"He wanted to protect the Taelons. Not get revenge," said Doors disbelievingly.
"You're the one who keeps pointing out that the fallacy of assigning human motivations to aliens."
Sandoval took over. "You implied that Ha'gel died shortly after your birth."
"Actually, he died before I was born."
"Indeed," said Sandoval with a shrewd smile. "Then how do you know what he wanted?"
Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "As I said yesterday, Kimera have genetic memory," he replied. "I already possessed all of my parents' knowledge when I was born."
"Your human parents as well as Ha'gel?" asked Doors, studying him intently.
"Yes." What are they after? he wondered.
"If you have all of Ha'gel's knowledge, then you must have some knowledge of Kimera technology," said Sandoval meaningfully. "Ships, weapons…"
Liam cringed internally at the implications of the statement. "Ha'gel was more of an anthropologist than an engineer," he temporized. He studied the expressions of the two men seated across from him. Sandoval was as deadpan as always, while disbelief was openly visible on Doors' face. Not a promising response, he decided.
"But it's not just Ha'gel's memories you carry, Major," said Sandoval. "It's all of his ancestors as well, isn't it?"
"My ability to consciously access those memories is very limited."
"You must be able to remember something," insisted Doors.
"The Kimera were generally a peaceful race," said Liam. "They didn't devote much time to weapons design."
"Even a peaceful race needs to defend itself sometimes," observed Doors. "Or is that how the Taelons managed to kill them off?"
"You said before that the Kimera's genetic manipulation of the Taelons was part of the reason the Taelons killed the Kimera," inserted Sandoval smoothly. "What was the rest of the reason?"
"What do you mean?" asked Liam uneasily.
"I worked for the Taelons for only a short time," said Sandoval. "But I did manage to learn a few things about how they think." He leaned forward into Liam's personal space and lowered his voice. "The Taelons are…greatly concerned with their own survival. A race they perceived as a threat would tend to attract a certain amount of negative attention."
"And you don't think the ability to genetically restructure an entire race is enough of a threat?"
"Maybe," said Sandoval. He rose to his feet and began slowly circling Liam's chair, going into what Liam recognized as full interrogation/intimidation mode. "Maybe not. I suspect that the Kimera were capable of doing more damage to the Taelons than you're letting on. I think there may have been a more…overt threat. You're hiding things, Major, and I want to know what they are." He halted directly in front of Liam and stared down at him unblinkingly. "Why, exactly, did the Taelons destroy the Kimera?"
"I already told you," said Liam. "The Kimera saved them, and the Taelons didn't like the results."
Sandoval shook his head. "There's more to it than that," he said. "Try again."
"If you know anything that might help us stop the Taelons, you have a duty to share it with us," added Doors sharply.
"Even if I could recall how Kimera weapons worked, humans don't have the necessary technology to construct them," said Liam. He found himself hoping that Boone returned from the embassy sooner rather than later. Someone who wasn't entirely anti-Taelon would be welcome about now.
"Not good enough," snapped Sandoval. "You…" He stopped and doubled over, gasping. Liam sprang to his feet and grabbed Sandoval's arm.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
Sandoval looked up at him, his face ghostly pale. "I…" he began uncertainly.
Liam caught him as he collapsed.
Siobhan looked around her small cell for about the five hundredth time. The spherical force field they'd activated to hold her extended along the floor as well as the walls and ceiling, as she'd discovered on her first escape attempt shortly after they placed her here. Multiple and creative exercises had since banished any doubts about her skrill's inability to penetrate the field and left her exhausted and ravenous. The only things inside the field were a cot, a chair, a small table, a toilet, and a sink, none of which had yielded any parts that might prove helpful in effecting an escape. Nor were they much good for providing a distraction, which meant that she had plenty of time to contemplate her situation. So far the Resistance had neither questioned her nor killed her. She'd been escorted to this room when they first arrived, and had been effectively ignored since then, save for periodic checks by assorted Resistance agents. The lack of attention had left her rather curious. She would have assumed that it was an interrogation technique—she had a great deal of experience with the power of fear prompted by a captive's own imagination—but she knew that they were aware of her CVI, and thus necessarily aware that straight questioning would be futile. It was possible that they planned to try and draw information directly from the CVI, but in that case, why hadn't they already done so? They had to know that the longer they held her here, the greater the risk to them. And they had to have something planned for her or they would have already killed her. As they would no doubt do once they were done with her. She studied the control panel again. It would have been within easy arm's reach if it weren't for the field in between. As it was, the panel might as well have been on the other side of the planet. She scowled at the thought and muttered a vivid curse in Irish.
"Imagine if your mother heard you speaking like that," said a cheerful voice, also in Irish. She looked up, startled. The Resistance pilot from the shuttle had entered the room, and stood in the doorway holding a tray of food. Her mouth began to water at the sight.
"You must be hungry," he said, switching to English. "I asked around and apparently they forgot to feed you after locking you up in here." She swallowed hard and fixed her expression into a tight glare. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing she was suffering.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"My name is Liam Kincaid," he said. He ignored the look she sent towards him.
"An Irish name," she said, "but you sound American. How did you come to speak Irish?"
"My mother was very proud of her Irish heritage," he replied with an odd smile. "She saw to it that I learned the language."
"Ah. And how would she feel, seeing you know?" Her gesture encompassed the room and the building beyond.
"I don't know," he replied. "She died when I was a few months old."
"I'm sorry," she said, noting the wistful expression in his eyes. He's the enemy, she reminded herself, trying to summon her anger of a moment ago. A terrorist, like all the others.
"Thanks," he said. He looked down at the tray in his hands. "If I bring down the force field for a minute, will you promise not to zap me? Or do I need to call in some extra guns?"
"From what I saw on the ship, it wouldn't do me much good to attack you," she said dryly.
"I'm going to take that as an assurance that you won't," he said, moving closer. He balanced the tray on one had and tapped the control panel with the other. The field buzzed and disappeared. She watched as he stepped inside the cell and carefully set the tray on the table, keeping his eyes fixed on her the entire time. He backed out of the cage slowly and reactivated the field. She waited for him to leave, but instead he pulled up a chair and sat down. She hesitated for a moment, then sat down at the table.
"How are you holding up?" he asked.
"Not as well as I would be if you let me go."
"Sorry. I don't think we can do that quite yet." He nodded towards the tray. "You should eat before it gets cold."
"The Taelons will kill you when they find out what you've done," she noted. She pulled the bowl of soup closer to herself and tried a spoonful. The soup was thick and smooth and sweet, and quelled her hunger nicely. She began to eat it at a faster pace.
"They have to find me first," Kincaid said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, legs stretched out in front of him.
"You know that you'll have to kill me to prevent me from telling them."
"I hope not," he replied seriously.
"What do you care?" she asked. "I'm the enemy." She cursed herself as she realized she was softening towards him again.
Kincaid uncrossed his arms and rubbed his left palm absently. "You're not my enemy, Agent Beckett," he said gently.
"Then you're a fool," she said with as much ice as she could muster.
"Maybe," he agreed with a small smile. She took another spoonful of soup and looked over at him. He disarms me, she thought. With no effort at all, he renders me defenseless. As if he could read my soul. She shivered at the thought.
"What are you?" she asked abruptly. "I saw you on the mothership…no human should have been able to do what you did."
"Very observant, Agent Beckett," he said teasingly. "I'm not human. At least not entirely. I'm a human-alien hybrid." She caught a hint of self-aversion in the last statement.
"Alien," she repeated. "Taelon?"
"Not exactly. The Taelons aren't the only other race in the universe."
"I realize that," she said impatiently. "So should we be preparing for more arrivals?" He shook his head.
"I'm the last of my kind," he replied with an odd mix of nonchalance and sorrow. "There won't be any others."
"What happened to the rest?"
"The alien who created me was the last of his kind. He died before I was born."
"How did he die?"
"He was killed by the Taelons," he replied. "As were the rest of his people."
"So that's why you're trying to destroy them now," she said. She swallowed the last mouthful of soup and reached for a sandwich.
"I'm not trying to destroy them at all," he replied. "I just want to make sure that they don't destroy us. The human race is all I have left."
"And you think the best way to protect us is through the Liberation?" she asked doubtfully.
He shrugged. "I have to work with what's available, Agent Beckett."
"What does your human family think of all this? You said that your mother is dead. What about the rest?"
"They don't know," he replied. "My mother didn't really get a chance to tell her family about me, and my human father isn't currently aware of my existence."
"Don't you think you ought to tell him?" she asked. Liam shook his head.
"I don't think he'd be very happy about it," he said. "Ha'gel, my alien father, used him without his knowledge or consent. He had no say in my creation."
"You don't think he deserves a chance to decide for himself how he feels?"
"It's too much of a risk," said Liam. "My father works for the Taelons. If he were to tell them about me, they'd kill me."
"Because they'd assume you want revenge?"
"Something like that."
"Couldn't you go to your mother's people, then?" He shook his head again.
"That's too much of a risk for them. Knowledge of my existence would be dangerous for everyone."
"Three parents and no family. That's very sad," she said. "We all need family. They provide us with roots."
"Maybe someday," he said. He changed the subject. "How do you feel about the Taelons now?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling light eyes lock onto her with sudden intensity. She looked away from him to escape. "How do I feel about what they did to your people?"
"No," he replied. "How do you feel about what they've done here? You've worked for them almost since their arrival. You've been on the frontlines. You've seen most of the good they've done—peace treaties, feeding the hungry, medical advancements. You've also seen some of the worst, like the Resistance crackdowns, and what they did to Ryan. When you add it all up, what do you think of them?"
"I don't know," she admitted slowly. "When they first came, I thought…"
"You thought that any beings who could end the bloodshed and unite Ireland deserved respect."
"Yes," she agreed. "I looked to that, and I looked to their promises. Promises they kept," she added with more confidence. "How many people live because of Taelon technology and Taelon medical advancements?"
"And how many people are dead because of Taelon experiments?" he asked. He sat up straight and leaned towards her. "How many lives saved make up for the loss of a child? How many people would have made up for Ryan."
She paused. "You know my weaknesses," she said. She raised her head and met his gaze. "I don't know how to weigh the good against the bad anymore," she admitted.
"I can't help you there," he said. "That's something we each have to decide for ourselves. But when you're trying to decide, think about not only what the Taelons have already done, but what they plan to do." He stood up and deactivated the force field. "Maybe this will help," he said, setting something on the table beside her. She picked it up as he activated the field again.
"Raido," she said, fingering the stone. "Inner journeys. Communication." She looked up. "You know the runes."
"It was my mother's," he said. "One of the few things I have left of her."
She looked at him thoughtfully. "What you said on the mothership, about why I joined the military, why I chose to serve the Taelons…how do you know so much about me? There aren't many people in this world who know those things."
"Well, I'm not exactly from this world." He paused, and she waited for him to continue.
"I'm from a parallel dimension. A world very like this one, save for a few key differences. Such as the fact that I don't exist here."
"And how does that explain you knowing my reasons for serving the Companions?" she asked.
"I knew your counterpart in my world," he said.
"Knew?"
He nodded slowly. "She died a few months ago," he said quietly. "A climbing accident."
She looked at him silently for a moment. "Was she Resistance too?" He shook his head.
"No, she was a Companion protector, the same as you."
"Then how did you come to know her?"
"In that world, I'm also a Companion protector. I work as a deep cover operative for the Resistance."
"And how did you get around the motivational imperative?"
"I managed to avoid getting implanted," he replied. He extended his arm for her to see. "I think Da'an had become a little disillusioned with the effect of CVIs by that point."
"You're Da'an's protector? What about Commander Boone?"
"In my world, Boone died in service to the Companions just over a year ago," he replied. "I was his replacement."
"One operative replaced by another. How fortunate for the Resistance." She paused. "How does Boone manage to get around his motivational imperative, since he actually has a CVI?"
"The MI component was removed from his CVI before it was implanted."
"So he was with the Liberation from the start," she said. "I had the wrong target all along. Or is Captain Marquette also Resistance?"
He shrugged. "You'd have to ask her that."
"Why did you become a Companion protector? Doesn't that increase the risk to you?"
"I told you," he said, "I have to work with what's available. And I don't think I can effectively protect either the humans or the Taelons unless I have direct access to both sides."
"So you're both a faithful protector and a loyal Resistance agent? That must be a challenge."
"It's not as hard as you think," he said. "Da'an is one of the few Taelons with a genuine respect for humanity. In protecting him, I believe I'm serving the interests of both humans and Taelons." He took a step back from the force field. "I have to go. I'll be back later on to see if you need anything." He turned to leave.
"Mr. Kincaid," she called. He looked at her inquiringly. "How are Agent Sandoval and his son?"
"Ryan seems to be fine," he replied, "although the doctors still aren't sure what the Taelons were doing to him. Agent Sandoval is a little worse off."
"I didn't think he'd been injured on the mothership."
"He wasn't. He collapsed after we got back. They're running tests now."
"I see," she said slowly, recalling the odd attraction she'd felt towards the man on the shuttle.
Kincaid started towards the door, then paused and twisted his head in her direction, springing that oddly familiar grin on her once again. "Agent Beckett? Call me Liam." He was out the door before she could respond.