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 you 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.’
‘It’s Sidhe technology; does that mean they’ve given it to you? Because it’s a fascinating area, and if my other duties permit then I’d be very interested in—’
‘Not every legend about the Sidhe is true,’ said Marua shortly. ‘There’s no such thing as zepgen.’
‘Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong.’ He sounded delighted to have caught her out.
‘Am I?’
Puffing his chest out, he said, ‘Despite my problems with my late employer I still had my ear to the ground. When Tawhira-
ngai
caught that Angel it was so they could investigate his power source - which is zepgen.’ When Marua said nothing he couldn’t resist planting a last barb. ‘Odd that they’d give it to assassins and not to their supposed friends.’
‘You’ll be wanting to see your new laboratory now,’ said Marua tightly.
He half-bowed and left without another word.
Once she heard the door downstairs close, Marua called her security chief. ‘Any progress on decrypting the files from the island run?’ she asked.
‘Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything.’
Pershalek could be lying, but she doubted it. He had nothing to gain by such a lie. Of course she should not expect the Sidhe to share everything; this was a business arrangement, after all, quite aside from their essentially secretive nature. But she could do so much with zepgen, even if the Sidhe forbade her from making the knowledge public! If they did have this technology then it would be in their interests to share it with her, given the massive power requirements of the transit-kernel encoding process.
Pershalek’s dig reminded her that even if she liked to think of them as her associates, the Sidhe were actually her mistresses.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Though Nual tried to contact Taro again, she had no success. He’d woken up at exactly the wrong moment. But at least she knew he was still alive, and, from the momentary touch she had felt, no longer in serious trouble - the wisp of his consciousness she had connected with had been unclouded, and not in any pain or distress.