Razor's Edge Page 9

  He growled deep in his throat. Memories. He wanted none of them! His mind was playing tricks on him, hiding something from him. Why had Vartra reached out from the past and touched him in his new life? Why couldn’t He have left him alone? He laughed, knowing the sound wasn’t pleasant even as he made it. The life of a renegade hadn’t been so bad. There had been no feelings, no memories to hurt and plague him, until Garras had contacted him. And no alien female to … what?

  Flinging himself down on his bed, he pulled the cover over himself. He winced slightly as a fold caught on the edge of his right hand where his smallest finger had been. Ghezu. There were times when he woke with the smell of his own freshly spilled blood in his nostrils and the memory of Ghezu holding him upright by the hair. But Ghezu was dead. He’d personally killed him.

  The memory wouldn’t leave him though. If I have to cut the information from you an inch at a time, I’ll do it. He could hear his voice, smell his scent. The room seemed to darken around him as he struggled to break free of the memory and the fear.

  Another rushed up on him, banishing the first. Noni.

  There will be cubs, Tallinu, prepare yourself for that. Your cubs. I saw them before, and I’ve seen them since.

  “Not if I can help it,” he growled, pushing himself up and lifting his head and shaking it in an effort to dispel the memory of her words. “Not if I can help it, you old crone! Not even if Vartra Himself orders it!”

  Vartra. The God had used him—for what? He tried to remember, but it was becoming difficult to think straight. Half a lifetime of service to Him in return for … betrayal.

  Betrayal? Harsh words, Tallinu. He knew the voice—knew it only too well. What is one when balanced against the future of a species?

  Once more the beginnings of fear rushed through him, and determinedly he pushed them back.

  “You’re not a God. You’re a male, no different from me!” His voice was low but intense in his anger.

  I was. Who do you think speaks to you? How do I, dead these thousand and more years, speak to you if I’m not a God?

  “Varza! He was the God, not you!”

  Gently mocking laughter echoed inside his head as he put his hands up to his ears. “I won’t listen to you any more, Vartra! It’s over! I’ve done what you asked!”

  Varza once lived, too. He was fragmented, first by the collapse of His Temple, then by His monastery. The people wouldn’t let me sleep. They used Him to see me, Tallinu. They disturbed my peace, condemning me to live on, to exist without rest till I am as you know me now.

  Kaid looked frantically round the room. “I’m imagining this,” he growled. “You aren’t real!” He began to shiver and cautiously let go of his head to pull the cover up again.

  Not real? Look at me! A sigh sounded in his ears as he shut his eyes, afraid to look. What’s real, Tallinu? You helped create me! You and the generations of worshipers who demanded that I be there for them! You are my link to the future and the past, Tallinu. I cannot release you. Our work is not yet done. Look at me!

  He could feel the cold seeping into the room, making him shiver till his teeth began to chatter, chilling him to the very soul.

  Look at me! The voice sounded loudly in his ears. He could smell the scent of the nung incense, of the world of the Margins.

  He opened his eyes, afraid of what might happen if he didn’t. Before him, at the foot of his bed, stood the image of the God. He sucked his breath in, trying not to cry out in terror. It was Vartra, the Vartra of the Margins, but dressed in traditional Warrior gear, complete with the two swords held in the back-slung harnesses. Gods! He was hallucinating! He really was losing his mind.

  The soft laugh, mocking yet not unkind. A male like you, lose your mind? I hope not, Tallinu. You, one day, will find peace. But not until our work is finished; we have our people to save. Trust, Tallinu. Now you must really trust me! Remember this meeting, remember what I’ve told you.

  He watched, frozen in fear, as the apparition turned. Beyond it a flicker of light shone, and it was toward this that Vartra seemed to walk. A few steps and he was gone. In his head Kaid heard the echo of the God’s last words as he lost consciousness.

  Remember this meeting.

  He woke to feel a hand shaking his arm. He hadn’t the strength to do more than let out a strangled cry before the light came on and he saw it was T’Chebbi. He lay there shivering convulsively as she leaned over him and took hold of his hand.

  “Excuse,” she said apologetically, reaching for his neck and placing her hand against his pulse. “You’re burning up.” She pulled the cover aside to feel his robe. “You went to bed damp,” she said, frowning. “No wonder you have a fever.”

  He lay there watching as she went to the bathing room and returned with a large towel. It hurt to breathe and his joints ached. All he wanted to do was lie still till he felt better. Pulling him upright despite his feeble protests, she efficiently stripped off his robe and began to towel him briskly.

  “Standing in snow for so long, then sleeping in damp clothes. You trying to die, Kaid?” she demanded, lowering him back to the bed. “Easier ways!” She left him and went to the wardrobe to fetch another woolen robe. Flinging it over the bed, she took hold of him and began to pull his legs off the bed until they touched the floor.

  “Get up,” she ordered. “Put robe on. I fetch Vanna.”

  At last he felt impelled to make the effort to speak. “No,” he said hoarsely. “Not Vanna. She’s got a cub, too. Take me to Jack.”

  She looked at him in disgust. “You mad? Take you out in this state? You die for sure!”

  “No. Must leave. Mustn’t give it to them or the cub,” he insisted, taking hold of the robe with shaking hands. He knew without doubt that this time he was beyond dosing himself. “Take me, T’Chebbi.”

  She made a dismissive sound and turned to leave.

  He caught hold of her. “T’Chebbi, I must leave here. This fever’s dangerous, I know it! Could kill Kashini. Trust me!”

  She searched his face, then nodded slowly. “Very well.” She helped him get to his feet and put on his robe.

  “Tell Jack, cleanse the room,” he said, keeping his head turned from her as slowly they began to make for the door. “You must be isolated, too. Jack won’t get it, nor any Humans except Leskas.”

  She grunted. “How you know so much? If you so sensible, why stand in snow?”

  “Cold helps reduce the temperature. Tell Jack that, too.” He leaned against her, trying not to cough as they made their way slowly toward the staircase.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were knocking on the door of Jack’s private quarters in the medical unit.

  “God Almighty … What’s up with him?” Jack demanded, flinging his door wide open.

  “Fever,” said T’Chebbi, supporting the almost unconscious Kaid. “Said bring him here. Contagious to Sholans and Human Leskas. He’s burning up, Physician.”

  Jack ran his hands through his hair, thinking rapidly. “Take him to the ward on this level,” he said. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

  “Where?”

  “Back the way you came, second door on your left. Take the first room you come to and get him into bed.” He turned back into his room then stopped. “Get that robe off him. Can you take his temperature?”

  T’Chebbi raised an eye ridge. “I’m a paramedic,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

  Jack hurried into his bedroom and hastily got dressed, cursing himself briefly for assuming that because T’Chebbi used words sparingly, she wasn’t the equal of any other Brotherhood member.

  When he joined T’Chebbi in the single room, she silently held out the diagnostic unit to show him Kaid’s temperature.

  “He said use ice,” she said. “Was more lucid than I thought.”

  Jack went over to the wall-mounted comm and called the medic on duty. “We’ve got a fever patient. I need as much ice as you can get and as fast as you can get it. Get buckets and collect sn
ow if you have to. I’m in room five.” He turned back to T’Chebbi. “Right. What d’you know about this? What kind of fever is it?”

  “None I know,” she said. “He kept saying Carrie knows.”

  “Use the comm. Wake them and find out what you can,” he said, going over to where Kaid lay on the bed. He pulled back the thin sheet that T’Chebbi had used to cover him, then proceeded to open both the windows.

  “We’ll have to put up with the cold until the ice arrives,” he said. “Unless we get his temperature down fast, he could go into convulsions.”

  Bleary eyed, Kusac answered the comm. “T’Chebbi, what is it?” Then he saw the hospital room behind her. “What’s happened?” he demanded, instantly awake.

  “Kaid has a fever,” she said. “Serious. One he says you and Liegena could catch. Says Liegena knows what the fever is.”

  “Carrie knows? How could she know? Are you sure it isn’t the fever talking?”

  She shook her head. “Not. Ask Liegena. Temperature dangerously high. She knows, he says.”

  “I’ll get her.” He left the lounge and returned to the bedroom at a run. Carrie was already half out of bed.

  “I picked it up,” she said, pulling on an overrobe and hurrying into the lounge. “T’Chebbi, Kaid says I know the fever. Did he say how?”

  “No. Only other things he said was ice. He wants ice to lower his temperature. Says only Sholans and Human Leskas can catch it.”

  Kusac watched Carrie turn white and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Gods, no!”

  “What?” he demanded, grabbing hold of her and turning her round to face him. “What is it?”

  “The fever! The first fever he never caught! Vartra’s serum! He must have caught it while we were in the Margins!”

  “The dream you had! That’s got to be it! T’Chebbi, let me speak to Jack.” He waited impatiently till Jack came to the screen. “Jack, back in the past, Vartra used a strain of ni’uzu to carry his genetic enhancements. It triggered a fever, but it was stronger than normal. It raised the temperature to the point where some patients suffered convulsions and brain damage. A lot of them died. You’ve got to bring his temperature down!”

  “I intend to, lad, don’t worry,” said Jack, glancing over his shoulder. “The ice has just arrived, I’ve got to go.”

  Carrie pushed Kusac aside. “I’m coming over, Jack,” she said. “The fever is a stronger variant of the one we caught. We should be immune.”

  “You’ll come nowhere near the center, Carrie,” he said sternly. “It’s under quarantine as of now.”

  “Jack!”

  “You’ve got a young baby to care for, lass. If you catch it, then I’ve three patients to care for instead of one! Now let me get on.”

  “Jack, he’ll get violent,” she said. “Rezac did. He may need to be restrained.”

  “What did they do with Rezac?”

  “He had a Leska. They put her beside him. Jack, don’t let him die!”

  “I’ll do my best, lass. Now, I must go.” The screen blanked out.

  “Kaid’s had the modern fever, Carrie. He should have some resistance to this one,” said Kusac, putting his arms round her.

  “I hope so. God, I do hope so,” she said, letting him lead her back to their bedroom.

  “T’Chebbi, you’re going to get yourself settled in the room next door,” said Jack as he and the medic, now wearing face masks, began to pack the snow around Kaid’s still form. “You’ve been exposed, so I want you isolated, too. With any luck, you might not have caught it.”

  “I’m staying. I’ll help,” she said firmly, helping herself to a mask. “If I have it, then nothing now will stop it. Must take a week to incubate since they’ve been back that long.” She picked up the empty buckets. “You stay with him. I get more snow.”

  “Let her, Doctor Reynolds,” said the medic. “It’s the dead of night, no one’s about. One we’ve got him packed in ice and his temperature starts to drop, then we can all get into bio-suits. It makes little difference if the Sister helps, so long as she isolates herself from Sholan telepaths.”

  Jack began to mutter imprecations. “I suppose you’re right. We could do with talking to Vanna as well. Her firsthand knowledge of the modern virus will be of great help.”

  “She’ll be safe enough once we’ve set the room up as a quarantined zone.”

  “Very well. How’s his temperature doing?”

  “Falling slowly.”

  “Put the sheet over him again. We’ll try a layer of snow over that and see if it’s enough. I want that temperature down fast!”

  Half-formed images haunted Rezac, making it difficult to know what was real and what was not. Voices faded one minute and were amplified the next as he moved restlessly in his bed. The sheets were pulling at his fur, pushing it against the lie, making each follicle burn with discomfort. Every movement hurt his joints, yet he had to try and move away from the pressure of the sheet.

  He dreamed he was made of fire, a fire that burned from deep within him. He opened his eyes only to see beams of flame streaming from them. Devastation followed his gaze, burning and searing everything around. Fear touched him then, his own fear, and instinctively he fought against it, lashing out at it with taloned hands until he was held down forcibly.

  “Get that wound dressed immediately,” Dr. Nyaam ordered as the nurse staggered back holding his slashed and bleeding forearm. Nyaam continued to fasten Rezac’s limbs to the bed frame as Goran grabbed for the arm that he’d managed to pull free. Maro held on grimly to the other limb until Nyaam had finished, then began picking up the scattered ice packs and replacing them around Rezac’s body.

  “This’ll only make him struggle more,” said Goran dispassionately.

  “I hardly think you’re qualified to give a medical opinion,” said Nyaam, moving beside the security chief. “He’s as much a danger to himself as to us in this state.”

  “I know my people, Nyaam, which is more than you do. You sent for me because you couldn’t control him. I’ve told you already, put the female in his bed.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish,” the doctor snapped. “Look at what he did to my nurse! One blow from him and his Leska would be dead. Then we’d lose them both.”

  “He’d quiet down,” said Goran. “He’d know she was there and he’d stop fighting. They’re linked mentally, right? So why’re you treating them separately? What have you got to lose, Nyaam? At this rate they’ll both die. You can’t get their temperatures down, and he’s exhausting himself by fighting your restraints.”

  “If he weren’t so violent, I might consider it, but look at him,” said Nyaam.

  Rezac, already pulling frantically at the restraining bands, had lifted his head as high as he could and was leaning over trying to snap at those holding his wrists.

  “We haven’t got a bed wide enough for both of them, even if I was prepared to countenance the risk,” Nyaam added.

  “I told you it would make him worse,” said Goran, stepping back to allow Maro in to replace the ice packs. “He’s a warrior, Nyaam. Restrain him, and he’ll fight all the harder against it. That’s going to give him convulsions faster than a high temperature.”

  “Goran’s right,” said Vartra abruptly. “Try it. We’ve nothing to lose. If we can’t get their temperatures down within the next hour, Rezac is certainly going to go into convulsions.”

  “I’m telling you, he’ll kill her,” said Nyaam, looking over to where Dr. Kimin was beginning to unfasten Zashou’s bonds. The young female was lying semicomatose and panting, having exhausted herself with her own struggles.

  “Fix the two beds together,” said Dr. Kimin. “Use the restraint straps, anything. We know nothing about these new Leska pairs. We’ve all seen how Zashou’s condition has paralleled Rezac’s, something that doesn’t happen with normal Leskas. For all we know, we could be making the situation worse by keeping them apart.”

  Maro pushed Zashou’s bed over beside Rezac’s whi
le the other nurse took the restraints from Dr. Kimin and dived under the beds to lash the legs together.

  “I’m advising you to keep the restraints on Rezac for the moment,” said Nyaam. “I think you’re taking a foolish risk, and I refuse to help you. However, I’ve no doubt you’re going to ignore my opinion.”

  Goran began moving the ice packs from what was now the middle of one large bed, making room for Zashou to be placed beside Rezac. The sheet, dried out by his body heat, was taken off him and as he flinched away from contact with the others, he lurched briefly against Zashou. He froze, then as Zashou was moved closer so the contact was maintained, his body went into spasm.

  “What did I tell you?” demanded Nyaam, grabbing his hypo off the treatment trolley behind them. “Just touching her has made him worse! Give her an anticonvulsant before she starts, too! Hold him still for the God’s sake,” he said, trying to get a grip on Rezac.

  Goran took hold of Rezac’s head. “Hold his arm,” he ordered Maro.

  Nyaam stuck the needle in Rezac’s arm while the two males held him as still as possible.

  Almost as they watched, the spasms that wracked his body began to diminish until suddenly, Rezac relaxed and lay there limp and panting, his tongue partially protruding from his mouth.

  “Give him some water, Layul,” said Dr. Kimin, leaning forward to unfasten the restraints.

  Nyaam frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, reaching out to stop her. “You should be moving the female away! That’s what started the convulsions!”

  “For the God’s sake, Nyaam, look at his wrists!” she said, batting his hand aside with one of hers. “The leather has already lacerated him, he’s bleeding. Goran’s right, Rezac can’t help but fight against your restraints. That’s what made him convulse, not Zashou! Do something useful, pass me the dressings,” she added. “We’re working blind with these two, we’ve no idea what will help them since they’re not responding to our treatment like any of the other telepaths. They’re suffering identical symptoms, as if they were one person, not two.” She took the dressings that Goran held out.