Between Darkness and Light (24 page)

The chime on his door sounded. Sighing, he automatically looked at his wrist unit. It would be M'kou with Shaidan.

“Enter,” he said, a decision suddenly crystallizing in his mind. Perhaps he could defuse his crew's reaction to the earring.

M'kou was indeed standing in the doorway with Shaidan.

“Don't go, M'kou,” he said, putting his mug down on the small table beside his chair. “I want to take Shaidan to the mess to eat with my crew. Doubtless you'll want to accompany us. It's time Shaidan mixed with others of our kind.”

“As you wish, Captain,” said Kezule's aide.

He got to his feet, frowning as he approached his son. “He's wearing ear studs,” he said, trying not to let his voice betray his anger. “Who did this?” he demanded.

“The General had it done,” said M'kou. “It's for tomorrow.”

“He had no right to have my son mutilated like this!” he said, glaring at the young Prime as his vision began to narrow to huntersight.

“Hardly that, Captain,” said M'kou quietly. “It's no different from what you've had done, save that he wears two studs and you only have one. I checked the database you gave us from the
Venture.
Sholan males do wear them, and Shaidan gave his consent.”

He gave a snort of disgust. “He'll say and do what you want, you know that.”

“Not when he's told to speak freely,” said M'kou. “And he doesn't know how to lie. Shall we go?” Clasping his hand on Shaidan's shoulder, he drew the kitling back into the corridor, waiting for Kusac.

There was no option but to follow and just brazen it out with his crew. Rumbling his discontent and anger, he followed them.

In Shaidan's presence, he had to shut his Talent down completely—despite his son's collar, the risk of discovery was too great—so he was spared hearing Dzaou's outburst and Banner's obvious instant put-down as soon as they entered the mess.

“Hello, Shaidan,” said his Second as they found seats at their table. “Nice to see you. Are you joining us for third meal?”

Shaidan glanced uncertainly at M'kou.

“You may answer Lieutenant Banner's question,” the Prime said.

As he sat beside Shaidan, Kusac began to curse silently. He'd forgotten how alike they looked. He had to prevent his crew from noticing the resemblance between them, and that meant using his Talent. Carefully, he reached inside himself, changing his mental shields, letting them reflect back a sense of discomfort if he was looked at for any length of time. The speed at which he achieved this, and with a minimal use of energy, rattled him. It had never been that easy before.

“Yes,” said Shaidan.

“What would you like to eat? I'll get Dzaou to fetch it for you,” continued Banner.

“No need, thank you,” said M'kou. “One of the servers will come over.”

“I see you and the Captain are wearing Prime jewelry,” said Khadui, his tone one of forced joviality as he pushed his empty plate aside. “Is it for the festival tomorrow?”

“Yes,” said Kusac abruptly, answering for Shaidan. “Members of AlRel frequently get asked to participate in local customs. Where possible, we accommodate our hosts.”

“And here was me thinking you'd gone native,” muttered Dzaou.

“They're very nice,” said Banner, frowning at Dzaou. “It's for the Goddess of Fertility, isn't it? La'shol.”

“Yes,” said Shaidan as M'kou prompted him again.

“There's little difference between La'shol and our Green Goddess if you want to build bridges between cultures,” said Kusac, seeing with relief a Prime approaching carrying a tray and three meals.

“I see your food has arrived,” said Banner. “I know Dzaou and Khadui have things to attend to, but Jayza and I will stay with you.” He looked pointedly at the two older Sholans.

Khadui got to his feet. “Dzaou, we've got those drums to finish,” he said.

Dzaou hesitated then rose to follow the other as the server placed the plates in front of M'kou, Kusac, and Shaidan. M'kou nodded his thanks and began eating.

“Two new people is a little less overwhelming, isn't it, Shaidan?” said Banner, mouth dropping in a grin. “Are you just eating with us, or are you on a longer visit?” He glanced across at Kusac. “I'll bet you've not had the chance to play any games yet. If you like, we could go to the gym after you've eaten and play tag or hard ball.”

Kusac was aware of the flicker of interest almost immediately. “I'd hoped we could do that,” he said. “Then a shower afterward.”

“Captain,” said M'kou, fork suspended in midair.

“It's time he mixed with more than just me. I'll make sure he's not late.”

M'kou sighed and put his fork down on his plate. “The General said if you asked to take him to mix with your crew, you could, but he can shower when he gets back to his quarters.”

“Showering with friends is a Sholan custom,” said Kusac firmly. “You aren't furred, you wouldn't understand. You can come too, if you must,” he added, watching Banner raise his eye ridges in surprise.

“The Doctor helps me shower,” said Shaidan quietly.

Kusac looked at his son. This was the first time he'd ever offered his opinion.

“Only Sholans really know how to wash each other,” grinned Jayza, taking a drink from his mug of coffee. “There's an art to getting your pelt properly lathered, especially in the recycled water they have here.”

“It's pure,” said M'kou, beginning to eat again. “The General told me they used to collect ice from asteroids then melt and purify it for the tanks. We've barely used what's in the main storage tank, let alone needed to touch the recycled water.”

“It's better than what we used on our ships,” reminded Banner. “At least we don't have to put up with the antiparasite chemicals in it every three days!”

Shaidan looked up from his food at them.

“There are various small insects that like living in the pelts of long-haired beings like us,” he explained. “They bite you and make you itch abominably. On Sholan ships, they put chemicals in the shower water to kill them off. Brushing helps too.”

“Don't worry, Shaidan,” Banner laughed gently at Shaidan's horrified look. “We're all free of them and until we go planetside, we don't have to worry. When we do, there's medication on the
Venture
that we can use to kill them off.”

“I must admit I was wondering about that,” said M'kou as he finished his food.

He began to relax, knowing that bringing Shaidan here had been the right decision. Ten minutes with these two and the shell of indifference that his son affected had been cracked twice. They'd achieved more than he had since they'd arrived—mainly due to Banner.

 

The game, though short, had gone quite well. At first Shaidan had been reluctant to join in, but with encouragement, and seeing the way Jayza and Banner joked and fooled around with each other, he'd allowed himself to participate, if not with enthusiasm, then with genuine effort.

The shower had gone well, too. He'd washed Shaidan, giving the kitling a chance to watch the other two adults clowning around with the soap. He'd even managed an involuntary chuckle or two himself at their antics.

Pelt mostly dry, Shaidan, wrapped in a dry towel, had gone off with M'kou, leaving him drained as he finally let his mental shields return to normal.

“He's a nice cub,” said Jayza, rubbing his hair. “Someone will be glad to get him back. Do they know who his parents are?”

“They're dead,” he said, getting up from the bench to finish drying himself. “He'll come home with me.”

“The authorities might decide otherwise,” said Banner. “Don't build your hopes up, Kusac.”

“I'm not,” he said, suddenly needing his own company again as his torc began to tingle warningly. He flung his towel over his shoulder and picked up his robe, turning to go. “I'm going to turn in early.”

“You can't go out unclothed, Kusac,” said Banner, reaching out to stop him from leaving.

Jayza laughed. “Better not. You'll have all the females following you. They flock round you enough as it is.”

“What?” He stopped dead, not believing what he'd heard.

“You mean you haven't noticed? They don't make half as much fuss over us as they do around you.”

“It's because he's the Captain, that's all,” said Banner lightly, letting him go. “You'd better put your robe on, unless you want me to help dry you first.”

“I'm dry, thank you,” he said mechanically, taking the towel off his shoulder and putting on his robe. Why would Prime females be more interested in him than in the others? Did it have something to do with why Zayshul had come to him that night? Had the doctor, Chy'qui, changed him in some way? He dismissed the thought almost immediately. He'd gone through so many tests after his return to his own people that any changes would have been instantly spotted. But a niggling doubt still remained at the back of his mind.

TABLES had been set up at the end of the temple nearest the door, ready for the meal that was to follow the religious service. The seats were placed in a semicircular fashion facing the altar. Most were taken, although a few people, obviously civilians, were still milling around. M'kou led them to a row on the left, near the front, telling Kusac he needed to sit on the outside so when it came time for him to come forward, he could get out easily.

“Here's the gift for you to take,” said M'kou, handing him a small package. “Just place it on the altar, then go round to your right and stand facing the congregation until the ceremony is over.”

He nodded briefly, taking the package. “I remember.” The scent of anticipation and excitement that filled the room was almost overpowering.

Three loud bangs on the floor created an instant flurry of activity as those still standing quickly found seats before the ceremony began. He let his attention drift while the story of their Goddess and Her place as the symbol of fertility was told by Shezhul, Kezule's other daughter. Kusac's thoughts turned to home and their own midwinter festival, and inevitably to Carrie and his daughter, but they seemed no more than a distant memory: as unreal as the place he found himself in now.

An elbow dug him sharply in the ribs. “Kusac!” whispered Banner. “It's their daughter! Look how big she is!”

Looking, he saw Zayshul standing to one side, holding a diminutive Prime child by the hand—a child that was almost as tall as Shaidan yet could be no more than seven weeks old.

“Captain, we're ready for you now,” said M'kou, standing beside him.

A hand grasped him by the arm as he began to rise. Surprised, he looked up at Khadui.

“Do you realize what you're doing?” asked the older male harshly. “You're taking part in their fertility festival, standing there as a male principle! You're condoning what Kezule's doing with the cub! Look at Shaidan! Look at what he's wearing!”

Banner pulled Khadui's hand away before he could. “Leave it!” his Second snarled, letting his hair rise in a show of anger. “This isn't the time or place!”

“It never is! He spends more time off-duty with them than with us!”

“You forget yourself,” Kusac said coldly, moving away from him. “I'll see you later, Khadui, on a charge of insubordination.” He was furious. First Dzaou, and now Khadui was threatening what he'd worked so hard to achieve. The last thing he needed was Kezule becoming concerned over his ability to control his crew.

As he accompanied M'kou, the Prime spoke quietly to him. “Captain, if I may advise you in the interests of peace between our people, do something soon, before the General needs to act.”

He said nothing, having just seen Shaidan step out from behind Zayshul and walk over to him, wearing an outfit that matched the Prime child's—an outfit he recognized as similar to the ones Rezac and Zashou had worn as pets at the court of Kezule's Emperor. As if in a trance, he automatically put the gift on the altar, thanking Vartra that the others knew nothing of this.

“Captain,” repeated M'kou.

“I heard you!” he said sharply, staring at the short kilt his son wore, and the beaded chest decoration that hung round his neck. Jewel-bright colors glinted in the artificial light, showing off the swirling anthropomorphic shapes picked out in brilliant hues of blue, turquoise, red, and yellow. In his son's ears, the green stones were very visible, as visible as the inch wide metal band that surrounded his throat. On either side of his face, a lock of hair had been plaited into a single, fine braid.