Between Darkness and Light (18 page)

Shaidan nodded distractedly. “I can shield now, Captain.”

“Then use your shield to distance yourself,” said Kusac, holding onto the edges of the counter, feeling suddenly drained.

“Captain, here's the medication you asked for.”

Gratefully, Kusac took the hypo from the medic. “I'm going to give you a shot, Shaidan. I know you said you can shield, but while you're wearing that collar, you shouldn't be picking up anything at all.” He placed the nozzle against his son's neck and pressed the trigger.

 

Kezule was standing by the incubator, unsure what to do when M'kou burst into the room.

“Take the cover off!” his son said, striding across to his side. “It needs air when it hatches.”

Kezule unlatched it, taking the clear lid off and setting it down on a nearby table. Exposed, the egg lay motionless in its padded cradle, light glinting off the multicolored surface.

“It'll need food. They're starving when they hatch. And dangerous,” Kezule said.

“I'll get some minced raw meat,” M'kou said, heading for the food dispenser in the kitchen.

“General,” he said when he returned. “Shaidan—he said the shell is too hard, you'll need to break it or the hatchling will die.”

“What?” Kezule stared at him. “Break the shell? What if it's too soon? It would die!”

“It's not too soon,” said M'kou.

Kezule glanced automatically toward the incubator. “We can't break the shell,” he said, frowning.

Thrusting the plate at the General, M'kou pushed past him. The egg had begun to move slightly from side to side. He reached into the incubator.

“What're you doing?” demanded Zayshul suddenly from behind them.

Before either of them could react, M'kou had picked her egg up in both hands and tapped its side gently against the metal brackets that had supported it for the past three months.

Zayshul hissed in shock, reaching out to stop him, but M'kou neatly sidestepped her.

“I do know what I'm doing, Doctor,” he reassured her, examining the egg closely. “Get me a towel or something to put inside the bottom of the incubator.”

Automatically she went over to a drawer unit, glancing back uncertainly at M'kou.

“Put it down, M'kou,” Kezule said, his voice taking on an edge. “I told you not to break the shell!”

“Then your child will die,” M'kou said, ignoring the General as he held the egg against his chest and began to tap his claw tip on the faint crack line he'd created. “It needs air or it will suffocate.”

“Leave it alone. If it's too weak to break the shell, then so be it.” Kezule's voice was emotionless. He looked at Zayshul as she scrabbled frantically in a drawer. “What was so important in sick bay?” he demanded. “You should have come here immediately the alarm sounded!”

“One of the engineers was badly injured. I had to operate on his hand. I left him with Ghidd'ah as soon as I could.”

M'kou glanced briefly at him before giving the egg another, harder tap. “You don't want my sister to die—Father,” he said quietly and deliberately as Zayshul ran back with a towel.

Shocked at being addressed so familiarly, Kezule could only stand and watch as Zayshul removed the egg cradle and placed the towel in the base of the incubator.

“In La'shol's name, I hope you know what you're doing,” whispered Zayshul as she saw the tiny hole in the egg when M'kou placed it on the towel.

“I checked the databases before we left K'oish'ik, Doctor. You were both too busy to think of everything before we left,” the young Prime said, moving aside as the egg started to rock gently. “This is an accepted medical procedure with Royal hatchings. I'd put the plate of meat in now,” he added.

Kezule walked slowly round to the other side of the incubator. He knew that in a few minutes his life would change forever yet again. When he saw a tiny clawed finger thrust itself through the hole, then curl over the edge of the shell, he felt a brief moment of dizziness. He'd watched several hatchings, but never one of his own.

With a faint cracking sound, the shell around the finger collapsed inward. Then one small hand appeared, and another. The shell fragmented, exposing a tightly-curled green shape that slowly began to move. Large, luminous yellow eyes blinked up at him then the wide mouth opened, tongue flicking out as it emitted a hoarse cry.

Intense hunger filled his mind. Opposite him, Zayshul gasped and reached down for their infant.

His hand instantly stopped hers. “It'll bite,” he said warningly. “To the bone and beyond. I've seen a dozen of these . . .”

“I don't want to know,” she interrupted, pulling her hand free. “This is our daughter, not some half-feral creature from your past!” She reached down and picked up the smallest piece of bloody meat then offered it to the hatchling.

The tongue flicked out briefly again, then, leaning forward unsteadily, the small female let her tongue touch Zayshul's hand, then the meat. She overbalanced, falling forward with cries of distress. Instantly Zayshul's other hand caught her and popped the piece of meat into the open mouth.

The cries stopped instantly as the infant began to chew with obvious pleasure.

Zayshul offered her a second piece of meat. This time, her hand was grasped for support before the hatchling's head lowered to pick it up.

“Be careful,” said Kezule quietly.

Raising a face wreathed in smiles, Zayshul asked, “Of what? She knows me, Kezule! She knows I'm her mother. Our daughter won't harm me.”

The words echoed inside his head. A daughter. In his time, at best she'd have been condemned to a life in someone else's harem, at worst, she'd have been killed as a surplus breeding female. Only sons had any value. Strangely, he was glad they'd had a daughter. The thought of watching another Zayshul grow to maturity and beyond in freedom pleased him. He had sons in plenty, both with him and back on the home world, he didn't need another.

Tentatively, he reached inside the incubator and ran a finger across the hatchling's back. She shivered slightly but otherwise ignored him, intent on stuffing her belly with food.

Feelings of pride began to fill him. “She's small for a female,” he said lamely, taking his hand out.

“They double their size in the first two days,” ventured M'kou, getting a blanket from the nearby crib. “She doesn't look much smaller than those I saw in the files.”

“So you think your sister is fine?”

M'kou's expression of surprise made Kezule smile.

“She owes her life to you,” said Zayshul, reaching down to pick up the nearly satiated infant and wrap her in the small blanket M'kou held out to her. “Thank you, M'kou. I can't thank you enough.”

“I think she's beautiful,” said M'kou, watching Zayshul cradle her daughter.

“She's like her mother,” said Kezule, seeing the resemblance between them in the subtle shades of translucent blue and purple on his daughter's face.

“Just as M'kou is the son most like you,” said Zayshul, stroking her infant's cheek as its eyelids began to droop.

Startled, Kezule glanced at his son, who looked away in embarrassment. “Really?”

“Of course he is!” said Zayshul, looking up at them. “Why do you continue to pretend you aren't related? I know how proud of them you are. Today, with the hatching of our daughter, Mayza, would be a good day to start acknowledging your other children.”

“They don't need me to do that, they're fully grown,” he murmured, trying to find somewhere to look where he wouldn't meet either Zayshul's or M'kou's gaze.

“Of course they do! They're proud to be your offspring, no matter how old they are.”

He had to look at M'kou then.

“We'd never presume so much, General,” he murmured, unwilling to raise his head.

Every one of his eighty tank-grown sons was different. One of the best combatants in his training unit before he'd been chosen as his aide, M'kou was indeed a son to be proud of. Their time together had been short, but in that time, his loyalty, attention to every detail, and willingness to do any task asked of him, no matter how trivial seeming, was second to none. It was something he'd never recognzed till now.

“Perhaps you're right,” he agreed. “M'kou, would you please inform your brothers and sisters about Mayza's hatching, then inform the rest of the station? We will arrange a private Naming Day Ceremony within the next three days. I expect them to be with us as family.”

“He invites them, M'kou,” Zayshul said, stopping her gentle crooning to her sleeping child. “Say he invites them as family.”

“Yes, Doctor,” said M'kou, a slight smile on his face as he beat a hasty retreat before the General, his father, embarrassed him any further.

Up in his quarters on the hydroponics level, Giyarishis' head bobbed gently in a satisfied nod as he disengaged himself from Unity. Since the original dose of memory enhancing chemicals, the sand-dweller male was adapting as the Camarilla had planned. It was vital he developed a sense of family unity. Without that, none of the vital and more abstract loyalties to the community he was building could evolve.

 

As he laid the sleeping kitling down on one of the beds, Kusac looked up at the nurse hovering nearby.

“When you see Doctor Zayshul next, tell her we must discuss matters of the cub's health as soon as possible,” he said, pulling the cover over his son.

“I'll tell her, Captain.”

Reluctantly, he left, knowing Shaidan would sleep for several hours. So Kezule and Zayshul had their own child now, had they? Then how could she be Shaidan's mother? Until now, he'd allowed himself to be diverted by Shaidan from his need to know the truth. No longer.

WHEN Kezule decided to change something, the changes happened fast. Within days, the military look of the Outpost had altered. Certain areas remained utilitarian and austere; others, like the mess and a newly opened up rec room, acquired ornaments and pictures on the walls—cushions even appeared in some of the easy chairs. All had been donated by the civilian Primes. They changed too, the females in particular, casting off the gray coveralls unless they were working to dress in brighter colors and different styles of clothing.

The General and his wife were seldom to be seen, so Kusac's desire to meet with Zayshul was constantly frustrated. He had to be content with discussing his son's possible needs as a young telepath with Ghidd'ah, her second in charge. His meetings with Shaidan went on as before, though his son was quieter, if it were possible, since the hatching of the egg. The atmosphere between them grew more and more strained. Kusac decided to teach him about Shola using his portable comp unit from the
Venture II
. At first resistant to the idea, gradually Shaidan thawed, absorbing all Kusac could show him. For his part, he learned that though Shaidan's programming prevented his son from asking questions, if left to operate the comp himself, he'd search for what he wanted to know.

After the first fortnight, the training sessions began to fall into a familiar pattern. With Kezule's sixteen officer offspring, Kusac and his crew found themselves quickly outclassed by their sheer physical speed and strength. He placed the emphasis of their training instead on problem solving and working together as a team to complete their given task. For this, he requested the use of the unused field areas on the hydroponics level. There, with the help of the land and an irrigation stream, he and his crew were able to divide the area in two and create a variety of challenging scenarios.

For the fourteen half-M'zullians, he had to adopt a totally different approach, but one which also emphasized the need for mutual cooperation and teamwork. He based their training on assault courses set up either in one of the remaining two unused gyms, where they took turns at defending and attacking a flag post, or in the hydroponics level fields. This he coupled with maintenance courses in looking after their weapons and the shuttles on the
N'zishok
.

The civilian groups, by far the largest units, were much easier to work with. Kezule had assigned them to him exclusively for blocks of four weeks so each group could complete their basic training and discipline before going back to their normal duties in the labs, sick bay, and other nonmilitary areas.

During the days, after meal breaks, he would scan the corridors between the gym and the mess, hoping for a sight of Zayshul. He continued to visit the sick bay every few days, only to be given the same answer each time—the needs of her young daughter were such that she was off duty for the foreseeable future.