Free gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception by Christine Pope Page A

blinking, she stared at Blake across the polished plastic surface of the table and asked, “Wasn’t that sort of the whole point?”
    To her surprise, he grinned. “I suppose so. It’s just one thing to hear about it in the abstract, and quite another for it to be facing you in reality.” He stopped then and peered into her face, so rudely that if it had been anyone else, she would have been tempted to give him the middle finger. That sort of behavior wouldn’t fly here, however. Gabriel might not be physically in the room, but you could be damn sure he was watching through a hidden surveillance system.
    “And I’m the ‘it’?” she inquired icily.
    “Maybe.” He continued his inspection of her features, then said, “It’s just weird because it looks like you under all that. It’s almost like it would be easier to process if you looked completely like someone else.”
    “Well, I don’t. This is how it all worked. So are we going to get on with this?”
    Since Blake, as Gabriel Brant had pointed out, didn’t have much of a filter, he also didn’t take offense at the same things that would irritate a regular person. “Sure. It’s not that hard, really. You already have some mechanisms in place to keep other people out, so now it’s more a matter of redirecting those mechanisms so you can keep your own emotions and reactions hidden from others.”
    She nodded. Put that way, it didn’t seem too complicated. Of course, things that sounded simple in theory were often difficult when actually put into practice.
    “Okay, then.” He reached out and pinched her arm, hard. Since her flesh was still tender from the procedure that had turned her into a Zhore, it hurt far more than it normally would, and she gasped.
    “What the hell?”
    “Hurts, right? And I can feel you broadcasting that pain right at me. So tamp it down before the whole world knows about it.”
    Bastard. She’d never punched anyone in the face, but in that moment she understood why someone would. Gritting her teeth, Trinity blinked back the throbbing ache in her arm, doing her best to shove it behind the same wall she used to keep other people’s thoughts from invading her every waking moment.
    “Not bad,” Blake allowed. “But I can still feel some of it.”
    All right, so those walls needed to be a little higher. Even though they existed only in her mind, she made a conscious effort to visualize them, twenty meters, no, fifty meters tall, smooth gray duracrete, impregnable to anything short of a pulse cannon attack. Behind that wall, her emotions could rage all they wanted, but they weren’t getting past that barrier.
    Blake was silent then, brows knitted together. Trinity realized that he was trying to probe the wall she’d built, looking for any sign of weakness. He wouldn’t find one, though. She’d spent the last twelve years making sure nothing could get into it from the outside. It circled the hemisphere of her mind, a fortress that should be able to keep out anyone or anything…even Blake Chu.
    “Pretty good,” he said at last, settling against the back of his chair with a faint sigh. He reached for the pouch of energy drink he’d brought with him and took a long swallow.
    Of course no one had thought to give her an energy drink. Not that she really wanted one; she’d always thought they were pretty nasty. But a nice glass of ice water would do well right about now.
    She wouldn’t ask for one, though. That would be a sign of weakness. She was pretty sure Gabriel and Blake had conspired to make sure she’d be thirsty during this meeting, and therefore not at the top of her game.
    Bring it on, boys, she thought, secure in the knowledge that Blake couldn’t possibly get through her defenses. I can suffer for a half-hour or so. It’s not going to kill me.
    “Thanks,” she replied, her tone tight. “Anything else?”
    He didn’t reply at first, but only sat there and stared at her through those rimless glasses he wore.