A MESSAGE beacon at the rendezvous point, responding only to Kusac's voice, had redirected them to new coordinates where the destroyer N'zishok was waiting for them.

Captain Zaykkuh instructed them to dock the Venture II in the ship's landing bay.

As they made their approach, Kusac looked around at his crew of four. "This time, we really could be walking into a trap," he said. "I'm prepared to risk myself, but no one else. You can drop me off and go back to Haven." He still wasn't sure whether or not he was glad of their company.

"We made our own decision to join you," said Jayza.

"There's no way I'm leaving one of our cubs with aliens like them," growled Dzaou.

He stared fixedly at the tan-pelted male, frowning and swiveling his ears forward. "I'm still in charge, Dzaou, remember that. I want no unauthorized rescue attempts. You'll not put either the cub's, or our lives at risk."

"Kezule's request could be genuine enough," said Banner, looking briefly away from his console at Kusac. "He seemed pretty reasonable, wasn't at all what I expected."

"Never forget Kezule is a Valtegan," Kusac responded. "He's not a Prime. After his escape, he beat his Sholan female companion almost to death then raped her. Don't be fooled by his apparently civilized behavior toward us."

"Keeza agreed to go into his prison cell with him," said Banner. "She was working undercover. He needed to pair with her to save her life."

"After he'd bitten her to inject a poison that made her protect him while he hibernated to heal!" he said harshly. "Kezule's dangerous; Valtegans are stronger and faster than us. To them we're inferiors, not even worth considering as people."

"How do we tell Primes from Valtegans?" asked Jayza, breaking the small silence that had fallen after Kusac's outburst.

"All the females, and all lighter colored males are Primes," he answered, moderating his tone. "The only other Valtegans are the M'zullian half-breed warriors like those we have on Shola. Be especially careful with them, they could still have a psychosis about our species."

"Approaching their landing bay now," said Banner as the entrance to the N'zishok loomed large in the main view screen.

"Take us in," he said as they returned their attention to their work.

Wearing his black priest's robe over his uniform tunic as a way of setting himself apart from his crew, Kusac began to lead the way down the Venture II's ramp, cautiously feeling the way ahead with his mind. This time there were no psi dampers in the docking bay. He sensed some twenty people nearby, mostly in small groups of two or three. Just as he focused on the largest, a group of six, his torc began to vibrate gently, automatically warning him that his mental touch was too strong and he was risking discovery. Instantly, he drew back.

The coldness of the deck beneath his bare feet made him shiver, reminding him this time of his return as a Valtegan hostage at Haven so many months before. Dismissing the memory as irrelevant, he put his small kit bag on the ground and watched the welcoming party cross the landing bay toward them. Peripherally, he was aware that only one other vehicle was in the bay and that the other Primes present were involved in refueling and servicing it.

"I've sealed the Venture as you ordered, Captain," murmured Banner, coming to stand at his right. "No one but us can get in."

He nodded, studying the group of four green-clad soldiers who came to a stop in front of them. The lead two, dressed in black fatigues with gold details, were Primes. All carried side arms.

"I thought you said there was only one Valtegan here," muttered Dzaou.

"M'zullians, like those we have on Shola," reminded Banner quietly.

"Captain Aldatan," said the lead male, taking a step away from his people. "Welcome to the N'zishok. I'm Lieutenant M'zynal, current head of security, and this is Lieutenant Shartoh."

He studied the young male in front of him, aware of his hackles beginning to prickle as he smelled the other's scent. The same height as himself, just over six feet tall, the Prime's flesh was pale green with a slightly sand-colored tint to it. The round, hairless skull was topped by a ridge that began just above the brows. Large eyes, almost bulbous, regarded him unblinkingly. Under a nose with small vertical slits for nostrils, the wide, almost V-shaped mouth held scores of tiny, pointed teeth.

M'zynal indicated the male on his left. "I'm afraid I must ask you to hand over your weapons before we can escort you to your quarters. You won't be needing them while you're with us." He'd anticipated this. The la'quo pellet gun, broken down into its innocent-looking component parts, was stowed in various locations throughout his bag. He was confident that neither it, nor the pellets concealed inside a jar of tooth cleaning paste, would be discovered. The spray he'd left lying in a drawer of personal items in his cabin, hoping by its very anonymity it would pass any search.

"We're prisoners, then," he said, reaching for the gun that he carried in plain view on his weapons' belt.

Lieutenant M'zynal looked slightly shocked, his bifurcated tongue flicking out briefly. "Not to my knowledge, Captain. On the contrary, we've been told to treat you with all courtesy. Even we don't normally go armed on the N'zishok."

His companion gestured two of the M'zullian guards forward to take their weapons.

"Knives, too," Shartoh said as he watched them hand over their firearms. "You understand, I'm sure, that we'll have to search you and your luggage once we reach your quarters."

Dzaou let out an exclamation of rage, silenced only when Kusac raised his hand warningly. "Our knives aren't considered weapons," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "They're eating utensils and the badge of our graduation from the Brotherhood itself. We won't remove them."

Shartoh hesitated, looking to M'zynal for instructions.

"Will you give me your oath they'll not be used as weapons?" the young Prime asked.

Kusac stepped forward, holding his palm up in front of the startled Lieutenant's face, and tensed his fingers. Five claws, each nearly two inches long, almost as sharp on the inner curve as they were pointed at the tip, slid out from their sheathings in his fingers.

Startled, the Prime nevertheless held his ground.

"You think we need knives, Lieutenant M'zynal?" he asked, a faint purr underlying the words. The claws retracted, his fingers relaxed and were once again a hand. "No more than you do."

"You may keep your knives," M'zynal said, his voice betraying only a slight quiver. "As you rightly reminded me, we both have formidable enough natural weapons. However, we'll still need to search you and your belongings once we reach your quarters." He indicated the elevator at the far end of the landing bay. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you where you'll be staying for the next few days until we reach our base."

Copyright © 2003 by Lisanne Norman