FIC: Inguz (Earth: Final Conflict)

[bjewelled]

Title: Inguz
Author: Jewels (bjewelled)
Website: http://www.b-jewelled.co.uk/
Fandom: Earth: Final Conflict
Disclaimer: I think it's Alliance Atlantis for this one? Yeah, still, not mine.
Summary: An AU story. What if Siobhan had been picked up by the Taelons right before she gave birth, rather than the Resistance?
Word Count: 9,752



There were many things about Humanity that Da'an did not claim to understand. Certainly he had a thorough grounding in a great number of details, both scientific and cultural, that contributed to the overall picture that was Homo Sapiens (such an arrogant name, when one thought about it), but one thing that still brought him pleasure in his tenure as an Earth-based diplomat was that the species still had the capacity to surprise him, even after all these years.

For example, he had never seen a Human birth. Nor did he realise how apparently painful it was for the mother. Siobhan Beckett's yelling had made it through the walls to the observation zone where Da'an and Zo'or were standing side by side, watching now as the Lieutenant sagged back on the medical bay's singular bed, her hair drenched with sweat and her eyes unfocused as she gasped for breath. Mit'gai was ignoring her obvious distress to run scans over her body while another, smaller Taelon removed a small bundle that wriggled and screamed its own annoyance.

Astonishing, he thought, and felt himself lose control of his façade briefly, as he imagined the future contained within that tiny body.

Zo'or seemed fascinated. "One would think it counter-productive," he said, "To experience such pain in the reproductive process. Surely it would be a barrier to procreation; do Humans not fear such pain?"

"An afterthought of evolution," Da'an said, gesturing to his own body, a mimicry of the Human form, in illustration. "The body straightens, allows upright walking, meaning that the pelvic bones are not in the ideal position to allow easy childbirth. In advancing one aspect of themselves, others have suffered." He tilted his head. "Not unlike ourselves."

Zo'or still seemed faintly amazed, not matter how much he failed to appreciate the comparison.

Beckett had apparently managed to draw some of her strength together, and she was letting loose with an astonishing torrent of idiomatic Gaelic abuse in Mit'gai's direction. He looked a little surprised, but didn't respond, only taking his scanner and leaving the room. With him gone, Beckett's strength deserted her, and she sagged back again.

Mit'gai reported to the two diplomats once he stepped outside. "As you can see," he said, "Ha'gel disabled her CVI."

"Clearly," Zo'or agreed, dryly. "Did Ha'gel make any other changes to her body, to enable her to carry the hybrid?"

Mit'gai slowly shook his head. "Her brain remains unchanged. There appears to have been a small amount of residual energy in her system, to allow for the physical changes of pregnancy to occur so rapidly with so little trauma to the Mother's system. Even now, however, those changes are fading. Within a few hours, it would be difficult to tell that she had ever given birth."

Zo'or looked at Da'an, the two of them conferring, silently. As the only two Synod members on Earth, dealing with this matter fell to them. Da'an inclined his head slowly, stepping around Mit'gai, heading for the doorway.

The medical bay of the Embassy was quiet, isolated by necessity and for comfort, and only the vague hum of the buildings internal workings could be heard, though muffled and muted. Breaking the silence was a child, crying, and the harsh breathing of its mother. Li'sha, Mit'gai's assistant, was standing over the child, who had been placed carefully on a bioslurry extrusion, and was waving a scanner over him. Da'an could easily see that the child was male, and so deceivingly Human looking.

Did Ha'gel hope he would fit in? He wondered, as he looked at the boy. Did he hope he would find a place of his own amongst a people who would look upon him with fear, as my own kind do?

Da'an glanced at Li'sha, who nodded slowly, and Da'an reached down, gingerly picking up the child, wrapping him carefully in the warm piece of medical blanket that had been cut down for him. As he cradled the child gently, settling him into his arms, some part of him marvelled at the instinct for handling a young one which had somehow survived in his species through their transition from biology to energy. There was no chemical instinct to carefully cradle a child thus, but it was still there.

The child's crying trailed off to a sort of hiccuping sniffle. Da'an looked down at the tiny hybrid, almost swamped by the shimmering material.

"So very Human," he mused, and tried to decide whether he was marvelling at that fact, or lamenting it.

Across the medical bay, Siobhan Beckett raised her head and started at him, blinking rapidly as she struggled to focus. She tugged futilely at the restraints about her wrist that firmly held her in place. "Liam," she whispered, her voice hoarse, and desperate.

"A noble name," Da'an said, turning towards her.

Beckett stared, her eyes fixed desperately on her child. "Ha'gel showed me everything," she said, "What you did to his race." She licked her lips, looking frantic. "Please, don't hurt my baby." Tears were welling in her eyes.

Da'an shook his head. "Rest assured, Agent Beckett, no harm will come to the hybrid." He looked down at the tiny face that was staring at him in open curiosity, and amended, "To Liam."

Beckett tugged at her wrist restraints again, but only on her left side. Her skrill had been removed as a precautionary measure, and her right forearm was swathed in bandages and doubtlessly very painful. "Please," she said, begging, "Let me take him and go. He'll never hurt you."

Da'an gave the child's back a gentle pat as he started to sniffle again, beginning to cry. He wondered if the child had an empathic connection to his mother that allowed him to sense her distress. "We will take good care of him," he assured, wrapping the blankets a little more securely around the infant as he turned away.

Beckett's voice, cursing him, begging him, demanding of him, followed him out of the room as he passed through the virtual glass barrier that kept the bay isolated, then disappeared entirely as the sound dampening kicked in. The baby, however, was not so easily silenced. Da'an rocked him as he spoke to Mit'gai.

"Replace her CVI," he ordered, "It is best that she not remember any of this. I will take the hybrid to the Mothership."

Mit'gai inclined his head, and left to carry out his instructions.

That left Da'an alone with a crying child and Zo'or, who was staring at the infant with a somewhat wide-eyed expression. Da'an felt a shadow of amusement. He stepped forward, and Zo'or looked startled as he gleaned Da'an's intentions through the Commonality. He cautiously extended his own arms, and Da'an carefully laid the small and wriggling bundle there.

Zo'or seemed uncertain to say the least, and it took Da'an's guiding of his hands for him to hold the child correctly and securely, but once that was done, Da'an wondered if he would have to forcibly pry the hybrid away. Zo'or stared raptly at the small being, who was still making such a noise.

"So Human," Zo'or murmured, unknowingly echoing Da'an's sentiments.

Da'an tilted his head. "Is that to the good or the ill of us?" he wondered.

Zo'or looked at him thoughtfully, but declined to answer, hugging the child a little closer and leading the way to the shuttles.

**

In the interests of keeping the existence of the child within the confines of their own race, it was a Taelon pilot who was waiting for them aboard the shuttle, who took one look at the child and blushed a deep cerulean before he waved them on board and took them up through the atmosphere and to the Mothership in a surprisingly smooth flight. From there to the areas of the Mothership off-limits to the slowly growing Human crew complement, hidden deep within the medical decks, and to a facility the Synod had ordered especially, medical unit and crèche all in one.

Taelons lined the hallways, staring, whispering in words and in thoughts, as Da'an and Zo'or passed by them, carrying the child. A hope? A fear? No one could seem to decide which future the infant hybrid represented. But they knew he was significant. The last remnant of the Kimera.

Gi'ra was waiting for them when they reached their destination, a warm room with a hodge-podge collection of things that might appeal to a Human child, hastily assembled by Taelons on Earth and sent to the Mothership. Of course, it was rather hard to judge what an alien child would find acceptable, so there were some oddities. Crudely painted wooden blocks sat side-by-side with musical instruments that would surely be too complicated for a child, and amongst them were toys more suitable for Taelon infants, extruded from patterns that had not been used in centuries.

Gi'ra had been a crèche master. The last one of their race, it had turned out. He had a hand in Zo'or's education as the last of their kind, but Zo'or had always chosen to remain closer to his own parent. Gi'ra had only stepped in to ensure, as Zo'or had reached the appropriate age, that he had developed his own distinct personality, away from the genetic memories of his three parents. From the gentle manner in which they greeted one another, Gi'ra and Zo'or still apparently held a mutual respect for one another.

"He is so small," Gi'ra said, amazed, reaching up to touch a finger to the hybrid's delicate skull.

The child had quietened since they had left Earth. Whether this was because his Mother had doubtlessly been re-implanted and calmed, or whether because of distance, was uncertain. But he had been examining everything within his field of view with open curiosity. When Gi'ra touched him, little blue sparks were pulled from the Taelon's hands, and the child giggled.

Gi'ra looked surprised. "Rudimentary energy request," he murmured, and motioned for Zo'or to hand him over.

Surprisingly, Zo'or hesitated for a moment, before he gently handed over the child. Gi'ra bowed his head slightly. "I will keep you informed of his progress," he said, and took the child inside the makeshift crèche

Drawn, the two Synod members moved to the virtual glass observation window, and watched the inside of the room for a moment. Da'an had fallen silent and Zo'or realised with irritation that his parent was staring at him.

"What do you find so fascinating?" he demanded.

Da'an arced one hand apologetically. "It simply did not occur to me before this moment," he said, smiling faint and turning his attention back through the observation window. "You have never seen an infant offspring."

Zo'or raised a hand. "Of our own species. Humans do not count."

Da'an regarded the younger Taelon fondly. "Deceive yourself if you wish," he said, "I am not so easily fooled."

Zo'or made a sound of irritation. "We are required on the bridge," he said, and walked away, without looking back.

Da'an could not pretend to uncaring so easily. He stared through the virtual glass at Liam, who Gi'ra was showing around the room, pointing things out as if the child could understand him already.

Given his heritage, perhaps he could. Da'an, his thoughts numerous, set the glass to opaque, and followed behind Zo'or.

**

The mixture of excitement and anxiety, two concepts which had so long been absent from the Taelon consciousness, were almost palpable in the gathering of the Synod on the bridge. Only Quo'on appeared grave, quietly seated upon the main dais, his Human façade in place, and his eyes half-closed. To a Human, he might have appeared to be asleep.

"This is an unparalleled opportunity," Gi'mor was saying, "At such a time when we need to learn more about integrating Human and energyform genetics, Ha'gel has provided us with the perfect case for examination."

Diminuitive S'sai was more cautious. "A Kimera in our midst, even a hybrid one, is dangerous. They possessed of the ability to render the Commonality asunder, and he has every reason to want to do this to us."

"Ha'gel did not attempt to do so," Ba'rai pointed out.

"Ha'gel," S'sai returned, "Did not have the opportunity."

"It is possible," Da'an ventured, from his position near the dais, "That he is unable to consciously accessed Ha'gel's genetic memories. Only one third of his DNA is Kimera, correct?"

Ju'ron, the Synod member who also functioned as the most senior of the Scientific Caste, nodded in agreement.

"Then perhaps he will be overshadowed by his Human component," Zo'or said, continuing the thought. "He will be... malleable."

"I believe we have more to gain," Da'an said, throwing a reproving glance at the younger Taelon, "From making an ally of this young hybrid. Not by dissecting him," Gi'mor flicked his fingers in annoyance, "Or by manipulating him." Zo'or just returned Da'an's look evenly.

"I am unsurprised you say this, Da'an," Quo'on finally spoke, raising his head and slowly opening his eyes. "The birth of this hybrid appears to vindicate your conviction that Humanity is capable of a full joining with the Taelon species."

S'sai swayed to the side a little, interrupting, his voice disgusted. "It was a joining with a Kimera, not a Taelon."

Quo'on's voice was sharp. "We all carry the Kimera within us. Millions of years ago, we were all Kimera hybrids. The Commonality was forged by the Kimera. All that we are, we took from them. Do not forget that." For a second, the force of personality that had made this apparently quiet member of the Bureaucratic Caste the leader of the Synod shone through.

S'sai hurriedly made a gesture of agreement, and Quo'on's ire subsided as quickly as it appeared, his form returning to a state of languor. Zo'or gave Da'an a significant look, before stepping forward to speak. He had always had a habit of translating forceful words in physical action.

Sometimes Da'an thought it was very much like Yu'dor, though he would never tell Zo'or as such.

"We all know why we are here, at this world," Zo'or said, pacing before the Synod members, who all turned to follow his movement. "We are here to save our species from annihilation at the hands of the Jaridians, and destruction at the slightly more unfeeling hands of our own physiology. Our Kimera hybrid may not only be able to provide us with information in his genetics about how Taelon energy may be merged with Humans to provide us with warriors capable of defending against the Jaridian shaqarava, but in his mind he may hold the information of the Kimera, knowledge no other species amassed. He may even know where the repository worldships are."

Ju'ron jerked his head. "The worldships are... mythical."

"And if they are not?" Gi'mor, another scientist, was bobbing up and down in thoughtful agreement.

"We have a plan here on Earth," Quo'on pointed out, staring at Zo'or with slightly narrowed eyes. "A timetable we should be keeping to. Our course is set upon, and we do not have time to go chasing myths or wasting our energies on converting a child to our side."

"Think of it," Zo'or continued, as if Quo'on had not spoken. As he moved, he looked into the faces of each of the Synod members, as if speaking directly to them. "Even if our own attempts to merge energetic and biologic materials fails, we still have in our possession a Kimera hybrid, who may be sympathetic to us, and willing to help us." He straightened, looking satisfied, knowing he had made his point.

There was a faint whispering in the Commonality, as the Synod's opinion swung rapidly in favour of Zo'or. Quo'on's eyes flickered from Zo'or to the assembled group, and Da'an realised that Quo'on knew he couldn't compete with Zo'or's ability to sway others to his point of view. Quo'on might be a thorough, careful, methodical individual, but Zo'or was young, and filled with the passion borne of desperation. It was something that spoke well to the others.

Da'an abruptly realised that Quo'on had lost his hold over the Synod long ago. He wasn't moving fast enough for the liking of many Taelons. It was not unheard of for Taelons to effectively overthrow their leadership. The Commonality was not a hive mind; individuals could act in opposition to each other, especially in times like these, where the collective was stretched thin, and opinions were greatly divided. One such occurrence had happened nearly two million years ago, after the leader Ivi'a had failed to secure peace with the Jaridians, leading to their bitter and long-standing war. He had been removed from office, exiled, and replaced with the Synod. It was known as the greatest failing of the diplomatic caste, and a source of great shame.

Da'an absently wondered if Quo'on would be the next leader to suffer removal from his position. It hadn't happened for a few centuries, after all. Da'an rather thought that Zo'or was getting ahead of himself, however, if he was acting like he was already Synod leader. He stepped forward, not pacing as Zo'or did, but to draw attention to himself.

"Do not make the assumption that he will be easy to control," Da'an said, firmly, pretending not to notice the way that Zo'or's attention swung to him as it had not to Quo'on. "He will carry, thanks to Ha'gel, not only the memories of the Kimera, and all the thousands of species they absorbed, but two very strong-willed Human Implants. And Humans are not as easily manipulated as Zo'or likes to believe. The existence of this 'resistance' movement is proof of that."

"But," Zo'or raised a hand practically to eye level, "We are agreed in that he is worth more to us alive than not."

Da'an inclined his head, the two of them turning to look at Quo'on.

The Synod Leader seemed a little smaller in the face of a convinced Synod. "Very well," he said, "We will oversee the hybrid's continued development. He will live. But it remains to be seen what use he is to us." He glared at the Da'an and Zo'or. "And since you both seem so intent on this course of action, you two will be responsible for him."

"That is acceptable," Da'an said, Zo'or indicating his agreement, though it was clear he would rather have been given sole direction over the hybrid.

"But," Quo'on added, pinning the both of them with a firm stare, "Be aware that if I deem that this hybrid is a danger to the Taelons, you will have to deal with him appropriately. Am I clear?"

"Very," Zo'or said, looking smug, as if he'd already succeeded.

**

It was Li'sha who called Sandoval, from the medical bay at the Taelon Embassy in London, saying that Siobhan Beckett had been located, and since there was an active notification on her file from him, the medic took it he was interested in the information.

Ronald Sandoval was on the next portal projection to London and in the Embassy in Whitehall before the hour was up.

The medical bay wasn't in the same place as it was in the Washington Embassy, and he had to ask for directions, but when he arrived, it was to find Siobhan Beckett sitting on the edge of a medical bed, in light Taelon patient garb, with her right arms thoroughly bandaged and clearly missing its skrill. She had a slightly haunted look on her face.

"What happened?" he asked, before he realised that Li'sha was in the room and staring at him. He belatedly turned towards the Taelon, pretending to have addressed the question to him.

Li'sha tilted his head. "She was found wandering the streets in Manchester. We assume that she managed to find a portal from North America to the United Kingdom, but in her confused state, misidentified her destination. She appears to have amnesia. Other than that, there appears to be no physical trauma."

Siobhan had raised her fingers to her lips, rubbing them anxiously, and didn't seem to be paying attention to them.

Sandoval looked at her arm. "What happened to her skrill?"

"It was dead when we found her," Li'sha said, flatly. "We removed it before the creature succumbed to necrosis. She will be given a replacement as soon as the nerves in Agent Beckett's arms heal sufficiently."

"Thank you, luyuoi," Sandoval said, inclining his head politely.

Li'sha quirked a finger at the dismissal, but withdrew anyway, leaving the two Implants to themselves.

He reached out and took her free hand. "How do you feel?" he asked, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand gently, soothingly.

"Empty," Beckett said, her voice tremulous, "Hollow. I... can't explain it. I've never felt such loss, such... oh, dear lord, such pain..." Her hand dropped from her mouth, and she curled her arm around her midsection.

"I can get Li'sha," he offered, uncertainly.

Beckett shook her head. "Not that sort of pain," she clarified, "Heartsick. I don't understand. The last thing I remember... I was following... following someone through the streets and then... it's just a blank." She looked at him, and a glimmer of her old strength shone behind her eyes. "What happened?"

"To you? We don't know. But Boone managed to chase down Ha'gel inside a church. He killed the alien, but was badly injured himself." Sandoval looked at her closely. "I was wondering if you were there as well."

Beckett looked away. "I..." She took a deep breath, eyes narrowed, seeming to be calling upon everything her CVI could offer her. "Running. I just remember it was important to run. To... protect..." The words seemed to be forced, and she shook her head abruptly, unable to work things out. "But... something stopped me. Maybe Ha'gel caught me, or someone, the police..."

She abruptly jerked her hand out of his, frustrated. "I can't believe this," she said, harshly. "Something happened to me, and I feel I should remember it."

"You should take some time," he told her, "Your CVI will help you remember, eventually. Maybe you just need to give yourself time to recover."

Beckett took a deep breath, and offered a faint, tremulous smile. "Maybe," she said, in vague agreement.

A though occured to him. "By the way," Sandoval said, "You left your handbag in the Washington Embassy. I'll have it sent over here."

Beckett nodded absently, as if she'd forgotten all about it. Obviously, it wasn't very high on her list of priorities. "Thank you," she said. One hand absent-minded rubbed her abdomen, as if she were in pain. She didn't seem too distressed though.

He settled a hand on her shoulder. "I'll let you get some rest," he said, "Call me anytime, day or night, if you need anything, alright?"

Siubhan seemed to see him properly for the first time, and smiled, a little more genuinely this time, her eyes slightly watery. "Thanks," she said, "I'll be alright." She leaned back and said, "Not the worst injuries I've ever had." As a joke, it fell flat, and she knew it.

Greatly daring, since if they were spotted by Li'sha or another Taelon, it would not be appreciated, he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She seemed rather surprised, drawing back and giving him an odd look.

"Sorry," she said, "Not that I object, that just... seemed familiar somehow." She shook her head sharply. "I'm more out of it than I thought."

Sandoval smiled gently at her. "Get some rest," he said, before heading out to return to the Embassy, hopefully before anyone noticed he'd been gone.

**

The changes to the young hybrid in such a short time were nothing less that startling. Human children, to Taelon eyes, grew up remarkably quickly. Taelon infants took several decades to accrete enough peripheral energy to increase their physical bodies to their adult size. Yesterday, Liam had been a squirming baby. Today, he was a small toddler.

"It is logical," Da'an pointed out, as they stood, watching Liam play with his toys, Gi'ra watching over him from the sidelines, from outside the room, in an observation room separated by an opaque virtual glass shielding, not unlike the one in the Embassy's medical bay. "No doubt Ha'gel intended for Liam to be able to fit into the Human population and survive on his own. He could not do that as a child; accelerating his growth only makes sense."

Zo'or didn't seem to agree. "You ascribe motivations and plans where none may exist. A simple biological imperative may be more likely: as the last of his species, Ha'gel was driven to reproduce, and to do so quickly. Possibly the child's own will drives it. If he does indeed hold the knowledge of all his parents, he will know that rapid growth is an asset."

"Ha'gel had a great deal of time to think of a plan," Da'an said, "He was sealed in exile for millions of years, after all."

"Making it all the more likely," Zo'or said, "That his vessel arrived on Earth before Humanity had even evolved. How could he have known there was sentient life on this planet?"

Da'an inclined his head, conceding the point.

They were silent for a moment, watching Liam play.

"How is your Protector faring?" Zo'or asked after a moment.

Da'an gave him a sidelong look. "Released from medical, and finishing his recovery on Earth." He watched Zo'or for a moment. "Does that disappoint you?"

"I've had more important things to occupy my attention than your treacherous Implant," Zo'or said, dismissively, his eyes not leaving the sight of Liam clicking together blocks.

"Boone is not treacherous," Da'an said, sharply, "He has been loyal, MI or no."

Zo'or made a gesture with his hands indicating he consider the matter closed, and Da'an fell silent. Their difference of opinions regarding Boone was not a matter for discussion here.

"He does not look much like our great feared enemy," commented Zo'or, returning to their more pressing subject.

Da'an conveyed his disapproval through their psychic link. "You know full well what they did to us."

Zo'or shook his head impatiently. "I am aware of what happened," he said, "I have your memories." His eyes left Liam's for the first time, to meet Da'an's. "And Yu'dor and Bareth's." He turned back. "The Kimera saved us. We destroyed them in thanks. Lying to ourselves about what happened only reveals that we are ashamed of our actions."

Da'an tilted his head. "Bareth always thought so," he said, neutrally.

Zo'or would have frowned if he could have. "We are Taelon," he clarified, "We should never be ashamed of our actions."

Their conversation was disturbed by Mit'gai's arrival. The Taelon had obviously just come from his lab: he was still wearing the gauzy smocks that scientists favoured to protect their exocoverings.

"I have my preliminary report," he said, brusquely, "If you care for it."

Da'an nodded, and gestured that Mit'gai should speak.

Mit'gai glanced between them. "The hybrid's growth rate is approximately one thousand times that of normal. He should reach Human maturity in approximately two weeks, at this rate." He gestured to where the child had finished looping together a malii puzzle and was now concentrating on building something with wooden blocks. "We have provided him with both Taelon and Human toys, and while he shows no clear preference between the two, he is easily able to complete the Taelon infant educational puzzles, indicating that his mind is not wholly Human, in spite of his appearance."

"The shaqarava," Da'an said, urgently, "Has there been any sign of their emergence?"

Mit'gai wagged one finger in a negative fashion. "I am afraid not."

"Then it is possible that his Human genome obscures the function of his Kimera side," Zo'or said.

"While it is true that two thirds of his genetic structure is Human," Mit'gai said, slowly, "We have never had an opportunity to observe a first generation Kimera hybrid. It is impossible to predict what the results will be. Though he seems to have some sort of rudimentary energyform physiology, it is so deeply enmeshed with his Human biology that it is almost impossible for us to detect it."

"The Kimera," Zo'or said, "were shapeshifters."

Da'an bowed his head slightly in agreement. "Patience is clearly called for. Possibly he does not even know what his heritage provides him."

"He has not revealed to Gi'ra if that is the case," Mit'gai said. "In fact, he has not spoken at all, in spite of being physically capable of doing so."

"Perhaps he conforms to a Human timetable for mental development," Da'an mused.

"We shall see," Mit'gai said. He bowed stiffly and excused himself, citing experiments that he had left running in the lab, and the general incompetance of his staff to oversee them.

Zo'or was staring at the child again.

Da'an looked at his own child thoughtfully for a moment. "Do you find yourself concerned for him?" he asked, genuinely curious, attempting to discern the motivations for Zo'or's fascination. "Do you find yourself thinking of his own wellbeing, or merely what he can contribute to our species?"

"My priority," Zo'or said, evenly, "Is now and forever shall be the Taelon species."

"So you think nothing of this child?" Da'an said, greatly daring. "He is nothing more to you than an animate science experiment?"

"Just so."

Da'an wove a pattern in the air with his hands. "I see," he said, knowing that his words would sting, "I was thinking that such close attention was almost... parental."

Zo'or looked irritated and discomforted, and glanced in the direction of the shuttle bay. "I must depart," he said, "There is a meeting of the security council, and apparently United Nations is incapable of sneezing, never mind forming a resolution, without me to hold their hands."

Da'an hid his amusement through long practice and gestured his farewell to the younger Taelon, who stalked away, clearly unhappy with Da'an's words. Da'an paid his expression of ire no mind. Zo'or was too consummate a member of his Caste to be seen in such a foul mood by the Humans. Zo'or was many things, but he was certainly an accomplished diplomat.

And as for any unkindness in his words... it did Zo'or well to remember that he did not hold every member of the Synod in thrall of his force of personality, regardless of familial affiliation.

He turned his attention back to the small creche, and stepped inside. He nodded to Gi'ra, who stood by the wall, watching over his young charge like a sentry. Liam ignored the presence of the Taelons, focused on the puzzle in his hands, tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration.

Da'an found it so very like the images he'd studied of Human children that he had a disconcerting moment of despair that the child was nothing more than simply Human.

Liam scowled, and raised his head, eyes unerringly finding Da'an. He broke into a smile, before he went back to his puzzle.

"He does that," Gi'ra said, quietly, sounding almost amused at Da'an's bafflement.

Da'an turned to look at the creché master, indicating that he desired further explanation. Gi'ra was only too happy to oblige as he looked fondly at the child.

"He seems to have a peripheral awareness of us on a psychic level. Perhaps he is not even consciously knowing of it, but I believe he may be attuned to the Commonality in some respect."

Da'an tilted his head. "Mit'gai does not share your confidence in the presence of inHuman characteristics."

Gi'ra looped one hand in a slow circle. "Mit'gai is a true scientist," he allowed, "He is slow to trust in that which is not immediately quantifiable and exactly measured. And I believe that Ha'gel went to great pains to give the child the ability to hide from the Commonality."

Great pains that came to nothing, given that the Taelons had found Siubhan Beckett running through an alleyway, desperately trying to flee the police and Companion security. Perhaps if she'd found refuge in time, things might have evolved differently.

Da'an dismissed his own thoughts. Pointless speculation.

Liam crowed happily, as he solved the puzzle, sliding the final slats into place with unerring precision, and it lit up, painting the room with bright and colourful lights.

**

Siobhan Beckett stumbled through the door of her home, weary and not a little bit sore. Her muscles had an inexplicably persistent ache that wasn't immediately fading. But Li'sha had assured her there was nothing wrong with her some rest wouldn't cure, rest which Hu'on, the UK Companion, had been only too happy to provide.

It had been a rather odd meeting with her Taelon employer. If she had to quantify his actions towards Humans, it would have been cool. He had never displayed the fondness so clearly on display by Da'an, nor the disdain Zo'or favoured, so it had been a surprise to find Hu'on walking into the Embassy's medical bay when she had been gingerly pulling on her jacket.

He had looked at her for a long moment, and she'd had the eeriest sensation that he was trying to stare deep into her soul. Finally, he had told her that she had been through a great deal, and to go home and recuperate, and that when she returned, they would be having a long conversation.

Siobhan hadn't understood, but she had followed her orders, like a good soldier.

She kicked off her shoes inside the door, and tossed her jacket over the back of the sofa as she wandered into the living room, collapsing on the overstuffed furniture. She landed awkwardly on her right arm and winced. Of all her ills, her arm was the only true pain. Apparently the skrill she had just had removed had left neural barbs in her arm which meant that it would be rather painful for a while until healed. She had to admit, though, that she missed the little corner of her mind that had been the skrill. She hadn't even realised it was there til it was gone.

Was that what was leaving her empty? With the feeling that she'd lost something?

Siobhan thought about it for a long, hard moment. No, she finally decided. It was something deeper than an alien symbiote... something... something...

Frustrated, she got to her feet, and retrieved her handbag from where she'd dropped it by her shoes, rummaging through it as she returned to the sofa. Grateful that Sandoval had been so quick in sending her back her possessions from Washington, Siobhan clutched at the small roughly woven back hugging it to her for a moment before she settled back on the sofa.

Normally, she would prepare her mind and her body, ask for guidances from the Earth, the Goddess, the spirits, but that would require a calm mind and soul, and those were things she did not possess at that moment. So instead, she pushed a few cushions aside to make a space on her sofa and took a deep breath, attempting to quell the shaking in her hand.

"Why do I feel so empty?" she breathed, asking the question of herself, the runes, and the air around her.

She dipped her fingers into the bag, feeling the sensation of the coolly polished chips against her fingers, and, keeping her eyes closed, pulled three out, one at a time, and laid them out side by side. That done, she opened her eyes, and looked at them thoughtfully.

Jera, Perth, and Berkana.

Siobhan frowned. For anyone else, she might have been tempted to interpret that as a pregnancy, but if there was one thing she certain was not, it was pregnant.

She felt an old familiar pang at the thought. Children had never been a particular likelihood for her. First as career military, and now as an Implant, where the Taelons would not tolerate anything that could compromise an Implant's Imperative and their affections.

Still. It would have been nice. She would have quite liked a son. She'd always thought she'd call such a boy Liam. She thought about it, and imagined he'd be tall, charismatic, and have his grandfather's dark hair.

She gave a sad sort of laugh at her fancy, and gathered up her runes, returning them to their bag. It was one thing to consult with the runes on esoteric matters, it was another to let them distract her into sheer fantasy.

She stuffed the runes back into her handbag, and went to make herself a cup of tea.

**

The first time that Zo'or went to visit the hybrid child... Liam as his mother had so quaintly named him... without Da'an, the boy was sitting on the floor, and looking like he was five or six years old by Human standards. He was concentrating with great intensity on piling up coloured blocks, building them into abstract shapes.

Gi'ra, who had been sitting on a nearby chair, watching quietly, told him, "He sleeps much less than my research indicates is normal for a Human child, and he sustains concentration longer. He has been engaged in building with those blocks for two hours now."

As much as he looked Human, he clearly was nothing of the sort. Zo'or had grown experiencing memories of the Kimera, and in each of them, the recollections were tinged with the firm knowledge of that species as deceivers. Shape-shifters, the memories whispered, liars. Buried in those memories was the knowledge that the Kimera had been responsible for the salvation of their species, but it was hidden, as if the Commonality preferred to deny that linkage.

As an infant, Zo'or had attempted to raise the matter of this contradiction to his teachers. All had turned his queries aside with relentless repetition: the Kimera deserved their fate. Eventually, Zo'or had stopped asking. But Zo'or looked at this child, this last fragment of a dead species, and wondered what they had thought of the Taelons.

Zo'or looked at Gi'ra. "Please, leave us alone for a while." When Gi'ra hesitated, Zo'or reacted with annoyance. "I am not going to harm him. I merely wish to observe him alone."

Gi'ra, reluctantly, nodded, and stood. "I will be across the hallway if I am needed," he said, and spoke to Liam. "Liam, I will be leaving for a few minutes, is that alright?"

Liam said nothing, his tongue peeking out between his lips as he attempted to line up the blocks perfectly.

Gi'ra straightened, inclined his head to Zo'or, and left the room. Only when the bioslurry had irised closed completely did Zo'or turned to regard their young charge.

He tilted his head, contemplating the child. He wondered if the child, who looked so Human, would be disturbed if he simply allowed himself to fold to the deck to bring himself to the child's eye lines, pathways compressing and shifting. In the end, he decided, discretion was the better approach, and he opted for the mimicry of hips and knees, and sat down upon the floor, padded thickly for a vulnerable Human child, all matter and flesh and bones, legs crossed in the Human style.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked, curious, "Who Gi'ra is? Do you know of the Taelons?"

The child looked up at him, as if noticing his presence for the first time, and wordlessly held out the small wooden block in his hand. Zo'or blinked, nonplussed, before awkwardly taking it between thumb and middle fingers. The hybrid smiled, plucked a block of his own off the floor, putting it carefully into position on her shapeless tower. He looked at Zo'or expectantly.

The meaning was clear.

Zo'or, feeling vaguely foolish, although he knew there was no one there to see, put the cube in his hand on the pile in what he thought seemed to be the least precarious position. The child smiled and put another block of his own on the tower, and then paused.

No one could accuse Zo'or of being slow on the uptake. Realising what the child wanted, he picked up another block and put it in place.

This went on for quite some time, the two of them quietly moving block around. When they ran out of blocks, the arrangement completed into some strange and bizarre shape that bore no resemblance to anything in reality, the child would get up, move over to the side a little, and start a new pile, pulling the blocks off the old tower one at a time.

It was baffling, but almost meditatively relaxing. Zo'or wasn't even aware how much time had passed until the door irised open, and Gi'ra stepped in. Zo'or realised, with chagrin, that he had not asked the hybrid a single one of the questions he had intended to ask.

"I must take Liam for his medical examination," Gi'ra said, looking at Zo'or expectantly.

Zo'or felt a peculiar and unaccustomed sense of slight embarrassment. There was certainly a lack of dignity in sitting on the floor, playing with wooden bricks, but the hybrid had seemed to have been enjoying himself...

Zo'or stood quickly. "Of course."

Gi'ra crouched next to his charge. "Liam, would you like to go and see Mit'gai now?"

The child help up his arms and made a grasping motion with his hands in an unmistakeable 'up' request. Gi'ra indulgently picked up the young one, settling him on what, on a Human, would be the hip. The hybrid wrapped his arms around Gi'ra neck to hold himself in place, and Zo'or turned to leave.

"Liam. My name is Liam."

Surprise made Zo'or's step falter, and he turned in shock to stare at the child. Surely he could not have assimilated linguistics so quickly. Even Taelon infants, with aid accessing their genetic memories, took time to develop those skills.

Liam looked at him, and smiled, almost embarrassed, and buried his face in Gi'ra's neck.

**

According to Gi'ra's reports, Liam declined to speak to anyone other than Zo'or. Although Gi'ra, Da'an, and several of the medical staff had tried, Liam firmly refused to speak to them, sometimes ignoring them altogether.

"It is not necessarily a bad thing," Gi'ra was quick to inform Da'an and Zo'or, when they pressed for information. "In indulging Liam's desire for simple play, Zo'or may have shown himself to be accessible in a way that those of us who are caring for him in positions of scientific or cultural authority cannot."

Gi'ra had turned to a rather uncertain looking Zo'or, with great enthusiasm in his countenance. "I believe such a relationship should be encouraged."

"I agree," Da'an said. "Though I have spent time with the child, he remains unresponsive to me."

Zo'or glanced away, looking either irritated or uncertain. Frustratingly, Zo'or kept his feelings well hidden within the Commonality, so Da'an was forced to rely on what the shallow reflection of Zo'or on the physical plane could show him.

"It would make our work go much faster," Da'an said, pressing, "If you indulged him in his preferences."

"If it helps," Quo'on said, obligingly, "I can make it an order."

"That will be unnecessary," Zo'or said, and stopped the resentment from travelling into the Commonality with the ease of long practice.

**

Zo'or did not take kindly to the feeling that he was being pressured into spending time with the hybrid through Da'an and Gi'ra's interference. He was busy, he would protest, at every available opportunity. He had responsibilities as Companion to the United Nations, responsibilities that could not be abrogated, especially considering the general incompetence of Humans.

But he went anyway, knowing that it was important to aid in the management of the hybrid. The Kimera, whatever the Commonality's opinion of their motives, were a dangerous species. Since one of their Implants had killed Ha'gel, the hybrid was at risk of growing up with a hatred of the Taelons, and that could be very perilous indeed.

It was only the lack of emergence of the shaqarava that meant that Zo'or felt no frisson of fear in entering the hybrid's presence, but he never appeared to consider Zo'or a threat, regardless.

What confused Zo'or more than anything was how to deal with the hybrid. On one occasion, he was sitting in the crèche, watching the hybrid play with what he was told was an educational toy, when the child raised his head and said, "Will you tell me a new story?"

Zo'or had been left on his own with hybrid, Gi'ra withdrawing to monitor at a discrete distance, and so there was no one to consult on the appropriate answer. So instead, after struggling for a moment to response, he said, "What stories do you already know?" in an attempt to stall the hybrid.

The child's eyes moved to fixate on something in the far distance. "I know the tale of the small-tailed kar'desh and the story of the penitent mountain. I know the Worst Witch and Lord of the Rings. I know a lot of stories." He blinked, and refocused on Zo'or. "I want to hear a new story."

Zo'or, nonplussed, said, "Very well," and haltingly made up a story which was really just a recount of a diplomatic mission he had participated in years earlier, with some of the names changed, and was very poorly told, but Liam seemed entertained regardless.

He wasn't even aware at the point where he stopped calling him "the hybrid" and started thinking of him as "Liam".

**

"Good morning, Zo'or," Liam said, as the Taelon approached, and cautiously seated himself at the low table. "How are you today?"

The voice was that of a child, but the words could have been spoken by someone much older. It was almost eerie. Zo'or wondered exactly how well developed Liam's mind was, at this point in his development.

"I am... well, thank you, Liam."

Zo'or had taken to coming to the crèche without being specifically asked by Gi'ra or Da'an to do so, usually after the UN had finished its sessions for the day, and provided that he had no other pressing business to attend to. Liam accepted his presence, and while he rarely spoke, he was positively garrulous compared to his interactions with other Taelons. On this particular occasion, he decided to address that.

Liam was seated before a low table, covered in pieces of paper. He had been drawing on them with strip of coloured wax, and most of the pictures were remarkably true to life. Another sign that Liam was not the child he appeared to be. Zo'or had no idea what the image he was currently drawing was, but it seemed to fascinate Liam a great deal. Zo'or knelt beside the table, facing Liam, and watched him carefully for a few minutes before speaking.

"I'm told you won't speak with the others," Zo'or said, watching Liam as he slowly sorted through the assortment of sticks. "Do you not... like... them?"

"I like them fine," Liam said, frowning as he finally selected the right colour and began drawing lines on paper. "You're just different is all."

"Oh?" Zo'or fought down the urge to narrow his eyes at the infant. "Care to elaborate?"

"You're like me," Liam raised his eyes from the paper. "You're the last of your kind. And you feel alone, because the Commonality wants you to be that way." He abruptly scowled, staring at the wax stick. "You can't do shading right with these things."

Zo'or found himself in the unusual position of being lost for words.

"How do you know?" he finally asked, when he managed to regain some semblance of speech.

Liam shrugged. "I just know things," he said. "Like, I know I remind Gi'ra of his last child. He's always thinking about him when he's with me. And when the Commonality thinks of children, it thinks of you, and is sad."

Zo'or's fingers opened and closed, seemingly of their own volition. He turned his consciousness outwards, trying to sense Liam, sense where he was tapped into the Commonality to learn such things, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find the child anywhere. Either he was naturally talented, or Ha'gel had taken great pains to hide his child's mental signature from the Taelons.

If they hadn't found Agent Beckett, would they have known of Liam's birth?

"You're upset," Liam said, abruptly. He'd stopped drawing, and was staring at Zo'or. There wasn't fear in his eyes only... only...

Zo'or couldn't identify the emotion, and his natural reflex to reach out and try and discern feelings psychically came to nothing. He might as well have been faced with a mind-blind Human.

"No," Zo'or said, firmly, "Disconcerted. The Synod will not be pleased to know you can hear them."

"They would have found out anyway, somehow. Sooner or later." Liam's eyes went to his drawing and he continued with broad confident strokes of the crayon. "It's less painful just to say it now."

"You believe we would hurt you?"

"If it would help you," Liam said, faintly sullen, "Yeah. I remember."

He didn't use the word in English. He used the Eunoia word. Ar'bal'i. Recollection through spirit. Genetic memory. Zo'or attempted to frame a question, but Liam continued to speak.

"My father hated you all."

The words were spoken without any hint of uncertainty or concern, and Zo'or found himself pinned by the small one's level regard.

Liam shook his head, not looking up from his drawing. "He really did. The Taelons killed his entire species, and sent him into exile."

Zo'or rubbed his fingertips together. "Do you hate us?" he asked, quietly.

Liam seemed to think about that a moment. "I don't know," he said, sounding puzzled at his own words. He set down the crayon, and pushed the paper in Zo'or's direction. "But I know all about the Taelons," he said, quietly, "And I know all about you. And I know what's going to happen if something doesn't change."

Zo'or picked up the page, and looked down at it. It was a picture of the Earth, wreathed in flames, and the Mothership in orbit, dead and streaming atmosphere and fire in its wake. It was all drawn in excellant detail, considering the medium.

Zo'or's attention was torn away as Liam made a choked off crying sound, starting to double over, in pain. Before Zo'or could ask what was wrong, Liam started screaming, and the room filled with light.

**

Starlight was the illumination on the bridge, in the darkness that had been enforced as part of a day-night cycle imposed on the ship when it was learnt that the Human crew who inhabited the Taelon ship were becoming ill without it. Time was a relative concept in space, but it was the middle of the 'night' and the only noises were the thrumming of the ship's systems and engines, and the occasional whisper of cloth as someone moved around.

Da'an stood, not far from the command dais, where Quo'on was seated, apparently staring into nothingness, reviewing the datastream and making notations on log files. Mit'gai had sent an updated genetic profile a few hours earlier, and was exhaustive in its nature. Da'an was still working through the abstract.

He wondered what it implied that Taelons had taken to writing technical reports in the more linguistically unchanging English. Eunoia, being so emotive and so given to change, made it difficult to render the precision to beloved of science. No doubt Mit'gai appreciated the accuracy English allowed him in his delivery.

So deep was he into his study that he almost missed Quo'on beginning to speak.

"I admit that I was not expecting Zo'or to agree to spend so much time with the hybrid infant," Quo'on said, his eyes tracking about the bridge, which was devoid of Human crew at that moment. Still, cautious, he spoke in the Taelon language.

Da'an tilted his head thoughtfully, "I believe that Liam holds a certain fascination for Zo'or. After all, as the youngest of us, he has never been allowed to meet those younger than himself."

"The entirety of Humanity is younger than he is," Quo'on pointed out.

Amusement rippled Da'an's façade "That is not the same thing, and you know it."

"What I was expecting even less," Quo'on said, his almost idle tone of voice alerting Da'an, "Was that you would allow Zo'or to take a primary role in interacting with Liam. You have kept your visits to a minimum, usually with Gi'ra present, in a formalised setting."

Da'an turned, allowing the datastream to continue scrolling behind him. "It is... an experiment of my own," he said, tilting his head, "I wish to see how Zo'or reacts to this situation. Of our entire race, he has no first hand knowledge of the Kimera. His information is diluted by the distance of genetic recollection. Not only will this lack of prejudice help put Liam at ease, but I believe it will be educational for Zo'or as well."

"In experiencing caring for a child?" Quo'on asked, tilting his head. "Is that not cruel?"

"It would be cruel to deprive him of the opportunity," Da'an said, firmly, turning back to the datastream.

Quo'on might have continued to question Da'an, so determined he seemed to be to needle one of his more dangerous political opponents, but the chiming of the Mothership's internal alarm system interrupted them, and brought Quo'on to his feet.

"Energy surge," an engineer reported, wreathed in the drifting motes of a datastream. "El'thara level. Aft."

Da'an stiffened. Liam's crèche was located in that section. "Dispatched engineering and medical assistance," he ordered, brusquely, before Quo'on could speak, and began to stride from the bridge. After a moment, Quo'on followed, the pair of them making the journey to the crèche side by side and in silence.

They were not alone when they arrived. Gi'ra and Mit'gai were standing outside a sealed bioslurry bulkhead, along with an engineer who was ignoring them, looking unnerved and uncertain. They exchanged glances, and came to some unspoken agreement. Mit'gai was the one who spoke.

"It appears that the hybrid underwent a period of rapid growth."

"More rapid than was already the case," interrupted Gi'ra, before Mit'gai shot him a look and he fell silent.

"There was a sudden increase in high energy output," Mit'gai reported, "The doors sealed automatically and sounded the shipwide alert. The system is still in lockdown. And..." His voice faltered.

"And?" Da'an prompted, sharply.

"Zo'or is in there with Liam," Gi'ra said, gently, "We're unable to reach him through the communications system."

Da'an's mind instinctively cast out through the Commonality. Zo'or's presence was still there, still anchored on this plane of existence. He was alive, but the Commonality was no reliable indicator of an individual's state of health.

Te'em, senior maintenance engineer, was running a hand over the bioslurry wall, apparently trying to persuade the Mothership to release the lockout. Finally he turned. "We can override the lockout, but it will take time," he said, tilting his head, "Alternatively, we can breach the door, but it will require my summoning my Human crew."

Quo'on glanced at Da'an, glaring. Clearly, he had taken the stance that if Da'an and Zo'or were going to so clearly usurp authority from him in the Synod, they had to take responsibility for all the decisions themselves.

Fortunately, Da'an had no real problem with that situation. "Summon the crew, but ensure that they are trustworthy."

Te'em inclined his upper body slightly, and went to call the necessary personnel.

Quo'on stepped closer to Da'an. "Do you believe this deliberate on the hybrids part?" He mused, "Or simply that something has gone wrong?"

Da'an refused to rise to the questioning. "I do not make it a habit to speculate while not in possession of relevant information," he said, and turned his attention to the rapid response crew, who had appeared, half-running down the hallway, carrying some heavy duty laser cutting equipment between them. It was one advantage of the Human crew. They moved far faster than Taelons were physically capable of. Da'an couldn't help but appreciate that speed at that moment.

Te'em spoke in clear, unaccented English. Unlike the diplomatic caste, rarely did those of other callings see the need to affect regional inflections in their use of the language. "The system has engaged in medical lockdown, and this door must be opened in order to let those sealed inside be released. Take full caution and, additionally, discuss this with no one."

Te'em's eyes swept the team, who all looked distinctly curious, but nodded anyway. They moved quickly and efficiently, with the minimum of the chatter that Da'an associated with Humans. These ones had been on the Mothership the longest, trained to be quiet and subservient to Taelon demands. They wielded their equipment with surety, and it was a matter of moments before they had set their equipment in place and were backing away to activate it from a safe distance.

The bioslurry bowed, warping, then abruptly solidified and fractured, exploding inwards to the room, the cutters automatically turning themselves off as it did so.

Vaporising bioslurry filled the air in a dense cloud, Da'an assumed the correct description for it was 'choking' as several of the Volunteers immediately started coughing, an involuntary action to clear the lungs. He glanced significantly at Te'em, who nodded and quickly turned to the Human engineers.

"You are dismissed," he said, sharply, glowering.

Da'an paid no attention to the crew scrambling to obey the stern Te'em's instructions, instead picking his way across the debris-strewn deck, ducking under the remnants of the doorway, and trying vainly to see through the cloud of blue dust.

"Zo'or?" he called.

And then the dust started to settle, and Zo'or could be seen, arm raised to shield himself from the vaporised bioslurry. From his posture, he looked like he'd half-turned when the door had blown open, to see what was happening. There was a faint look of confusion about him, but he seemed otherwise uninjured.

As the air cleared, Zo'or straightened. "Was that necessary?" he said, sharply.

Da'an didn't answer, his attention seized by the Human who was standing, adult, naked, and grinning, just behind the other Taelon. "Zo'or, who-"

Zo'or turned his head to glance at the man, then turned back, tilting his head. "You've already met," he said, with a slightly malicious tone to his voice, a smugness of having knowledge Da'an did not, "This is Liam."

**

Author's Note: I rediscovered this story, in an incomplete form, on my harddrive recently (and wow, my writing style has changed a lot). I decided to finish it and post it. It was originally intended to be the first half of a much longer fic, but as I started to go through it, I realised that this was a complete (if short) story in and of itself. I have plans, if the muse is kind, to have this be the first in a series of EFC AU fics, which have the current title of the 'Runic' series. The series is long dead, but I still hold a place of affection for it in my heart. These are stories I'd love to write, so fingers crossed I'll actually get them done. For now, though, this can stand alone. Hope you enjoyed it!