exists on the surface of our world.”

The door began to open and without a second thought, Kusac stuffed it into a small compartment on his left thigh armor.

“I’ll help Banner,” said M’kou, jumping up, obviously relieved not to have to discuss it further.

Two hours later, their shuttle attached to the exterior of the large Prime ship, they were waiting on their side of the air lock.

“Rifles on stun,” Kusac ordered, pulling up the deck plans, “except for those enhanced thugs. Shoot to kill them outright. No point in taking chances. Remember there are collaborators on board. Anyone suspicious, stun them. We can sort it out later. M’kou, open the air lock.”

Inside, the
Kz’adul
was quiet, the lighting so subdued it was almost on emergency power.

“Looks like our side’s plan is on course,” said Tirak quietly to him as they emerged. “Hope they’ve made sure to lock all the doors on our route.”

“I’m sure they have,” said Kusac.

Keeping close to the walls on either side, they made their way carefully down the deserted corridor to the first access hatch they needed. Shikku had arranged for an altercation to happen in one of the cargo bays at the rear of the main landing bay, a location close to Engineering and the main air lock. Trouble there should bring two of the four guards running. The one on the Bridge would be lured away by the fire alarm from the Officers’ Mess on the same level. Their hatch was a service one that would bring them out in the adjacent cargo bay. The signal for them to attack would be the flickering of the main lighting in there.

“Good hunting,” Kusac said to Tirak as he and his team halted.

“Good hunting, Captain,” said Tirak, sketching a rough salute to his helmet before he led his family deeper into the ship to the hatch they needed. They were headed up to the mess kitchen to deal with the Bridge guard. This time, the Cabbarans had remained on the Orbital.

Noolgoi moved forward to open the hatch, swinging the door wide. Inside, a corridor just wide enough for them in their suits split off from a central well to the left and right. In the well itself, a rotating mechanism brought a small platform into view every thirty seconds, one that then sank below the level of the deck they were on, taking repair crews and their equipment down to the lower decks and access corridors.

“IR filters on,” ordered Kusac. “Down four levels, then step off into the side corridor till I join you. We’ll form up in Fire units as we exit. Banner, go first,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Noolgoi, you’re last. Close the hatch behind you. Move out.”

While waiting, he ran a quick check on his suit’s combat systems, scanning the telltales on his HUD for each member of his team, triggering the autotracking system and the targeting grid before turning them off again. When it was his turn, he stepped onto the platform and grabbed hold of the handgrip, turning around as he sank slowly down to the level they needed.

 

Crates had been stacked to give them cover when they exited the hatch. Just beyond those they could see that the dividing wall between the cargo bays had been retracted at one section.

His people deployed, Kusac called Q’almo on his comm.

“Red One in position, Base.”

“Copy. Informing contact now.”

Strident voices were coming from the bay beyond, getting louder by the minute. One voice, deeper and harsher than the others, rang out, the words indistinct but the intention more than clear. Kusac braced himself, opening his mental shields just enough to read the situation while signaling his people to be ready.

As the lights flickered twice, a shot rang out, followed by a second harsh voice demanding silence.

“Move out!” snapped Kusac, gesturing Banner to go first. “Two guards. One dead ahead, other at 2 o’clock from him.”

In a rolling advance, darting from cover to cover, both Fire units headed for the opening. Noolgoi was first in, followed by Kusac on the other side. Kusac’s shot took the guard immediately ahead of him in the upper chest, sending him flying backward. As the other began to turn, a look of shock on his face, Noolgoi’s shot hit him in the legs.

As he fell, the guard’s weapon came up and a shot spat out. Without even thinking, Kusac lunged for Banner, ramming him aside while letting off a long pulse of energy that severed the guard’s arm and went on to burn its way through his torso, cutting off the ascending shriek of agony midcry. They hit a stack of packing crates that disintegrated under their combined weight, sending them sprawling on the deck.

The civilian Primes scattered as a third guard came charging into the bay. He didn’t get far. The blast from four energy rifles hit him, sending him crashing back the way he’d come.

J’korrash ran to help him and Banner up from the remains of the shattered crates while the others kept watch.

Getting to his feet, Kusac punched a private channel to Noolgoi. “Next time, when I say kill, do it,” he snarled angrily before closing it.

“Clear these civilians out and stay alert! There’s one more guard, and he knows we’re here.”

The fifteen Primes huddled behind the crates eased themselves cautiously into the open. Banner grabbed one of them and pointed to the injured crewmember lying in the middle of the floor retching.

“Take him with you,” he said.

Pale and shaking, the male scurried over to help his fallen workmate.

“Just what we need, a shipwide hunt,” Kusac muttered in disgust. His anger was dissipating, leaving in its place a small residue of shock over how easily he’d almost lost his Second.

“Thanks,” said Banner. “Didn’t see that rifle coming up.”

“Neither did I. I sensed it.” He clasped Banner’s arm to take the sting out of his terse reply. “Let’s get after that fourth guard.”

“Aye.”

Carefully they began to pick their way around the dead bodies. The sound of someone dry-retching stopped them.

“Vartra’s Bones!” swore Banner. “Noolgoi! Deep breaths, dammit! You can’t throw up in your suit—you’ll choke on it!”

The sounds got worse.

“I’m on it, Lieutenant!” said M’yikku, shouldering his rifle. Swiftly he began unfastening Noolgoi’s helmet, pulling it off and holding it while the young male turned and staggered to the nearest crate. Holding onto it, he was violently sick.

“Maybe that meal break was a mistake,” muttered Kusac, signaling Khadui and M’kou to go cover the doorway.

“We’re lucky he’s the only one,” said Banner, guarding their rear with Jayza. “Considering how few of them have seen real combat.”

“There is that.” Unspoken was the thought that at least they didn’t need to worry about their own people.

“Got him in time, Captain,” said M’yikku, reaching down to grab a piece of stray packing waste and handing it to his brother. “He’s cleaning himself up now.”

“Get that helmet on, Noolgoi!” he said angrily. “We’re losing time, putting innocents at risk!”

“Yes, sir,” the youth gulped, grabbing for his helmet.

Banner exchanged a grin with him as cautiously, on Q’almo’s relayed instructions, they made their way along the scuffed access corridor to the main air lock. On the way, Kusac had him call Tirak, giving him a terse warning about their fire-fight and the remaining guard. The U’Churian and his team were still en route to the Officers’ Mess area.