With a sigh, Boone shut off the display of the newly revised security plans for Da'an's next public appearance and leaned back in his seat. It had been a long night followed by a longer day, and he didn't expect that tonight would be any better. Too bad my CVI doesn't eliminated the need for sleep, he lamented dryly, and then laughed softly at himself. For someone who had once been so disturbed by the thought of letting someone—anyone—shove something into his brain, he was coming to rely on that bit of alien technology to a sometimes-frightening degree. If nothing else, he decided, the Taelons know something about efficiency.
His mind wandered to the source of his long, sleepless night. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the two visitors. Augur…well, Augur still seemed to be Augur. A ghost clothed in flesh and blood that disconcertingly refused to acknowledge its own demise. He found himself instinctively trusting the man—at least as far as he had ever trusted the real Augur—but that trust was tempered by an awareness of the unreliability of his instincts in this matter. It was difficult for him to gauge how much of his trust stemmed from an accurate reading of the man now here, and how much was based on that same man's ability to capture the gestures and the intonations of his counterpart so precisely. Truthfully, the only one who could vouch for the alternate Augur's politics was Kincaid, and Kincaid was even more troubling in his way than Augur. The incident from the mothership flashed effortlessly before Boone's eyes, every detail standing out with CVI-enhanced clarity: rounding the corner into the shuttlebay just in time to watch the Volunteer fire at Kincaid, the brief purple-white glimmer as Kincaid caught the blast, Kincaid's look of muted surprise as he stared down at his own hands. And later, the hidden flash of apprehension when he told them what he was. Not to mention all the things he undoubtedly hadn't told them yet. Kincaid was an enigma if ever there was one: an alien who walked and talked like a man, driven by some mix of human and alien instincts and impulses, serving the destroyers of his people out of a sense of racial duty. Boone wasn't sure whether or not he trusted the man; too much of the story was yet unknown. But in the short time he had known Kincaid, he had come to like the man. He respected Kincaid's willingness to defy Jonathan Doors, and admired the dedication to preventing unnecessary deaths that he had demonstrated on the mothership. If only he knew for certain what motivated the man…
Boone's reverie was interrupted by the entry of a Volunteer.
"Da'an would like to see you."
"I'll be right there," he replied. He stood and stretched out the kinks acquired from sitting for far too long. As he made his way to Da'an's audience chamber, he puzzled over Da'an's reasons for sending an intermediary rather than contacting him directly. Convenience, or something else? he wondered.
Da'an was staring through the virtual glass at the city below when Boone entered the room. Without turning, the Taelon spoke.
"There was an incident on the mothership last night."
"I know," replied Boone. He walked over to Da'an's chair and slowly ran a hand along the arm.
"Yes, you were the first to find the Volunteers in the shuttlebay." Da'an turned away from the window to look directly at him. "I was not aware that your duties required your presence on the mothership last night."
"I needed to talk to Agent Samuels about next week's hospital opening," replied Boone calmly, pulling his hand away from the chair.
"Were you able to find him?"
"No, the alarm sounded before I got a chance to talk to him." As always, there was a half-second of heart stopping terror while he waited to see if Da'an accepted his excuse. Apparently it satisfied him; he nodded once and turned back to the window. Boone released a small sigh of relief. Da'an had been growing increasingly suspicious of late, leading Boone to wonder how much he knew about his protector's other activities. Boone walked across the room to join the Companion at the window.
"Zo'or has requested that I assign you to aid Agent Samuels in investigating the incident. He wants both Ryan Sandoval and his father captured and returned to the mothership."
"I'll do what I can," said Boone. He hesitated, then added, "Da'an, what were you doing to him?"
"The child?"
"Yes."
"His presence was intended to lure Agent Sandoval onto the mothership. Zo'or believes that Agent Sandoval will be able to provide us with extensive information about the Resistance."
"If Ryan was intended solely as bait, why does he need to be returned to the mothership?"
"I do not know," admitted Da'an. "Zo'or has not seen fit to inform me of his reasons."
"If it becomes general knowledge that the Taelons were using children as bait, the public will be very unhappy," noted Boone.
Da'an's gaze slid from the window to the man beside him. "Ryan Sandoval was in no danger from us," he said.
"He could have been injured in the rescue."
"The responsibility for that rests with his father, not with us. It was his father who chose to undertake the rescue. And to betray us in the first place."
Calm, he reminded himself. You're an Implant—no judgement, just mild curiosity. "And you're not at all troubled by any of this?"
Da'an stared at him silently for a moment. "I am glad that the child was apparently uninjured," he replied at last. "He is not responsible for his father's choices, and should not have to suffer for them."
"As he suffered with the death of his mother?"
"That was…unfortunate."
Unfortunate indeed, thought Boone. It drove Sandoval straight to us. "I don't suppose Sandoval's betrayal is the reason Zo'or is so fixed on him?"
"I believe Zo'or thinks it reflects badly on us that one of our former agents now fights so assiduously against us."
"According to the Volunteers, he had help escaping from the ship."
"Yes," agreed Da'an. He waved one hand thoughtfully. "I encountered the man who helped him."
"You saw him?" said Boone with feigned surprise. "What happened?"
"It was a brief encounter," said Da'an. "But most interesting. He seemed very…unusual for a human."
"What makes you think that?"
"A feeling," replied Da'an. He tilted his head, examining his protector. "Instinct, if you will. I would appreciate it if you would pass along to me any information you recover concerning this man."
"Taelon instincts," said Boone with a wry smile. "I'll tell you anything I learn, Da'an. But I suspect that he was just another Resistance fighter."
"Perhaps you are right," said Da'an. "At any rate, Zo'or has not requested further action concerning this individual. Therefore, there is no need to include information about him in any reports Zo'or receives."
"Of course," said Boone. "If you don't need me for anything else, I…" He was interrupted by the opening of a data stream. It was Zo'or, looking as close to worried as Boone had ever seen him.
"A ship has been spotted approaching Earth," said the Taelon abruptly.
"What type of ship?" asked Da'an with concern.
"We have not been able to identify it," said Zo'or. "The technicians believe that they may be unaware of our presence as they have not yet attempted to communicate with us. I will send you the data."
"I understand," said Da'an. "Please keep me informed of further developments." He waved his hand to close the data stream.
"What does that mean?" asked Boone.
"I do not know," said Da'an. "We have not encountered a new race in this fashion in a very long time. You may leave now, Boone. Begin your investigation. I will examine the data from the ship and see what I can learn."
"I'll report back as soon as I learn anything," said Boone. Da'an was already examining the data as he left the room.
"Enough!" exclaimed Sandoval sharply.
"You should be in bed," insisted Dr. Park.
"How is my remaining in bed going to help you find a treatment any faster?" he demanded.
"That's not the point," she replied in exasperation. "You need rest. Look at you! You can barely stand. Ron, that wasn't just a blackout. You suffered a total metabolic collapse. It could happen again at any time, and you might not survive the next attack."
"And I'm more likely to survive if I'm lying down?" he asked dryly.
"You're more likely to survive if I have equipment on hand to help you," she replied persistently.
"Melissa, headquarters isn't that big, and you have enough monitoring equipment attached to me to run a small hospital. I have every faith in your ability to respond promptly if something goes wrong. But right now, I need to work."
"You won't be of much use to the Resistance if you're dead!"
"Which is why I need to get as much done as possible before that happens," he snapped.
The doctor was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone was gentle "All right, Ron. You can stay here and work. But take it easy. Don't over-exert yourself; you need to conserve your strength."
"I understand."
"I'm going to go check on some of those test results. If I can narrow down what kind of blood disorder you've got, I'll be able to investigate the treatment options."
"Let me know when you find something," said Sandoval. He watched Dr. Park leave, and then sat down at his workstation. He sensed rather than saw the presence at his elbow a moment later.
"Is there something I can do for you, Major?"
"Funny," said Kincaid, "I was just going to ask you the same thing."
Sandoval reluctantly twisted his head to look at the other man. "I'm fine," he said stiffly, wishing Kincaid would leave him alone.
"That's not the impression I got from your conversation with Dr. Park," said Kincaid. He dropped into the chair beside Sandoval. "She seems a bit concerned about you."
"And what difference does that make to you, Major?" he asked coldly.
"I can't be concerned about a colleague, Agent Sandoval?"
"Oh, spare me," said Sandoval angrily. "We aren't colleagues, Kincaid, and we certainly aren't friends. We're not even from the same universe. You don't exist in my world; we're on opposite sides in yours."
Kincaid regarded him silently for a moment. "For as long as I'm in this universe, Sandoval, we're on the same side.
"And who says I want you on my side, Major?" Kincaid looked surprised at that. Encouraged, Sandoval carried on, suddenly tired of this man who insisted on helping him for no discernable reason and fought to protect the lives of allies and enemies alike with equal ferocity. "You seem to think that you can work for both sides at the same time, trying to bind humans and Taelons into one equal, glorious partnership. I have news for you, Kincaid: it's not going to work. We're on a collision course, and only one race is going to survive. One race will determine the future. What you need to decide is which one you want it to be. And until you've made that decision—and are prepared to do whatever it takes to see it through—I don't want to fight beside you." He stopped and waited for the inevitable outburst of righteous rage. This time, it was Sandoval who was surprised. There was no anger on Kincaid's face, only thoughtfulness, and a hint of sorrow.
"He really hurt you, didn't he?" he asked softly.
"Who?"
"Da'an. You trusted him, served him faithfully…believed in him. And then when you tried to preserve something for yourself, he cast you aside. He repaid your loyalty with betrayal, your devotion with negligence."
Sandoval stared into the compelling green eyes in front of him. There was something oddly personal about the litany…something painful. "He betrayed you too?" he asked tentatively.
Kincaid nodded silently. Around them, the room fell still, as if everyone had simultaneously run out of words.
"It wasn't just being asked to leave the Companion service," said Sandoval after a moment. "I could have lived with that. I would have understood. But they couldn't leave it alone. Couldn't leave me alone. They knew what my family meant to me, and they took…" He paused to take a deep breath and choked back a sob. "They took her away from me. Another damn Taelon experiment. Da'an knew, and he let them do it. When I found out, I begged him to let her go. He told me he couldn't endanger his position in the Synod by helping someone who had so clearly demonstrated his lack of loyalty to the Taelons."
"He used me to take out most of the Resistance cell leaders," said Liam. "He claimed he needed to reestablish his position with Zo'or. For the survival of his species. I would have helped him if I'd known, found another way. It's my job to protect him. But he didn't trust me enough to tell me. Instead, he used me."
"And yet you still work for him."
Liam shrugged. "I still believe that Da'an is humanity's best chance at an equal partnership with the Taelons, and I'm not yet ready to believe that that's impossible. Humans and Taelons are bound together; we have to find a way to make the relationship work."
Sandoval shook his head. "It can't be done," he said. "At least not now. Maybe in a few million years, when we can meet them on equal footing and demand our rights, but not now."
"It has to be now," insisted Liam. "The Taelons don't have a few million years. They need us now."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, exactly. It's a feeling I have, a sense of urgency. Something I inherited from Ha'gel."
Sandoval stared at him. "They slaughtered your race, betrayed you personally…and still you want to help them? You really aren't human, are you, Liam?"
"Why? Humans aren't capable of forgiveness?"
"Humans have more of a survival instinct."
"Sandoval!" came a voice from across the room. Doors strode towards them, followed closely by Augur. "Boone just contacted us. He said he has important news. He and Marquette are on their way back now."
"What kind of news?" asked Liam.
"He didn't say," said Augur, rubbing his hands excitedly. "Just that it was big."
"They'll be here in a few minutes," said Doors. "I want all of you there."
"So you've finally decided to trust us, Jonathan?" asked Liam.
"For now," said Doors. "I'll let you know my final decision later on."
"Final decision…like a bullet through the back of the head if you don't?"
"Whatever it takes, Major."