gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception (6 page)

“What you, Zhandar, see as a sort of mystical bond — what all our people see as such a thing — is in reality only a series of chemical reactions within the brain and body. After much study, we were able to successfully replicate those reactions in the laboratory. We now have the means to artificially create the
sayara
bond.”

This was getting worse and worse. So that was all his connection to Elzhair had ever been — chemicals and pheromones, and nothing more? Zhandar refused to believe that. He would not believe that.

“And so you think you will administer this drug to me, and present me with a woman who has taken the same drug, and we will bond immediately and produce many children for Zhoraan?”

“That is rather a callous way to phrase it,” Jalzhin replied. “But yes, in so many words.”

“And if I refuse?”

Rozhara shook her head, saying, “I know how difficult this must be to hear, Zhandar, how it challenges beliefs you’ve held all your life. But you must look past your pain. Do you want Zhoraan to dwindle into the dark, to become nothing? We have not sought to make the galaxy ours, not the way the Gaians have, but at the same time, we have a stake in its future. I would like to believe that we make it a better place by being among its citizens. All that will go away — not in our generation, perhaps, or even the one after it. But that day will come if we do not do something. If I were still of an age to bear children, I would be offering myself. But that time is past for me. It is not, however, past for you.”

For just the briefest second, right before she tamped it down immediately, Zhandar could feel a pulse of emotion coming from Rozhara — frustration, regret. And laid over all that, annoyance with him, for what she saw as his selfishness. In that moment, he wondered whether she had done a bit more than simply submitting reports about him, and had actually put his name forward as a promising candidate for Jalzhin’s insane program.

That suspicion only made anger flare in him, so he pushed it away for now as being unproductive. Instead, he had to ask himself, was he being selfish? He had only thought he was honoring Elzhair’s memory by being so steadfast to her. After all, it was very uncommon for those among his people to create a second
sayara
bond, if fate or misfortune took one’s first life partner away.

And now Jalzhin was saying that such a bond could be created with a simple shot, or pill, or implant, or whichever delivery system they’d devised to administer their drug. How many subjects had they tested it on? Enough to be certain that it worked, or Jalzhin would never have come here with his ridiculous proposals.

Or perhaps not so ridiculous. Zhoraan faced a grim future. If he, Zhandar, could do something to stave off the darkness, was it not his responsibility to take on the task, no matter how repugnant it might seem to him at the moment?

And he had so very much looked forward to being a father….

Well, there wasn’t much of a question after all, was there?

“Very well,” he said heavily. “Tell me what I must do.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Bile rose in the back of Trinity’s throat, but she forced herself to swallow. “I’ve had my shots,” she told Gabriel Brant, referring to the quarterly birth control shots every woman on Gaia began to receive as soon as she turned fourteen. True, there were a few precocious types who still managed to find themselves pregnant before then, but the incidence of unplanned conception was still very low.

His smile didn’t falter. “They can be neutralized with a series of counter-shots. That will not be a problem.”

She’d had a feeling her stratagem wouldn’t buy her much, especially since she herself was the result of her mother using those very same counter-shots, but she’d still had to try, just in case. Time for another angle. “And maybe I’m not even fertile.”

“Oh, you are,” he replied smoothly. “Your latest physical indicated that you were in perfect health, including reproductive.”

Of course they’d pulled her medical records. Why had she been expecting anything different? Gabriel and the people he worked for probably knew more about her than she herself did, right down to her scores on the standardized tests she’d taken back in primary school. She’d been a good student. And that was before her powers even began to manifest. No, that hadn’t happened until she was twelve. Once she’d understood what was happening to her, she realized she could tap into anyone’s mind to get the answers to test questions, to see what their take on the latest essay assignment was…anything at all, really.

But she hadn’t. She told herself that she’d done well in school before this strange ability to read minds had developed, and she wasn’t going to turn into a cheat. Back then, she hadn’t been entirely certain that the whole thing wouldn’t simply go away, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Relying on this new talent to get ahead in school hadn’t seemed very smart.

However, the powers hadn’t gone away. They’d turned out to be as much
her
as the color of her eyes or the shape of her mouth. And ever since she’d been wrestling with them — how to use them, whether she should tell anyone besides her mother. At least, for all Acantha Knox’s problems, she’d never tried to exploit her daughter’s talents, had in fact almost looked frightened and told Trinity that she had to be careful, that she could never reveal that secret to anyone else. And she never had…not until Caleb.

That hadn’t gone so well.

Not that this little session was going so great, either. She swallowed again. “So, all right. I get pregnant and have a half-Zhore baby. What then?”

“We’ll study it, of course.”

Of course. “You won’t — you won’t
hurt
it?”

The shark smile returned. “Developing maternal instincts, Trinity?”

“I don’t know about maternal, but I do know about basic human decency,” she retorted. “This child — if I even have it — will be half mine as well.”

“Not really. Handing the child over to us will be a condition of your release.”

She already disliked him, but in that moment, hatred flared in her, a raging fire of loathing burning in her belly. It would be better to go to Titan than suffer through this. How could it be any worse to be some guard’s plaything than it would to be forced to have sex with an alien, bear his child, and have that child taken away to become someone’s science experiment?

Without thinking, she pushed herself up out of her seat. She had to get out of here, get away from Gabriel. Never mind that she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to open the door of this conference room without his assistance.

She hadn’t made it more than two strides before he was beside her, his hand clamping down cruelly on her arm. Despite the pain, she wouldn’t allow herself to cry out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Do you really think you have any say in all this, Trinity?” he asked. His grip tightened even more, and she couldn’t help wincing. How long would it take for those bruises to appear? Not very long, probably.

She didn’t respond, but only glared at him. What would be the point in speaking? He knew he held all the cards here, and trying to protest that reality wouldn’t change anything.

“You forfeited your rights when you committed a crime,” he said. “You belong to us now. Do you understand?”

That was wrong. Even accused criminals had rights. Rights to a fair trial. Rights to contact a sympathetic party, whether friend, family member, or advocate. She’d been given none of those things, because she was no ordinary criminal. She had something the Consortium’s intelligence arm wanted. Now she was an asset, something to be ruthlessly exploited.

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she was sure Gabriel must hear it pounding. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

“Say it.”

A lump seemed to have formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking. She swallowed, hard. “I understand,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s get to work.”

There were a depressing number of candidates to bear his child. Most of them quite young, not having yet made a
sayara
match. A few somewhat older, possibly unlucky souls like him, women who had lost their partners through some misfortune.

And then there was Leizha.

He’d blinked in surprise and almost dropped his handheld when her name and image appeared on the screen. Jalzhin had sent him information on all the possible applicants, saying that Zhandar should choose the one who most appealed to him. Apparently, the Ministry had been sending out feelers for some time, searching for young women who were of the proper age and temperament to be suitable.

When Zhandar had asked whether these women knew the identity of the man they might possibly be matched with, Jalzhin had shaken his head. “No. They are given a general description, along with a few particulars of your case. But they do not know your name, or your position.”

That had been somewhat reassuring. However, as he gazed at Leizha’s image — not that it revealed much, since of course she was hooded — Zhandar began to wonder. True, most of these women could know nothing of who he was. But Leizha had worked with him almost every day for the past two years. She knew of the loss he had suffered. She knew how old he was, where he worked, where he lived. It wouldn’t have been that difficult for her to put the pieces together and realize that this man the Ministry was setting forward as a possible future partner was none other than the person she’d been quietly pursuing — in her mind, if nowhere else — for the last few months.

“Perhaps it would be better that way,” he mused aloud. Since he was now alone in his apartment, it didn’t matter. No one was there to hear him speak, and besides, he sometimes worked through problems this way, voicing them out loud, as if actually hearing them gave them more substance, something he could wrestle with.

Elzhair used to tease him about his habit — “talking to yourself again?” — but she’d always smiled as she’d done so. She understood why the process was important to him.

And now he was utilizing it to possibly choose her successor.

No, not that. Whoever he selected, she wouldn’t truly be Elzhair’s successor. She would be some strange counterfeit, an impostor, bound to him only because of that insidious drug the Ministry’s scientists had devised.

Frowning, he set the handheld down on the tabletop, then rose from his seat and went to stand at the window. Because he was alone, he’d divested himself of his heavy robes and had on only the close-fitting tunic and pants that were customary to wear beneath the billowing hooded cloak. There was no danger of anyone seeing him thus unrobed, however, as the glass of the window was treated so that he could see out, but no one could see in. The sun was setting, sending a brilliant golden glow over Torzhaan, making the tall buildings sparkle and the leaves of the plants in the rooftop gardens turn almost bronze.

It was beautiful, and yet it still awoke an ache within him. He’d often stood with Elzhair thus, watching the sun go down. Most of his kind preferred their widely scattered homesteads in the countryside. Cities were a necessary evil, and part of the reason why so many felt the need to go on retreat after a few years of work in a population center. But he had always loved these towers of glass, which should have been cold and sterile, but weren’t, because of the work he and others like him did to make every roof and balcony bloom with life.

“At least I know Leizha,” he said. True. They had spent many hours together, overseeing the irrigation systems that fed the city’s gardens, choosing the plants that would flourish, conducting seminars on how best to care for these precious living resources. He knew something of how she thought. The sound of her voice was familiar to him.

But to be together in such a way….

“Can I do that?”

He had no answer. Jalzhin had assured him that the drug would topple those barriers, create an attraction where none should have existed. But there could not be any artificial conception beyond that. They had developed the drug, but the scientists had been unsuccessful in fertilizing a female Zhore’s egg. There was something missing, something that could only occur during actual intercourse.

To be that intimate with Leizha?

Perhaps it would be easier with a stranger. He had put the mere notion of such physical acts out of his mind for many, many months. That was not to say that he hadn’t enjoyed it very much when he was with Elzhair. He’d heard that the Gaians and the Eridanis thought the Zhore odd and cold, in the way they covered every inch of their bodies and never, ever touched one another in public. That was not because they were cold, however. It was the very opposite. Their blood ran hot when with their partners, a heat that could only be quenched in hours of exploration of one another’s bodies. Why, one time with Elzhair, they hadn’t risen from their bed for nearly an entire day….

Zhandar had to push that thought aside, as even now the memory stirred the need in his body, waking a desire he could do nothing to satisfy. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. He knew that all he had to do was make his selection, then send the information on to Jalzhin. And soon after that — very soon, based on the other man’s hints — the woman of his choice would be sent to him. A small purple pill, and then he would want her as he’d once wanted Elzhair. Simple as that.

Or perhaps not so simple.

He picked up the handheld and activated the screen. Although it was taboo to reveal one’s face, save to one’s immediate family and
sayara
partner, and perhaps a few very close friends, Zhandar wished he could see Leizha’s features. Perhaps then he’d know whether he was making the right choice. Unlike humans or Eridanis, the Zhore did not base their attractions on physical appearance, but rather spiritual and intellectual compatibility.

Even so, he would have given a lot right then to be able to look into Leizha’s eyes.

It had been a long black sleep, one in which uncounted hours passed. When Trinity finally blinked at the darkened room around her, her eyelids felt gummy, lashes pasted together the way they once had been when she’d had a bad fever as a child. Everything seemed to swim around her.