Bringer of Light

by Jaine Fenn

  There would be hell to pay later, of course; there always was, one way or another.

  When the suit put him through, Jarek responded at once, ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been playing at down there but we need to go, now!’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry; I’ll explain later. Nual’s ready and so’m I. Just start the countdown: we’re on our way.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Jarek addressed the floor in a slurred whisper: ‘We really mus’ stop meetin’ like this.’ At least he hadn’t thrown up this time, though he thought he recalled the memorable sensation of all his internal organs making a bid for freedom from the nearest available orifice, shortly before his consciousness gave up trying to make sense of the senseless. He performed the usual post-shiftspace inventory of body-parts – everything was still more or less in working order – then made the long climb back up to vertical.

  He’d been worried this transit would be even worse than the journey out to Aleph – after all, no one had ever made a transit direct from Aleph to Serenein. It had been bad, but it could have been worse. Either that or he’d managed to pass out before experiencing the worst bits.

  He got to work restarting the ship’s systems. Unlike normal transits, he didn’t worry too much about coms; it wasn’t as though anyone would be contacting them out here. Once he was confident the essential systems – life-support and the in-system drive – were green and everything else was on its way up, he eased himself out of his seat and made his way off the bridge.

  Taro and Nual lay sprawled against the drive column. They were both unconscious. ‘Oh shit,’ muttered Jarek. He ducked round the ladder and bent down to make sure they weren’t actually dead.

  Taro was still wearing the hi-tech Alephan v-suit and lifter-harness, so he checked Nual out first. Yep, still breathing. She had a raw patch on the back of one hand and a bruise coming out on her cheek; neither looked serious.

  He turned his attention to Taro. It took him a moment to work out how to unseal the suit – thank Christos the boy hadn’t thrown up while they’d been in shiftspace. When he did manage to peel the helmet back he was greeted with a deeply unpleasant smell and decided it was probably best to leave Taro in the suit until he was capable of taking a shower.

  Neither of them were showing any signs of coming round, so Jarek fetched the portable diagnostic unit from the medbay to find out how serious their injuries were. The results of the scan were reassuring: they were exhausted and physically stressed, but not in any immediate danger and neither had any significant injuries— No, scratch that. He ran the scanner over Taro again. Something had happened to his right hand; from the readouts it looked a bit like vacuum-burn. He couldn’t see any rips in the suit; perhaps it was able to reseal itself? But the diagnostic wasn’t quite what he’d expect to see for flesh exposed to space; it was more like neural damage. Not that he could do much about it without removing the suit, and that meant removing the lifter-harness first, a task that was beyond him right now. He decided Taro’s hand wasn’t going to get any worse if it went untreated for a few hours.

  He added a dose of analgesic to the mix the scanner recommended, then administered shots to the pair of them. He wasn’t up to moving them, so he put them in a position where they wouldn’t choke if they threw up when they came around, then tucked a thermal blanket around them.

  After that, he crawled off to get some rest.

  Jarek slept for twelve hours straight, and woke to find Nual already up and about. Taro was semi-conscious, but she’d managed to get him out of the lifter-harness and onto the medbay couch, and had peeled his suit down far enough to uncover his hand. Jarek shuddered: the flesh looked like it had been boiled. His palm, hardened by the Angel mods, was untouched, and the edge of the damaged area was oddly precise, a perfect line around his wrist, stopping just short of the bloodless slash of his blade-sheath.

  ‘Good to see you,’ said Jarek to Nual. She still looked pretty rough. ‘Are you well enough to sort Taro out by yourself?’

  ‘I am. I was about to put a triage glove over his hand. The medbay also recommends we keep him sedated for the next few hours.’

  ‘Good idea. Don’t suppose you know how he came by that injury?’

  ‘Actually I do, although I don’t know why.’ She didn’t sound eager to share.

  ‘I need to get back up to the bridge. Come and update me when you’re done here.’

  The Heart of Glass had re-entered realspace at the same relative location as the first time he’d come here, when he’d been slipstreaming the Setting Sun. That put them well out of range of the single inhabited world’s defences, and the course Jarek had programmed before he’d slept took them even further away, to the Trojan point in the planet’s orbit: beacons usually trailed the world they served at safe distance. He made some final course adjustments and ran a quick systems check. He should have time for a caf before they reached their destination.

  A familiar smell greeted him as he came down the ladder. ‘I was going to say you read my mind,’ he said to Nual as he walked over to the section of the rec-room given over to the galley, ‘But in your case . . .’

  She smiled at him. ‘No arcane powers are required to work out when you need a caf, Jarek.’

  As they sat at the table sipping their drinks, Jarek noticed the dressing on Nual’s hand. ‘That was where you wore your com wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. The males destroyed it so it couldn’t be used to trace me. And I imagine they put me in stasis to stop me contacting Taro – and to keep me out of the way until they needed me.’

  ‘Did Taro have time to fill you in on what they were up to?’

  ‘From what I’ve worked out, they were either going to dissect my brain to find out what makes me tick, or else keep me on ice for use in a beacon.’

  ‘In a beacon? How—?’

  ‘That’s how beacons are made, apparently: they are some sort of unholy combination of male and female Sidhe consciousnesses.’

  ‘My God – and there’re nearly a thousand beacons in human-space. Fuck.’

  ‘Quite. We went into this knowing we were walking a fine line with the Aleph males; if I’d known about my potential use as a beacon component I’d never have gone there!’

  ‘No shit! But if they wanted you, why didn’t they kidnap you while we were on the hab? Unless they were initially going to cooperate, then something changed their mind . . .’

  Nual frowned at her drink. ‘I think you’re right, and the logical conclusion is that it was something I did or said – most likely, it was because I admitted to having prescient abilities.’

  ‘I wonder why they gave me the beacon and let me fly off after they took you. Without you, I was stuck at Aleph.’

  ‘They were following the letter of the law – or rather, they were following a ruling by the Consensus: the one unifying factor that stops Aleph falling apart is the objectivity and ubiquity of the Consensus. Once the males agree on something in Consensus, that decision cannot be gainsaid unless they have reached a new decision – also in Consensus – that overturns it. It was on record that you were to get your beacon, and Taro was to be returned to you. They did that. They subsequently decided that I was to be detained, but that didn’t change the earlier ruling. Having said that, I suspect your fate was being debated in the Consensus even as you and Taro were getting me out. They wouldn’t have let you remain at large for long.’

  ‘I’ll bet. I think it’s safe to say I won’t be going back to Aleph in a hurry.’

  ‘Me neither.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Hindsight is a lot more reliable than foresight.’

  Jarek smiled. ‘Ah, you mean that old chestnut about seers not seeing something momentous coming?’

  ‘That would be the one. I imagine it’s as old as Sidhe abilities, perhaps older.’

  Nual was troubled, he could tell. ‘Is there something else you want to tell me?’ he asked gently.

  She pulled a face, the one she made when she
was annoyed at herself. ‘I had another flash, as I was getting Taro out of his suit.’

  ‘I’m guessing it was as vague and unhelpful as they usually are?’

  ‘You guess correctly: it was something to do with his part in things – something he’s done, or is about to do—’ She shook her head. ‘Pah! Anyone who thinks precognition is a gift should try living with it. It’s a wretched curse.’

  Jarek had no answer for that, so he took a sip of his caf.

  Nual did the same, then said, ‘You wanted to know how Taro was hurt?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a weird injury.’

  ‘I believe it may have come from putting his hand through a powerful forceshield.’

  ‘Why the hell would he do something like that?’

  ‘I think he tried to touch the beacon.’

  ‘He tried to what? Are you sure?’

  ‘Not completely. His mind was somewhat garbled.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to ask him when he wakes up.’ Jarek checked his com. ‘We’re almost in position. I should get back to the bridge.’

  ‘Can I be of any use?’

  ‘No, just rest up, and keep an eye on Taro. And don’t go anywhere near the cargo-hold, obviously.’

  While the Heart of Glass decelerated, Jarek took a few minutes to review the footage from the cargo-hold. Looked like Nual was right: Taro had fiddled with his suit, then walked up and put his hand through the force-cage. He’d been thrown back against the bulkhead immediately afterwards.

  Jarek switched the camera to real-time feed. The beacon looked brighter than before its passage through shiftspace, but otherwise apparently unchanged. He located the control-box for the force-cage; the Alephans had warned him that once the beacon had been activated by passing through shiftspace he’d have to control the cage from up here. They had also assured him that the remote would work fine up to several hundred klicks, but Jarek wasn’t inclined to trust them. He was relieved when his attempt to activate the force-cage resulted in it rising gently off the floor of the cargo-hold. ‘Let’s get you off my ship, you scary little bastard,’ he muttered.

  He made a few practice moves, getting used to driving the cage with only the on-screen view for feedback. Then he set the ship’s forceshield to full and opened the doors.

  He took his time getting the cage out of his hold; a mistake now might still be fatal, and after all they’d been through to get the damn beacon, that would really piss him off.

  Finally, when the external camera showed the glowing cube at rest outside the ship and the cargo-hold doors were safely closed, he breathed freely.

  He moved the ship off slowly, keeping an eye on the beacon. He’d reached five hundred klicks when the remote beeped to warn him it was about to lose signal. Jarek powered down the cage, then accelerated away.

  So: beacon installed. He only hoped he’d done the right thing. The final stage was to link the beacon into the beevee network; until then, it remained invisible to the rest of the universe. Even as he thought that, the incoming com light blinked. What the fuck? He reached out to accept the call, only to have the light go out. What was that about? He interrogated the log and discovered that the incoming message had gone straight to Taro’s com. He checked the message-tag: there wasn’t one. That was impossible – then again, with the beacon outside the beevee network, getting any sort of message other than a direct call from the planet should be impossible. And this message had definitely come from out of system.

  He needed to talk to Taro.

  When he got down to the medbay he found Nual in the process of waking the boy up. He strode over and said, ‘Can you hear me, Taro?’

  Taro’s eyes opened to slits, and he looked at Jarek with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

  Nual responded, ‘He’s still a bit groggy.’ she added silently.

  Jarek nodded to show he understood, then said out loud, ‘Everything’s fine, Taro. I just need to look at your com.’ He lifted the boy’s left wrist and accepted the pending call.

  It was a succinct text message, just two words: Thank you.

  ‘Now I’m really confused,’ Jarek muttered.

  He looked at Nual. She bent over Taro, then pressed a hand to the side of his face. After a few seconds he started and opened his eyes fully. Nual eased him up into a sitting position, half supporting him. ‘Was that a message?’ he asked shakily.

  ‘Yes. Someone wants to thank you. Any idea who, or for what?’

  Taro’s face broke into a weary grin. ‘It’s Vy.’

  ‘Vy? You said he was dead!’

  ‘He is, sorta,’ Taro said, ‘but he’s also in the beacon. And the beacon . . . that’s linked to Khesh.’

  ‘You’re saying that’s who’s thanking you? Khesh?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think it’s time you explained exactly what you did, Taro,’ Jarek said, trying to keep his voice calm.

  They listened silently to Taro’s story.

  Jarek couldn’t be angry at the boy – he’d done a brave and honourable thing, and it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had the chance to tell anyone what he was planning. If he had, they’d have had to agree with him.

  When Taro finished he asked, ‘So now this beacon has a one-to-one link with Khesh, is that right?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘And this is something independent of the beevee network, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, reckon so.’

  ‘And if you hadn’t succeeded, the one-to-one link would be to whichever Aleph male imprinted on it?’

  ‘Yeah, it would – it could still have been, but Vy must have been stronger, and he came out on top.’

  ‘I’m not sure what the Aleph males thought they’d gain by having one of their own linked to the beacon – unless they’ve got shiftships we don’t know about and they wanted a route to Serenein.’

  ‘It might have been nothing more than a desire to thwart Khesh,’ suggested Nual.

  ‘Those fuckers do like their pissing contests, don’t they?’ said Taro.

  ‘Yeah, but what matters is that they failed. We’ve got our beacon. Now we need to head in to Serenein and share the good news.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Although Kerin was desperate to leave the dungeon, she was faced once more with the banality of evil: this was not a part of the Tyr she knew, and without Urien to guide her she was likely to get lost. The last thing they needed was the Cariad wandering aimlessly around the lower reaches of the Tyr.

  After she had calmed down, she stood for a while in the squalid cell, wondering how much had really changed. When she returned to her rooms she would be dealing with the same problems she had woken up to this morning. Above them, the night would be drawing on: the people of her world would be at home with their families, putting their children to bed, talking about the day with their spouses, living their small, ordinary lives as best they could, oblivious of what went on here. Most of them, anyway. One family, however—

  She looked up at a scraping sound. Urien was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Is he—?’ she began, seeing the expression on his face.

  Urien nodded.

  ‘What have we done, Urien?’

  ‘Let us return to your room before we discuss this further.’

  On the way back, she received the expected respect from the few priests they encountered, which only made her feel worse. She could not shake the conviction that her fraudulent status had somehow become detectable to everyone she met.

  Damaru was still out. Kerin got herself a drink, and offered Urien one. He accepted, and they sat down.

  Then Urien said, ‘To answer your question, I have made a mistake. Captain Siarl was innocent.’

  ‘Did he have children?’ She had to know.

  ‘Two boys, I believe.’

  ‘You had to spread lies about him too, did you not?’ It was not an accusation; her earlier anger a
nd frustration at Urien had evaporated, driven out by what she had witnessed. She needed to grasp the full implications of the night’s foul work.

  ‘Aye; we could not detain a monitor captain without giving a reason. When I checked his record I found that he was once accused of taking a bribe. It was the only irregularity, and I suspect the accusation was baseless, possibly even an act of malice. But it allowed me to put out a story that he was taken into custody today to answer charges of selling Tyr secrets to a subversive organisation.’

  ‘What organisation? Please do not tell me you have been keeping the existence of such a threat from me!’

  ‘The organisation in question does not exist, Kerin. In fact, I have yet to find the time to invent a name for it.’

  ‘More lies,’ she sighed. ‘The further we go, the deeper we are caught in them.’

  ‘Aye. I fear you are right. If I thought I could trust the other Escorai . . .’

  ‘You told me you chose the best men for the job.’

  ‘I thought I did, and in most cases I still believe that, but I do not see us being able to take any of them into our confidence in the foreseeable future. I simply cannot know how they would react.’

  ‘I did not know how you would react when I returned from “Heaven” and told you how we had been lied to.’

  ‘True enough. It was a brave act, Kerin; do not think I have forgotten that.’

  His praise made her self-conscious, and she changed the subject. ‘You knew I would insist on watching the interrogation, did you not?’

  ‘I was not sure, though I strongly suspected it. I do know that if I had gone ahead without telling you what I was doing, you would never have forgiven me.’