“He is Zhore,” Nalzhir said quietly. “In appearance, at any rate. We sent a team of doctors to Lathvin IV to do some minor tests, nothing invasive. There are subtle differences in his DNA, which is only to be expected when you have two races mix like this. But the child is healthy, and it is clear that his Zhore heritage is the dominant element in his appearance.”
Zhandar stared down at the image. A healthy boy. A healthy Zhore boy — one of his people, to all intents and purposes. No wonder the Gaians were nervous about the ramifications of such pairings. “And the Consortium knows of this as well?”
“We have to believe that they do — not because Annika and Sarzhin are not circumspect, but because the girl’s family, particularly her sister, are not as good at keeping secrets as they should be. But we’ve made it clear through the necessary channels that the two of them and their child are to be left alone.”
A request that would have to be honored, at least openly. But if the agents of Gaia’s government decided to make a play at getting their hands on a hybrid child of their own…well, he supposed they’d thought it would work out quite well, as long as no one discovered what they were plotting.
“We think it best that Ms. Knox stays here, for obvious reasons,” Nalzhir continued. “We hope that you can find yourself able to take her into your care.”
“Indeed?” On the most basic level, it made some sense. The two of them were sayara. They could not spend any great amount of time at any great distance from one another, or Zhandar would suffer the consequences. And then there was the child.
Even so, he didn’t know if he could manage that. Yes, Trinity was contrite, and cooperative. But her helpfulness now couldn’t simply erase everything she’d done wrong over the past month. He wanted her…possibly he even still loved her…but he was very angry with her.
“Not necessarily in your apartment,” Nalzhir said smoothly. “We can make arrangements to have her move into the one directly below yours. And she will have people watching over her. For obvious reasons, she cannot be allowed to return to her work with you. But at least that way you will be near enough each other that it will not jeopardize your bond.”
That could work…perhaps. It was entirely possible that having her that close, and yet not truly being with her, would be more of a torture than anything else. At the same time, it would be better than sharing an apartment with her, and infinitely better than having her sent back to Gaia. But no, Nalzhir and those he worked for would never do something like that, for they would be handing down Zhandar’s death sentence.
All the same, he couldn’t help asking, “And what of Trinity’s Gaian masters? Are you going to communicate with them at all?”
“That has not been decided yet. For now, it’s enough that they know we have discovered her, and have interrupted their surveillance activities.” The agent shook his head, and didn’t bother to conceal the disgust he was currently experiencing. “For them to think there was nothing wrong in using a young woman in such a way, to have her every word and action recorded…it is beyond anything any of us could have imagined. Yes, of course we know the Gaians have their spies, but they’ve never been so bold as to attempt to infiltrate the sanctity of our home world.”
The sanctity of my private life, Zhandar thought then. Every intimate moment I shared with Trinity, transmitted so they could analyze it, study it….
He shuddered.
Nalzhir said, “Yes, it is a terrible thing. And unfortunately, there is very little we can do about it, except be glad that you did discover Trinity’s identity, and that we were able to remove the implant. No doubt the Gaians are poring over all the data, rubbing their hands with glee at having so much information about those secretive Zhore.”
The agent’s voice held a sort of weary disdain, but at least Zhandar couldn’t detect any anger or irritation directed at him directly. His people knew that he had done nothing wrong. The bond with Trinity had been real, even if nothing else in their relationship had been, and so there would be no recriminations, no questions as to why he hadn’t detected her alien nature sooner than he had.
Since Zhandar didn’t quite know how to respond, he remained silent.
Nalzhir apparently took that as his cue to continue. “I suppose we were naïve to think that we could keep ourselves hidden from the Gaians forever. They are far too acquisitive a race, and unscrupulous. It is an unfortunate combination.” He hesitated then, his hood tilted toward Zhandar. “And yet you formed this bond with her, saw nothing untoward in her behavior or her reactions.”
The agent’s tone was so mild that Zhandar couldn’t exactly construe it as accusatory, and yet….
“There was nothing,” he said. “Oh, perhaps once or twice she hesitated at odd times, or responded to a question or a situation in a manner I thought somewhat unusual, but I put that down to her being from Alizhaar, a place whose customs are not precisely the same as ours here in Torzhaan. I suppose it was her psychic gifts that allowed her to function so well among us. Even if she could not precisely read our minds, she could pick up emotions we thought were safely hidden.”
Nalzhir inclined his head in agreement. “That part is rather extraordinary. We had heard rumors that Gaians existed who possessed these sorts of talents, but certainly none of our people have come across them, and no doubt the Consortium wishes to keep them hidden so it can utilize them as it sees fit. Their abilities do seem to differ greatly from ours.”
“Yes. Trinity apparently can read thoughts themselves, although she admitted that her talent did not function the same with everyone, and that there were a few people she could not read at all.”
“Once she is fully recovered, we would like to conduct some tests with her.”
At that comment, Zhandar couldn’t keep himself from recoiling slightly in alarm. “What kind of tests?”
“Nothing invasive, I assure you. Only a small battery to determine how strong her gifts are, and whether they are concentrated in certain areas. It would not be strenuous — she would only sit in a chair, just as you are doing now, and speak with several counselors and scientists.”
That didn’t sound quite as bad as he’d feared. Even so, he had to say, “But you will wait until she feels she is ready.”
A chuckle emerged from Nalzhir’s hood. “Zhandar, for a man who is furious with his partner, you are being quite protective.”
“She is not my partner,” Zhandar replied stiffly.
“Perhaps not. But she is still sayara.”
* * *
They let her out of the medical center after three days. To tell the truth, she’d been ready to leave after the first full day, but the physicians there wanted to continue monitoring her, just to be sure she didn’t develop any infections from the procedures to remove the Zhore skin or to remove the implant.
That damn implant. She wished they’d given it to her so she could have ground it under the heel of her boot. But of course the Zhore wouldn’t be that wasteful. They would have taken it to a lab to be studied.
At least it was out of her head.
The whole time she’d been “recovering” in the medical center, she’d been wondering what they planned to do with her. Build a special prison, just for their captured Gaian spy? Or simply put her under house arrest?
That appeared to be exactly what they intended. A Zhore agent had come to speak with her, a man named Nalzhir, and he had told her that she would be living in the apartment directly beneath Zhandar’s.
“For you have made the sayara bond,” the government man told her. “So you must remain close by. An agent named Rinzha has been assigned to you. She will stay in your apartment with you and see that you come to no harm.”
What harm could I possibly come to on Zhoraan? Trinity wondered then. In the next instant, however, she realized that her watchdog, this Rinzha person, was probably there more to keep any Zhore from being shocked by the presence of a Gaian among them than because the government feared for Trinity’s saf
ety.
She hadn’t dared to ask whether the Gaians themselves — and Gabriel Brant in particular — had been notified of her capture. Of course he would have known, would have seen everything that happened to her until she was put under sedation and the implant removed. But the Zhore still should have contacted the Gaian government. That was supposed to be the protocol. Or so she’d heard. Then again, the Consortium wasn’t known for following rules, even its own, so she doubted the Zhore were too worried about following the conventions in this particular instance.
On the one hand, she’d love to see Gabriel fuming at his current impotence, of knowing that she was in Zhore hands and that there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. On the other…well, even on a good day, Gabriel wasn’t the sort of person she would ever trust, and if he was feeling particularly desperate….
Well, she’d have to hope that whoever had reined him in last time, after he’d had her brought to his hideout on the second moon, was also riding herd on him this go-round. With any luck, the Consortium would have decided to wash its hands of her, and had abandoned her to her fate.
Which was, she realized upon inspecting her new home, not so bad. Zhandar’s absence hurt, like a physical ache. She hadn’t been expecting that. After all, she’d always picked herself up and dusted herself off in the past whenever a relationship went sour.
That was different, though. She hadn’t loved those men. Not really.
The agent assigned her, Rinzha, was quiet and unobtrusive. Trinity’s new apartment was larger than the one she’d previously been living in, and so there were three bedrooms, one for her, one for Rinzha, and one probably intended as an office or study. It had an entertainment unit, but Trinity doubted she’d use it all that often. Zhoraan’s tame offerings had already begun to pall even before she’d been placed under house arrest.
It should have been comfortable, if somewhat confining. They did allow her to go out on the balcony, as long as she wore her robes and made sure that no one could see her face. So there was sun, and fresh air, and flowers and an herb garden off to one side where she could putter around.
The problem was that she could sense when Zhandar came and went. She couldn’t even say which was worse — knowing he was there, just a floor above her, and not being able to speak with him, or the times when he was gone at work, when the absence of his presence felt like a great gaping hole in her existence.
She’d been here a week now, and not once had he come to see her. Maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. He’d been angry — she hadn’t even realized that one of the placid Zhore could get that angry — and yet she’d nursed the hope that he would move past that and at least speak with her. But no. They were living close by one another merely so the physical aspects of the sayara bond couldn’t be broken, but it seemed he had no desire to do anything beyond that.
No one had mentioned the baby, either. Well, the doctors and the psychiatrists had run a battery of tests and declared her to be in good health, and had gone off to collate the answers she’d given them about her psychic abilities, but other than that, nothing. On Gaia, the first thing a doctor always asked when a woman had a positive pregnancy test was, “Are you going to keep it?” Considering Gaia’s chronic over-population problems, Trinity thought that made some sense, although the practice had always seemed pretty cold-blooded to her.
But Zhore had the opposite issue. There was no question as to whether she would be having this child. What happened to it afterward, though….
I suppose they’ll take it and give it to Zhandar, she thought drearily. Then he can have the family he always wanted, and I…well, I’ll probably stay in this apartment until I drop dead of old age.
Maybe it would have been better to be locked up in MaxSec. At least then she wouldn’t have known what it was like to be loved by Zhandar, only to have it all taken away.
She’d been standing on the balcony, lost in these dark ruminations. Her mood didn’t fit the day, which was sunny and bright, with delicate clouds chasing one another across the sky. But she couldn’t seem to shake it, no matter what.
Rinzha came out into the balcony garden, pausing a few feet away. The wind caught at her hood, but of course the heavy fabric stayed stubbornly in place. “You have a visitor. Nalzhir, of the Alien Relations Bureau.”
So that was who he worked for. Trinity had no idea the Zhore even had enough relations with other races to require a bureau to handle those affairs, but apparently they did. She couldn’t think what Nalzhir might want. Then again, his visit would at least help a little to break up the monotony of her day.
She nodded at Rinzha and went inside, then pulled off the heavy hooded cloak she wore. That was one good thing about having her identity revealed; she only had to wear the damn thing when she went outside.
Nalzhir was waiting for her in the living room area. Upon seeing him, Rinzha bowed at the waist, hands clasped together, and then disappeared into her room. Trinity still hadn’t quite figured out what the Zhore woman’s exact role was — guard, protector, nursemaid? Obviously, though, she thought Trinity was safe enough in Nalzhir’s company, and wouldn’t do anything as rude as intrude on their meeting.
“Hello, Nalzhir,” Trinity said as she approached him. “I wasn’t expecting company, but if you’d like some water, or some honey tea — ”
“Thank you, but I require nothing,” he replied, sounding positively brusque for a Zhore. Then he gestured toward one of the sofas. “If you would please sit down?”
That should have been her line, but Trinity didn’t protest. She went to the couch he’d indicated and settled herself on it. His gaze seemed to track her, but she couldn’t tell for sure. And a little probe toward his thoughts didn’t help, either. He was very locked down.
“How are you faring here?” he asked.
“Um…fine,” she replied. No, she wasn’t fine, but she doubted he’d asked because he wanted the truth from her. It was just a polite formality that had to be observed.
“Good.” He paused for a second or two, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he said, “We have had a communiqué from the diplomatic branch of your government.”
“Oh?” Trinity attempted to sound neutral, but she wasn’t sure how successful she had been. All along she’d been hoping that the Consortium had decided to wash its hands of her. If they were contacting the Zhore, however, that wouldn’t appear to be the case.
“Yes. They are demanding your immediate return.”
Of course they were. Nothing like going on the offensive when you were, in fact, the offending party. “And your response?”
“We have given them none as yet, save to say that we will take the matter under advisement. They are claiming that we are holding one of their citizens unlawfully. And because you were never officially an employee of the Consortium government, or had any kind of standing with them other than as an ordinary citizen, we don’t have much evidence to show that you were here as a spy.”
She hated that word. They’d been speaking in Zhoraani, but Nalzhir had used the Galactic Standard term, since once again it was a concept utterly foreign to the Zhore. She didn’t bother to protest, however. It was exactly why she’d come here — to spy on the alien race.
And become pregnant by one of them.
“That’s a little disingenuous of them, don’t you think?” she inquired. “I mean, your people don’t even allow outsiders on the planet’s surface. The only reason I’d be down here would be to spy.”
He didn’t answer right away. His head cocked to one side, as if he was considering her from within the depths of his hood. “You don’t appear to have a very favorable opinion of your government, Ms. Knox.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not sure why that surprises you.”
“Oh, I am not surprised. Except, perhaps, by your honesty.”
“Well, that’s what I told Zhandar. No more lies.”
At least, to no one besides herself.
Nalzhir
clasped his gloved hands on his knees. “That is admirable of you, Ms. Knox. And thank you. Then we can speak frankly. The last thing that my people want is an open confrontation. In all honesty, we cannot afford it. Yes, the Eridanis would most likely support our cause, but — ”
“Wait a minute,” Trinity cut in. “You’re not trying to tell me that the Consortium might go to war over this? Over one person?”
“Most likely not, but we cannot entirely discount the threat they represent, either. At the very least, it would give them more bargaining power to represent themselves as the injured party here, which you and I both know they are most definitely not.”
“That’s for damn sure,” she murmured.
“There is more, I am afraid. The diplomatic corps representative in this sector, one Gabriel Brant, is demanding to speak with you in person. He — ”
“Gabriel?” Trinity repeated, startled.
“You know this man?”
“He’s my handler,” she said. “Or my manager, or whatever you want to call him. But he’s definitely not a diplomat. He’s an operative for a black ops branch of the government.”
Again, all in Galactic Standard. The Zhore language couldn’t frame those sorts of concepts.
Nalzhir seemed to recognize where the conversation had gone, because when he spoke again, it was in the same language. Smoothly and expertly, with far more command than Zhandar had. That made sense; Nalzhir worked for a bureau whose mission was to reach out to and communicate with alien races.
“I fear that he is representing himself as a diplomat — with the backing of your government, I am sure. It makes sense, as I had never heard of him prior to this. All my previous dealings had been with a woman named Nandita Singh. But even if this Mr. Brant is not who he says he is, we can’t risk an escalation by accusing him of being something he is not.”
No, of course not. Relations between the various galactic governments were like a very complicated game of chess, one played in dimensions far beyond a flat board. She didn’t envy the people like Nalzhir whose work involved negotiating that particular mine field.
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