Shades of Gray (40 page)

“I’m fine, Kezule . . .”

“You will report to the evac team.” Cold fury underscored Kezule’s voice this time, but Kaid knew it was not directed at him. “Take your Pack with you, and leave the others there as guards. Our Emperor has been seriously wounded, and I am told Kusac is also injured. The Empress has been found dead. I will lose none of you this day, do I make myself clear?”

“The Prince and Kusac?” Kaid said. “How?”

“I have no details as yet. I am on my way. Likely you will see them at the evac center before me. Another reason I want you there, as protection for Emperor Zsurtul.”

“Aye, I’ll go then,” he said.

I have Jurrel on his Team channel for you,
sent Carrie.
Kusac healed the worst of the Prince’s injuries, but he still needs medical attention.

He could hear the unease and surprise in her voice.

We’ll find out soon enough,
he sent then turned on Jurrel’s Team channel. “Report, Jurrel. Where’s Zhalmo?”

“You don’t know? K’hedduk took her—as his claim to the throne.”

This new shock hit him hard. They may have won this battle, but their losses so far had been unacceptably heavy. “Does Kezule know?”

“Yes, he was told immediately J’korrash and Kusac knew.”

That, and the Prince’s injuries, explain his rage,
sent Carrie.

“Status on both the injured.”

“The Prince is stable. His injuries are fairly bad but not life threatening now, from what J’korrash says. Kusac—I can’t see anything wrong on his suit monitor. The only meds it’s administered are glucose and a rehydration fluid, which it’s still dispensing. Evac is on its way to us.”

“Tell J’korrash to accompany them. You rejoin T’Chebbi’s Team and take control of it when you’ve seen them on the craft. She’s already at evac HQ and I’m on my way there shortly.”

“Aye, sir.”

He relayed Kezule’s orders to the Fire Packs; then, sighing, he shifted his position, making himself comfortable so he could lean back against the wall of the fountain.

Can you sense him?
he asked after a short silence.

What he was going to say next was lost as the sound of a Touiban evac craft filled the air.

 

A field hospital had been set up inside the warehouses at the landing pad by the simple expedient of landing a small hospital ship. Around it, food and rec tents had been hastily set up for those not needing beds but unable to return to their units.

Kaid and his Team had barely arrived when a stir of excitement drew anyone who could walk to the outer doors.

“Find out what the fuss is about,” Kaid said irritably to Maaz’ih as they headed for the ramp into the hospital. He hadn’t the patience for this—he was too concerned over the state of T’Chebbi, Kusac, and the Emperor-elect.

He was still at the reception area, fending off efforts from the Touibans to admit him while trying to find out T’Chebbi’s condition when a sudden silence fell.

Every instinct made him spin around, pistol already drawn, to face the new arrivals. In front of him, protected by four guards wearing blue draperies and carrying large staff weapons, stood a party of six bronze spindly-limbed TeLaxaudin.

A low vibrating hum came from the lead one. “Injured you have. We return to treat them now the imposter has left,” the electronic translator it wore intoned. “The Sand-dweller Emperor and the Hunter healer—tend them we must. To them lead us now.”

“I don’t think so,” said Kaid, ears flicking out to the side and down. “Just where in L’Shoh’s Hell did you come from?”

The guards instantly moved to the front of the party and pointed their staff weapons at him.

The lead TeLaxaudin lifted one thin hand and waved them back. “Your weapon you will not need. Come from nowhere, Captain. Already here we are. We hide from the imposter. Physician Kouansishus am I.”

Slowly Kaid reached up to activate the headset. “Shartoh, what’s the name of the head TeLaxaudin physician in the Palace?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the speaker. “Why didn’t you warn me they were here?”

“Um . . . Ayziss, or maybe Shoawomiss, if I remember right. And we’re so used to them, Captain. They’ve always lived in the Palace.”

“What about Kouansishus?”

“Kouansishus was the head one,” interrupted Zsafar. “Ayziss was head of Research, not Medicine, and Shoawomiss was in charge of medical research.”

“So confirmation you now have,” said Kouansishus, bobbing his head slightly. “Our patients wait our arrival.”

Kaid holstered his gun. “They haven’t arrived yet,” he said. “You will not be treating the Sholan, though. We’ll see to him ourselves.”

The TeLaxaudin’s draperies began to move slightly. “The choice yours is to make, but advanced medicines we have to restore him more quickly.”

“Prince Zsurtul and Kusac’s evac has arrived, Captain Kaid,” Maaz’ih’s voice sounded in his headset. “We’ll be escorting them in.”

“So, they arrive now. Show us a treatment room. Our equipment will follow.”

“You won’t need your soldiers. We’ve been asked to guard the Emperor-elect,” said Kaid as a hum of conversation broke out toward the entrance.

“Remain will one. Us you will not use the way you dealt with Kzizysus,” came the sharp reply.

“Uh . . . One, then.” He had to admit, they had a point.

“Prepare yourself and you we will treat also.”

“There’s no need. I will see to him, thank you,” said Carrie stepping in front of him and taking hold of his good arm.

From outside came the sound of raised voices—the lilting tones of the Touibans’ speech underscored by a deeper Sholan voice they knew well. They only had time to exchange a glance before the door into the reception area swung back with a crash. Kusac, still wearing his battle armor, preceded the stretcher bearing Prince Zsurtul. He looked around, taking in the situation at a glance, acknowledging their presence only with the barest of nods.

“I want a Touiban surgeon to be present at all times,” he said to the Touiban at the desk, ignoring the TeLaxaudin. “They must understand and check any TeLaxaudin procedures before they are carried out—and I will remain at the Prince’s side. This is the will of myself and General Kezule.”

“As you wish, Captain,” said a physician, stepping out from the crowd. “If you will be following me, I will lead you to the treatment room we have made ready for His Highness.”

Kaid caught sight of J’korrash at the rear of the crowd.

“Report, Lieutenant,” he murmured into his headset.

“He came around suddenly,” said J’korrash. “Just before we were told about the arrival of the TeLaxaudin.” She hesitated. “He’s still weak, Captain. He should be having treatment too, but he refuses to listen to anyone.”

“I hear you, J’korrash. Leave it with us now and join my Fire Pack on guard duty.”

“Aye, sir.”

As she signed off, he realized a Touiban was standing beside him, trying to get his attention.

“Your turn now it is for treatment, Captain Kaid. If you will be accompanying me I will take you to your physician.”

“You’ll go now,” said Carrie, reaching up to remove his headset. “I’ll deal with this.”

Kaid saw the look in her eyes and sighed. He wouldn’t win this fight, no matter what he did. “Then come with me,” was all he said. “I want news on T’Chebbi as soon as there is any.”

 

BITTER cold enveloped him, sending uncontrollable shivers through his body. Consciousness returned abruptly, and he came to to find himself, helmetless, on his back, surrounded by concerned Touiban faces. Every sense screamed danger to him. With a wordless cry, he flung himself off the stretcher, landing in a combat-ready crouch, pistol already in his gloved hand. Then the weakness and fatigue hit him, and he began to sway, feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach.

As people rushed to support and reassure him, he steadied himself, straightening up as he felt the sting of the suit medicating him again. At the same instant, the temperature inside it began to rise to a normal level.

Realization of what had happened to him came at last, the sense of danger now dimming. A quick glance told him he was on the landing pad outside the warehouses. As he holstered his pistol, a gnarled Touiban hand held out his helmet. Nodding, he accepted it. Pulling the comm free from inside, he put it on. Looking over their heads, he saw J’korrash and flung his helmet to her.

He activated the comm link. “Kezule . . .” he began.

“You’re conscious? Good,” came the reply. “What happened to you, and how badly injured is the Prince?”

“Exhaustion,” he replied, cutting him short. “I did what I could in the way of healing. Zsurtul won’t die now, but he’s still badly hurt.”

“Stay with him. There are TeLaxaudin there—I don’t completely trust them . . . Can he wait till Zayshul and I arrive?”

“No. I’ll stay with him and see that only the Touiban medics treat him, unless he needs something urgently that they can’t provide.”

“Are you well enough . . . ?”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, nodding to the Touibans who were gesturing that they must take the Prince inside. “I need a brief battle update.”

“The City is ours, as are the Palace grounds. The battle continues inside.”

“Good. Keep me posted,” he said, closing the connection as another, lesser, wave of fatigue made him stagger despite the suit’s ability to support him.

 

“He will be crowned within the hour,” Kezule hissed into the transmitter in the headset he wore, as, flanked by heavily armed and armored guards, he took the stairs up to the Throne Room three at a time. Behind him, at his gesture, his escort of commandos peeled off to either side, taking up positions at regular intervals.

“You told me Zsurtul was out of recovery and awake, that thanks to Kusac’s prompt actions, his life was no longer endangered. Release him and the Captain to my commandos so they can be brought to the Throne Room now, Zayshul!”

Switching the transmitter off, he turned his attention to the Palace AI.

“ZSADHI, you have the codes for all friendly troops. Initiate a level 2 Palace lockdown,” he snapped. “Allow free access only to those on your current list.”

“Lockdown initiated,” replied the artificial voice. “Arming security lasers now.”

“On stun,” Kezule reminded, glancing briefly at the glowing red eye of the one on the left-hand side of the double doors ahead of him.

“Of course, Lord General Kezule,” replied the AI in what sounded like a tone of justified outrage. “I expect you want me to inform you of anyone who . . .”

“You have your orders,” Kezule interrupted, passing between the doors and into the Throne Room itself. “Damned impudent machine!” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t remember it being this presumptuous before!” It was taking a supreme effort of will to suppress the rage that was threatening to break loose right now.

“You were a minor Royal on your last visit, Lord General. It was not in my remit to engage you in . . .”

“Be silent!” he commanded, coming to a halt and surveying the almost empty room. “Get the public broadcasting equipment online and ready to use when I give the order. D’haalmu, reinitialize the manual security checkpoint. Designate a team to police it.” He looked across to where his daughter, Shartoh, was approaching him.