Guardians of Paradise (Hidden Empire)

by Jaine Fenn

  Alone again, Nual considered Lyrian’s offer. It sounded almost reasonable: tell us everything we ask and you will be forgiven, your past wiped clean. You will be allowed to take your rightful place amongst your people.

  Nual knew Lyrian had not coerced her - if she could do that, then she would be free to read her, rather than having to resort to the clumsy human method of communication. No, the attraction of Lyrian’s offer came down to simple logic, combined with Nual’s own feelings about her flight from her people. ‘We’re not looking for blame,’ Lyrian had said, ‘just explanations. We know the events on the mothership must have been traumatic for you.’

  Lyrian was right about that. The memory of those few days, when her life changed for ever, still haunted her in her dreams, quite possibly influencing her decisions in ways she was not always able to identify. Nual wondered how much Lyrian already knew. When Jarek rescued her, the mothership had been dead in space, its transit-kernel burnt out. The Sidhe must have found it, presumably as a result of information extracted from Jarek’s mind. If the mothership’s comp had survived - and there was no reason to suspect it hadn’t - Lyrian would know of Nual’s rebellion and subsequent imprisonment. She wondered what else they’d found when they boarded the wreck. When Nual left, most of the others on board were already dead and she herself had barely escaped the influence of that strange, appalling contagion that had driven them to turn on each other. Even now she shied away from that memory.

  Part of her wanted to tell Lyrian what little she knew, even though admitting her role in the downfall of the mothership might damn her in her sisters’ eyes. At least then she could start to deal with her terrible mistake.

  It was Lyrian’s other questions that she was not willing to answer: what Nual had done since leaving her people, who she had had dealings with - by which Lyrian meant: who knew the Sidhe were still abroad and wielding power? Nual had no doubt that her people would hunt down and eliminate any threats to their secret hold over humanity. The Sidhe already knew about Jarek, and poor Elarn was dead now, thanks to her.

  But Taro . . .

  In some ways love complicated everything. But it made certain decisions effortlessly simple. She would die before she betrayed Taro.

  She had tried to avoid thinking of her lover because to do so caused an almost physical pain. But now she wondered if her failure to communicate with him was down to nothing more sinister than simple timing. She had designated the current time ‘about midday’ in her head because she had been awake for several hours, but she had no idea what the true time was back on Kama Nui. Taro might well be in a receptive state again now; she should have another go at contacting him.

  She lay on the bed and prepared to put herself into a trance. First she shut off the distracting signals from her raw throat and sour, shrunken stomach. Then she slowed her breathing and heart-rate. Though she was familiar with the use of trance she had never done anything quite like this: trying to enter an active dream-state whilst awake, and at the same time attempting to establish a link whose nature she barely understood.

  She found her remaining physical sensations falling away.

  This was a riskier proposition than true sleep. She sensed the unity, waiting on the edge of consciousness.

  She braced herself, ready to withdraw, or fight.

  The waiting presences did nothing. Perhaps they could not exploit this state after all. Either that or, for fear of her taint, they did not want to risk direct confrontation.

  Because this was not a true dream, the contact would have to take a different form. She focused directly on Taro, homing in on him through the paths of her memory. She recalled his voice, his touch, the smell of him. The experience was sensual, almost erotic, and she was half tempted to lose herself in it, to escape her current situation in a happy daydream . . . but no, that would be no more than a temporary respite.

  She honed her recollections, moving away from the physical to the less quantifiable: the feel of his mind, the flavour of his soul.

  At first she thought she was merely slipping into a true, deep - and fruitless - sleep. Then she sensed him.

  And she felt him sense her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Jarek’s body-clock was still messed up after his transit marathon, and despite his late night he woke early.

  He wondered how Bez was doing. No news was probably good news. She’d tell him when she’d cracked the core.

  Thinking of her reminded him that he’d forgotten to check the decryption routine last night. The quietly pinging comp on the bridge indicated that Tawhira-ngai’s data had been unlocked, as he had hoped.

  Jarek sat down and started to read. The files weren’t big, but there was a fair bit of corporate crap and scientific jargon to wade through, so it took him a while to work out why the ngai had wanted an Angel. When he did, he reread the relevant section to be sure, then breathed, ‘Holy shit,’ and jumped up.

  Taro was still asleep, sprawled across the couch in wanton in-elegance. As Jarek approached he saw the boy’s eyes moving under their lids. He reached out and shook him, gently but firmly, at the same time calling his name.

  For a moment Jarek thought Taro wasn’t going to wake up. Then he gasped, opened his eyes wide and tried to thrust Jarek away.

  ‘Easy!’ said Jarek, grabbing one of Taro’s hands. ‘It’s all right, you’re safe now.’

  ‘No!’ Taro blinked rapidly, batting at Jarek. ‘No, I have to—’

  ‘Have to what?’ Jarek realised Taro wasn’t properly conscious; his movements were jerky, his eyes unfocused.

  ‘Have to . . . gotta go back. She’s here.’ He looked at Jarek and his expression fell. ‘She’s gone,’ he said, his voice devastated.

  ‘“She” as in Nual?’

  Taro nodded miserably. ‘I felt her, reaching out,’ he said woozily. ‘We were close, so close. But . . . gone now.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Jarek. ‘Sorry. I had no idea.’

  For a moment neither of them said anything, then in a sad, mildly accusatory voice, Taro said, ‘Why’d you wake me anyway?’

  ‘I’ve decrypted the files we stole from Tawhira-ngai. I know what they wanted with you.’

  Taro sat up groggily. ‘That’s more than I do,’ he said.

  ‘So you don’t know what zepgen is, then?’

  Taro shook his head. ‘Never heard of it. Or them. Sounds a bit like one of them topside alt-metal bands back in Khesh.’

  Jarek knew the boy was trying to lighten the mood - which made the conversation they needed to have even more difficult. ‘Listen, why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get the caf on. We can talk about it after you’ve had a chance to wake up properly.’

  ‘All right.’ Taro’s voice had some of that old sulkiness Jarek recalled from when they first met, but this time he couldn’t entirely blame the boy.

  After his morning ablutions, Taro accepted a mug of caf and sat down opposite Jarek. He still looked half-asleep. ‘So,’ he said, ‘what’s this zepgen stuff then?’

  ‘It’s a very unusual, very potent power source. Zepgen is a lost technology; if it existed at all it was probably created by the male Sidhe.’

  ‘And what’s that gotta do with me?’

  Jarek thought he detected a note of uneasiness under Taro’s apparent indifference. ‘According to the files we lifted, you’ve got a zepgen system inside you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something must be powering your implants, and there isn’t anywhere in that skinny body of yours to hide a fusion plant. I’d wondered about it myself, though the topic never came up. But apparently your gravitics are powered by zepgen. The system was implanted in your body along with the grav-tech, and that’s what Tawhira-ngai were after.’

  Taro leaned back, as though worried about catching such a bizarre idea. ‘You sure you got the right file?’ he said, his voice somewhere between uneasiness and mockery.

  ‘Well, Tawhira-ngai believed it enough to kidnap you and cut yo
u open.’

  ‘And what’d they find?’ He looked down at himself, as though he expected to be able to see the alien tech.

  ‘They used both scans and surgery and in the end they discovered several extremely small implants inserted into your ribs and lower spine.’

  ‘But they didn’t . . . they didn’t get them out, did they? I mean, I can still fly.’ Taro’s hand was fluttering over his stomach. With some effort he looked up and put both hands on the table, trying to steady himself.

  ‘No, they didn’t remove the zepgen generator.’

  ‘I guess I’d have died if they had.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Jarek softly, ‘that wasn’t what they were worried about. They decided there was a high likelihood the system was designed to work in concert with your body. When you die, it goes inert, making it useless. But any serious interference with the zepgen implants while you’re alive can cause the system to overload and self-destruct. Violently.’ Taro went a shade paler, but said nothing, so Jarek continued, ‘Tawhira-ngai’s scientists were keeping you isolated; they obviously took the risk pretty seriously. When I rescued you they’d decided to put you on ice while they tried further tests, but they were reasonably sure the zepgen implants couldn’t be removed.’

  ‘Shit,’ whispered Taro.

  ‘And you really had no idea there was something like this inside you?’

  Jarek realised how dumb that question was even before Taro snapped a reply. ‘Of course I fucking didn’t!’

  Jarek considered leaving it there, but he still hadn’t brought up the issue that had made him wake Taro in the first place. ‘Taro, I’m sorry. I know you don’t need any more shit—’

  Taro snorted, but Jarek pressed on ‘—but there’s something I need to ask you.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Taro warily.

  ‘I told you I needed to try and get hold of a beacon so I can bring Serenein back into human-space. For that, I need to find a male Sidhe: I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who made the beacons in the first place. Now, in order to have . . . what you have . . . inside you, you must have encountered one.’

  For a while Taro said nothing. Jarek gave him time to compose himself.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said finally, ‘you could say that.’

  It was another beautiful day: early sunlight patterned the hardwood floor of Marua’s study and birdsong drifted through the open shutters. She loved the way the world smelled in the morning after rain; so rich and full of life. She would like nothing more than to take her cup of tea out onto the balcony and forget her troubles for a while. When she heard the knock on the door she sighed to herself then called out, ‘Come in, please.’

  The island had no facilities for detaining people; there was no need. Marua had improvised, moving Pershalek from his house to a lab that had been stripped down prior to refurbishment, providing only the basic amenities of a bed and bucket, and putting a pair of guards outside the door. Those same guards had marched him here in silence. They were waiting downstairs.

  She glanced up from her desk. ‘Feel free to sit down,’ she said, nodding at the seat opposite.

  Dr Pershalek looked tired, but not cowed. ‘I’m fine standing, thank you.’ He crossed his arms. ‘Actually I’m surprised you wanted to see me so soon. My previous employers had me in solitary confinement for the best part of two weeks before your people got me out. I was beginning to wonder if they were interested in renegotiating our relationship at all. Or if they were even willing to break with tradition.’

  ‘Break with tradition in what way?’ Marua affected a tone of disinterest to cover her irritation. He was right, of course: this game of negotiation he wished to draw her into meant he would expect to be left to stew for more than one night. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to make her point that way. The situation had to be resolved quickly, one way or another.

  ‘By killing me.’ His mocking tone indicated how unlikely he thought that possibility was. He was an irreplaceable asset, and he knew it: if the ngai he’d betrayed would not kill him, then the rival ngai who’d risked so much to get their hands on him surely wouldn’t.

  Marua tapped the file she’d been viewing closed and gave him her full attention. ‘Don’t tempt me, Dr Pershalek.’

  He looked understandably taken aback at her blunt answer. ‘But tapu—’

  ‘Is a very complicated matter, difficult for outsiders to fully understand. And each ngai is different.’

  ‘Ah.’ He eyed up the chair. ‘You said I could sit . . .’

  ‘Please do.’

  She waited for him to break the silence. ‘Perhaps I was being a little hasty yesterday,’ he said carefully. ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that suits us both. However, I meant what I said about how I wish my skills to be utilised. Building transit-kernels alone in a lab is not—’

  ‘—what you expected to be doing. I realise that. However, it is the job I wanted you for. It is the job you will be doing. And you will give it your full and enthusiastic support, and you will never dream of betraying my trust in any way.’

  ‘Just what makes you think—?’

  Marua’s upraised hand silenced him. She leaned forward and said, ‘Allow me to answer the question you asked yesterday.’

  He radiated growing unease; the rules he was used to obviously didn’t apply here. ‘Which one?’ he said nervously.

  ‘You asked why this is the only location where transit-kernels are manufactured. There are two answers to that. One is that only a very few suitable subjects are made available; there is little point in setting up a second facility for such a tiny number. The second reason is the need for utmost secrecy, given the uproar that would ensue if people realised what really powers their shiftships - though that would be nothing compared to the uproar should they discover who provides those shift-minds.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I work with the Sidhe.’

  His reaction was predictable: confusion, then incredulity. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you said the Sidhe.’

  Keeping her expression carefully composed Marua said, ‘I did. And if you do not cooperate fully I will simply hand you over to my Sidhe associates. They can ensure your obedience, from now until the day you die.’ But only while they were still around. Which was why she needed to be sure of him before Lyrian left the system.

  ‘This is . . . ridiculous. Laughable.’ He wanted to dismiss it as a joke, because that was what the Sidhe had made themselves; legendary monsters to frighten children. No one believed those foolish tales about them not being dead after all. But he could see she was deadly serious.

  ‘I’m not laughing, Dr Pershalek. If you would like to speak to their representative now, I can introduce you.’

  He looked over his shoulder, as though expecting a monster to materialise in her office. ‘They’re here?’

  ‘Not currently. But they’re only a com-call away. Would you like me to make that call?’

  ‘No.’ He swallowed, then mastered himself. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’

  ‘Without calling them, you mean? You don’t. As I say, secrecy is essential, and that is why, now you know the full truth, your options have narrowed. Either you willingly take on the task we recruited you for, or I give you to my associates and they ensure that you become willing.’ She paused to let him take this in. According to family legend that had happened a few times, but it was not the preferred option, because the process often damaged the very areas of the brain that were needed to interface with the transit-kernel technology. And to ask the Sidhe to intervene would reflect badly on Marua when she had already lost face with them.

  ‘You can have a few minutes to consider, if you like,’ she said magnanimously.

  Pershalek had been staring at her desk, eyes defocused. He looked up. ‘I . . . you really mean this, don’t you?’

  She leaned forward and said forcefully, but without anger, ‘Yes, I really mean this.’

 
By her desk clock, he considered for just over a minute. Then he said, ‘All right, you win. I’ll do it. But I want the chance to do my own work too.’

  ‘You’ll have it, provided the transit-kernels are always your priority.’

  When he didn’t make any move to go Marua cleared her throat and said, ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Uh, no.’ He began to get up, then paused. A hungry look came over his face. ‘Actually, yes, I was wondering . . . do you have zepgen? ’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ For the first time, he had surprised her.

  ‘Zepgen. It’s—’

  ‘I know what it is, Dr Pershalek. I’m just not sure why you’re bringing it up now.’