by Jaine Fenn
The cobbled streets of the City of Light were hot and foetid. Overhead, the perfection of the summer sky was marred by a twist of dark smoke from the pyres. Trash and sewerage clogged the open drains, and somewhere nearby a street-seller was crying his wares, fresh incense to honour the Mothers. He knew he shouldn’t be here - he was an impostor - but he’d decided to take the easy way out and try to fit in. He’d be fine, provided he never looked up. When he saw the boy standing with the painted strumpets at the side of the street he knew it was Taro, and that this was someone from his other life, the one he’d left behind. As though reminding him of that, he heard an artificial-sounding chirp. He ignored it. It’d been too long since he’d got laid, and now the opportunity presented itself, he wasn’t going to be distracted. His wife understood him, she wouldn’t mind if he just—
Jarek opened his eyes. The chirping continued. It was his com. The dream fled and he fumbled for the device. He blinked until the caller-ID and time came into focus. The time was 01:33. The caller’s name meant nothing, and the message-tag said the call came from cargo management. What the hell?
But he could hardly pretend not to be at home to a member of spaceport staff. He and Taro had been on the ship all day, fees and duties all paid, prepped and ready to leave. On Taro’s insistence they were waiting until the next morning, in case there was any more news on Nual’s whereabouts. Taro had been in a right state all day, and though Jarek understood how love made you crazy at that age, he had begun to lose patience with him. He was still digesting the fact that Taro and Nual had been working for an old Sidhe male on Vellern.
He accepted the call and rasped, ‘Yes? What is it?’
A vaguely familiar face appeared on the screen. ‘Hey there - sorry to disturb you so late,’ said the woman, ‘but I thought you ought to know that someone’s been asking about you.’
He recognised her now, though the last time he’d seen her she’d been wearing a flower in her hair, not a smart uniform cap on her head, and the name she’d been using had been a shortened version of her full ID. ‘Oh, hi, Lali - er, what was that you said?’ Despite his feigned confusion, he was wide awake now.
‘Someone was asking after you. Ngai security I think, though they weren’t wearing uniforms. They had a picture, but no name. They wanted to know if anyone had seen you.’
‘What did you tell them?’
She looked faintly offended. ‘Nothing - what d’you think?’
‘Thank you, Lali, I really appreciate that. Um, when was this?’
She looked embarrassed. ‘Actually it was earlier this evening. Sorry, I had to wait until I had a break before I called you.’
‘No, no, that’s fine - it was good of you to call.’ It wasn’t fine, but presumably Ruanuku-ngai - he assumed it was them - either hadn’t managed to ID him yet, or else they weren’t in a hurry to apprehend him. ‘I don’t suppose you know if they spoke to anyone else?’
‘They spoke to everyone, so the chances are someone talked.’ She looked sheepish. ‘I told you as soon as I could.’
‘I understand. And I’m really grateful. I owe you dinner for this,’ he added, feeling a twinge of guilt at the incredibly high odds that he’d ever be in a position to buy it.
‘Great,’ she said, ‘it’s a date.’
Jarek’s guilt deepened; even if they did meet up again he was going to end up disappointing her. ‘Yeah, absolutely. Listen, better go - speak to you later, right? And thanks for the heads-up.’
Jarek ran through the rec-room and up to the bridge. He could use a caf, but that would have to wait. He threw himself onto the couch and commed traffic control to request clearance to depart.
With everything in order and ready to go, he’d been hoping for an automated response and he stifled a curse when an unfamiliar image appeared over the holo-plate. The uniformed young man wasn’t one of his drinking buddies. ‘I’m afraid that we are unable to grant departure permission to you at this time,’ he said, a little nervously.
Jarek’s heart started to beat faster. ‘Why not? I’ve already registered my state of readiness. Is there a problem I don’t know about out there?’ His external cameras showed nothing amiss outside.
‘Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,’ continued the official, his tone carefully light. ‘Just a few minor irregularities that customs might need to discuss.’
‘What sort of irregularities?’ asked Jarek, equally carefully.
The man shrugged, looking uncomfortable. ‘You’d have to ask them,’ he said.
‘All right, put me through please.’
‘They’re—Uh, the office is closed until oh-six-hundred. Sorry.’
Jarek leaned forward. ‘I’m on a schedule here. Now, either there’s a problem - in which case I’ll do everything in my power to help the authorities so I can be on my way - or there isn’t, in which case I’d like to leave now please.’ Though the cause was different this time, the situation wasn’t unfamiliar. He’d had to call officials’ bluffs before; sometimes because they were operating in a legal grey area, more often because he was. He knew how it went. He hoped this wasn’t a problem that would require financial lubrication. The docking fees had eaten up the last of his funds.
‘I have instructions . . .’ started the official.
‘From?’ asked Jarek, though he had a very good idea whom. ‘Because, as I say, I’m happy to comply with local laws, but I’m within my rights to know what’s going on.’ Jarek thought it unlikely that customs really did want to check him over: he’d sold two-thirds of his cargo through a respectable broker and though leaving without trying to offload the rest was irregular, it certainly wasn’t against any law. ‘Detaining me without due cause would be an illegal act under pan-human law – I can’t quote the exact Treaty and Clause offhand, but we could always look it up - and would make you extremely unpopular with the Freetraders’ Alliance.’
‘I’ll . . . I just need to check with my supervisor,’ said the young man, looking harassed.
Jarek forced himself to breathe evenly as he prepped the ship. A port like this was unlikely to have any offensive capabilities, so they couldn’t physically stop him leaving. The question was: did they want him enough to send someone after him? Though the Judas Kiss - now the Heart of Glass - was fast as tradebirds went, it was unlikely to be able to outrun an in-system interceptor.
Before he committed himself to anything drastic, he’d wait for the official to call him back.
It took six minutes and fifteen seconds. Jarek knew, because he watched the digits tick over on his com. It stopped him thinking too closely about what he was doing. Running away. Abandoning his friend to her fate. Taro would be devastated when he found out. But if Ruanuku-ngai were onto them, what choice did they have?
The chirp of the com made him jump.
The young man reappeared, looking slightly flushed. ‘There appears to have been a slight mix-up,’ he said. ‘You’re free to go, but make sure you keep a channel open in case we need to contact you again.’
Jarek tried not to let his relief show. ‘I always do.’
It was a rush as intense as any she had felt before - at least, until the day she and Taro had made love - but it was far from pleasant. Afterwards Nual likened it to being dragged screaming through the void at the speed of light - which in some ways was exactly what it was.
She was being attacked. No doubt of that, she thought as Taro’s dream dissolved into formless speed and panic. Someone was trying to enter her mind while she was in trance.
The initial thrust met her shields . . .
Pain!
The probe was sharp and focused, a needle piercing down through her consciousness, seeking the answers she had so far withheld. And it had the power of the unity behind it.
She deflected the probe - but barely.
She became vaguely aware of her surroundings: she was lying on her back and there was an unpleasant pressure on her shoulders. She shut off all physical sensation and concentrate
d on fighting the invading presences.
They changed tack, spreading and diversifying their assault to batter at her shields.
Even as she bent all her strength to repelling the assault she realised they would not be trying this unless they truly believed she was free of any taint. What a small mercy that would be, if they broke her now.
What if she were to let them in? The pain would stop, and they might still forgive her, let her back into their world—
She recognised this second, more insidious attack for what it was. They were working on two levels now, trying to undermine her deepest barriers while infecting her surface thoughts with a creeping empathic malaise. Whoever was spearheading the more subtle attack had already got some way into her head.
Clearly, and without letting her deep shields waver, she thought back at them:
The surface presence withdrew, but the main assault continued. She had lost all bodily awareness now, all sense of time, almost all sense of self. She was living defiance and keeping them out was all that mattered.
It became a test of endurance. She was just one individual. They were the unity. In the end, her shields would crumble, and they would win.
And when they did, it wouldn’t be just her who was doomed.
She had to fight back, for Taro’s sake. If they broke through they would find out about him; perhaps they could even exploit her link with him and she couldn’t risk that. It would be better to emerge from behind her defences and go out fighting. She might even do some damage herself before they destroyed her. But she was exhausted, drained both mentally and physically, and she had nothing left to fight back with.
Except she did. She had something they lacked. Her bond with Taro was a type of unity they could never know, built on complete trust, and the willingness to put the life of another above the self. She had been afraid that love would make her weak. Perhaps it’d had the opposite effect.
With some effort, she reconnected with her body. The sensation in her shoulders was agonising, a weight grinding her bones into the bed, and as she began to block the worst of the pain she started to realise what must have happened. Lyrian had come in and, seeing her in a trance, she had decided to take advantage of Nual’s vulnerable state.
Time to turn the tables - and if she failed, then better to end it quickly and cleanly than wait to die and risk betraying her friends. She drew on the strength that her secret gave her. Then she opened her eyes, focusing all her remaining willpower into a counter-attack.
Lyrian had been crouched over her. Nual felt her strike connect with the other Sidhe. Lyrian shrieked and fell back. The pressure in Nual’s head was released at the same time as that on her shoulders: as she’d thought, Lyrian had been the focus for the assault and without her making the connection, the unity lost their hold.
Nual drew a deep, ragged breath. She had defeated them - for now.
From across the room Lyrian growled, ‘You couldn’t blame us for trying, could you?’
Actually, she could. Nual struggled into a sitting position, but said nothing. Any illusion of trust or friendship was gone. There was no more use for words between them.
Lyrian had composed herself again, though she stayed on the far side of the room. ‘I guess that’s that then. Well, no matter. What I originally came to tell you was that our visitor is ahead of schedule: she’ll be here in a few hours.’ She walked to the door, then turned and added, ‘I may have failed. She won’t.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Marua stood on her balcony, staring out into the dark. She wished she could see the view: the verdant slopes of the caldera, the occasional glimpses of her people walking on the leafy paths and tracks between home and work and meetings with friends. She needed the perspective brought by overseeing such quiet order, the certainty and comfort of knowing that this was her kingdom, these her people, and that all was well with the world.
Self-doubt was not in Marua’s nature, but thanks to her recent experiences, she was having some trouble believing she was entirely mistress of her own destiny.
She did not hate the Sidhe. They were expedient, ruthless and capricious, but she truly believed that their control of humanity’s destiny - however far it extended - was motivated by the same desires that had led them to elevate humans to the stars in the first place. They knew how selfish and short-sighted people were, how close humanity had come to wiping itself out in the past. Marua’s part in the Sidhe’s schemes helped ensure that humans had continued access to interstellar travel, a birthright the Sidhe themselves had bought for everyone.
No, to hate them was unfair, pointless, and, in her position, extremely dangerous.
She was, however, angry with them, a deep seething resentment that had come together over the last few days. The power Marua exercised over her people was tempered with understanding, but the Sidhe cared only for results, not reasons. Lyrian had treated her like an incompetent child, as though such patronising disdain would actually solve the complex problems Marua was trying to deal with in order to please her associates - and she had been trying to please the Sidhe.
Not giving them reason to doubt her was one thing, but she strongly suspected that whilst in their presence she had been subject to their manipulation. Looking back on her almost fawning eagerness to impress her visitors, Marua was increasingly convinced she had been a victim of their persuasive powers, a far subtler coercion than that exerted by the renegade Angel, but there all the same.
And then there was the matter of zepgen. If the technology was available, why not give it to her? Some believed that zepgen had been developed by the old Sidhe males, who were thought to be long dead. But then, most people assumed the same was true of the females.
The more she considered it, the more one-sided her relationship with the hine-maku appeared.
She had to give them everything they demanded . . . But if they didn’t know about something, they could hardly ask her for it, could they?
Which was why she had no intention of telling them about Jarek Reen.
She had considered arranging a fatal but untraceable accident to remove the threat posed by Sirrah Reen once his blackmail material was safely neutralised. In the end, she had decided that the logistical difficulties and risk of possible comeback were too great.
She hadn’t counted on him trying to leave before she’d got her hands on the incriminating data. The call from her contact in traffic control forced her hand: should they let him go, or did she have a valid reason to detain him? Her ngai’s influence allowed her to request that arrivals be reported and departures delayed, but she was already sailing close to the wind after the public censure for the débâcle with Tawhira-ngai. She had thought for a moment, then told the starport to let the freetrader take off.
She had reluctantly despatched an interceptor to shadow his ship at a distance, waiting for word that the blackmail threat had been dealt with. The destruction of a ship out near the beacon might not immediately be attributed to her ngai, but when it was, further condemnation would follow. She dreaded the inevitable lengthy enquiry and eventual allocation of blame.
She told herself that to let him live was careless and unwise. That didn’t make killing him a course of action she was comfortable with.
Half an hour after Reen’s ship took off, her Stonetown agent commed to tell her he’d tracked down the data-agency the freetrader had used, but there was no need for further action: Jarek Reen had already cancelled his contract and the agency had wiped the data.
He had acted with an honour her so-called allies never displayed.
Marua gave silent thanks to the Lord of the Sea that she had continued to prevaricate. Sirrah Reen’s choice to delete the data vindicated her decision to follow her heart, not her head.
She recalled the interceptor.
Of course, honourable though he was, the danger posed by what he knew had not diminished. Leaning on the railing, breathing the sweet-scented night air, she suddenly saw
that there was another way to deal with this problem, one which kept her honour intact and paid back Jarek Reen for his actions - both the good and the bad. It was risky: if the Sidhe read Reen’s mind they’d know that Marua hadn’t been entirely honest with them - but she got the impression that if it came to it, he was not the sort of man to let himself get taken alive.
She would give him what he’d said he wanted. And if it got him killed, then so be it.
Nual decided there was just one option left open to her. It was not something Sidhe did, though she had already come close to it once. That time, she had been confused, acting foolishly. Now it was the only logical choice.
Before reaching her conclusion she considered whether the bond with Taro that had given her the power to break Lyrian’s hold could also save her from the Court. But Lyrian had managed to wrench her away from Taro; a member of the Court could easily do the same.