Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #212

by TTA Press Authors

  Bej snorted and trotted off into the darkness. Hari laughed softly, as though amused by something, possibly his own reaction to Bej Saihan. The thought did little to comfort Yan. He finished chewing the meat paste and took a swallow from his water bottle. “Hari, why does Che dislike me?"

  Hari shook his head. “She doesn't. She's just ... cautious."

  "Well, it's clear she likes you."

  "We get along.” A slight pause, then, “Are things going well with you so far?"

  Yan kept his voice as neutral as Hari's. “Better than before."

  Better now that he and Meh were several thousand kilometers apart. The thought of Meh immediately brought Hari's assistant to mind. In truth Che looked nothing like Meh. She was much taller and skinnier, and her lips thin dark lines, where Meh's mouth curved full against her honey-brown skin. Nevertheless she and Meh both had the same quick frown, the same wary expression. It was uncanny.

  He shrugged away the thought. “So what tests are you running tomorrow, Doctor Dun?"

  "Dull stuff,” Hari said dryly. “We're running several standard analysis sequences with our equipment to check the calibration. Ah, but then things get interesting. I was thinking, and Kun agrees with me, that we should do a thorough breakdown of the various trees. It would be lovely if we came across another biological treasure like the ones Anwar Enterprises discovered. What about you?"

  "Water samples first,” Yan said. “Then soil samples, etc. But what really interests me are the tests Au wants to run to check for antiviral compounds..."

  The conversation swung back and forth, much like their path as it skirted the tidal edge. As the sun sank behind the horizon, the breeze shifted, blowing in from the opens seas. Yan felt the day's accumulated sweat evaporate, and he breathed more easily.

  * * * *

  The Tau'ini Po'a Islands. Nicknamed A Thousand Pearls. Located 19 degrees 52s, 137 degrees 56w. Includes hundreds of islands ranging from tiny footprints to sizeable land masses stretching thirty or forty kilometers in length. Even the smallest shelter pockets of sea grass, while the largest ones support dense forests of shrubs and low trees.

  Unlike the remote Hana-mana islands, where recent scientific expeditions uncovered the rare tikaki human subspecies, there are no known settlements in the Tau'ini Po'a Islands. Numerous stony reefs ring the island chain, and a peculiar twist in the Kailuang Current makes any approach difficult. Native tribes populate the island chains 150 kilometers to the north, but none have settled upon this world within a world.

  Over the next month, Yan settled into a routine. Throughout the morning, he and Lian Luo worked in the laboratory, running tests on their samples. In the afternoon, they wrote up their results and attended meetings with the other team members to discuss the next day's experiments. Evenings he spent in Hari's company or alone, reading. Che remained aloof from him, but he gradually formed tentative friendships with other team members. Once or twice, Lian joined him for lunch. Six months of paradise, he thought more than once. Perhaps Hari was right.

  The first morning of the second month, the rhythm broke.

  "Yan, come see,” Lian Luo said, poking her head into the laboratory tent. “Something new."

  She vanished before Yan could ask anything. He hurried after, but immediately found himself engulfed in a stream of scientists and technicians and support crew. From a distance, he heard Kun Mar bawling out orders for people to keep back, dammit. Yan ducked into the forest and circled around until he came to the front of the crowd.

  Kun Mar stood in the clearing next to Bej Saihan. Bej gripped the leg of a small, skinny monkey, which cowered between them.

  Not a monkey. A child.

  A child that was all bones and brown skin, its legs mottled with scars, its face hidden behind a snarled mass of thick black hair. Young. Maybe eight or nine, though it was hard to tell. He could just make out its eyes and mouth, stretched wide in terror. It was filthy.

  "What's going on?” Hari whispered, coming up behind Yan.

  "I don't know,” Yan whispered back.

  The child cried out and launched itself away from Bej. Bej swiftly captured the child's other arm and subdued his captive. Again, the child made a grunting, howling sound.

  "It can't talk,” Che said softly. She had appeared from nowhere, and now stood next to Hari. Yan glanced down and saw their fingertips brush each other. Ah. When had that begun?

  "Back to work,” Mar said brusquely. “Come on, people. Five months isn't forever. We are on a schedule."

  The remainder of that day was not a productive one. Distracted, Yan had to run several tests twice over, and from Lian's grumbling, she had the same difficulties. Finally, by mid-day, Yan gave up and sought out Hari.

  He found Che and Hari in the otherwise deserted biochemistry labs, talking in low undertones.

  "I sent them away,” Hari said, obviously weary. “No use working today."

  He meant the child, of course.

  "Where did Bej find it?” Yan asked.

  Che glanced at Hari, who sighed and told Yan what he knew. Bej Saihan and his trackers decided to make a sweep of the island's northern tip, trying to flush out any small reptiles. The trackers had just crossed over the stony ridge that divided the island, when Bej heard a noise.

  "He thought it might be a snake,” Hari said, “hiding in a patch of brush near the ridge. But then the child burst from its cover. Old Bej thought he'd flushed a monkey until he caught it. Fast little thing."

  "It fell,” Che said abruptly. “It stumbled over a root, or slipped on the loose rocks. Whatever. It sprained its ankle. Now Kun is trying to decide what to do with it."

  "But what about its parents?” Yan said. “Surely—"

  "Dead,” Hari said softly. “Bej found their bones."

  In spite of the heat, Yan's skin prickled with a sudden chill. He had read about such practices among the native island tribes, who sometimes abandoned a criminal on desolate islands. Often, the children of those criminals were exiled along with their parents.

  "The gods only know how the child stayed alive,” Hari went on. “There's plenty to eat, of course. Shellfish. Roots. Those chewy tubers in the marsh—"

  "They cut out its tongue,” Che said. “They mutilated a child and left it here to die. And you both talk about the poor thing as though it were a specimen."

  She pushed back her chair and stalked from the tent.

  Yan made an abortive move to follow. He glanced back at Hari, who signaled for him to stay put. “Let her go. She's upset. More than I would have thought.” He blew out a breath. “So am I, come to think of it. So am I."

  So were many others in the expedition, though the tension revealed itself in odd ways. Hari and Che quarreled about procedures. Doctor Mar and Doctor Au broke off their late night card games. Lian made excuses when Yan asked about lunch, and several technicians requested changes in sleeping quarters. The fresh-cooked food tasted off, as though spoiled by heat and the cook's inattention.

  After a second rebuff from Lian, Yan kept to himself. Once or twice he glimpsed Che in passing. Each time, her gaze flicked away from his, then a cool remote expression settled over her thin face. But she said nothing to him, only hurried on her way.

  The third time their paths crossed, twilight was darkening toward night. The twin moons floated above the dark blue ocean, leeching all the color from the emerald green sands. A warm close evening, when the salt tang overpowered the scent of crushed leaves.

  Che stopped and changed directions. Yan hurried forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. He felt her shudder through her thin shirt.

  "What do you want?” she said.

  "To say I'm sorry."

  She shifted her gaze to his hand, which had not left her shoulder. “For what?"

  Yan licked his lips. “For speaking the way I did about the child Bej found."

  No answer. Just that cool remote expression. As though he himself were a vial of chemicals to analyze. Then, “I knew Meh."r />
  That startled him. “You did? Then you know—"

  Her lips thinned. “I know how you bullied her. Oh, you did nothing wrong. Nothing outright. But I know your type. You better watch yourself, Doctor Dei. Even if Doctor Hari Dun is your friend."

  With a suddenness that took him by surprise, Che knocked away Yan's hand and pushed him aside. Yan fell against a tree trunk. It took him only a moment to recover his footing, but Che was already far beyond him, hurrying, almost running, toward the camp's brightly-lit center.

  Just like Meh, running to a waiting taxi.

  "Dammit!"

  Yan smacked the tree trunk with his open palm. Damn Meh. Damn Che. What did she mean, Watch yourself? As if he had ever stopped watching every word and gesture he made. Damn the damnable stupid heat that pushed and pushed against his patience. Tenure or not, he could not last another five months in this swamp.

  He slumped against the tree trunk, breathing hard. His hand throbbed. The palm stung fiercely, scraped raw by the tree trunk. He brushed away the dirt and bits of bark from his hand. It bled slightly, but it would keep until he could talk calmly with the camp physician.

  Walk it out, he told himself. That always works.

  He circled the camp and headed toward the beach, only to hear the sounds of laughter and cheers. Evidently, a group of the younger technicians had made a bonfire. A few were singing off-key, and Yan caught a whiff of roasted meat and wood-smoke.

  With a muttered curse, he veered onto another path that led along the eastern edge of camp. Here the tents and wooden shelters were deserted, lit only by a few cool-lamp bulbs. He flicked on his pocket lantern. The soft trill of insects made a blanket of soothing noise, punctuated by the high-pitched chirp of the small frogs in the marshes.

  And a soft persistent whimpering.

  He paused and located the source of that whimpering—it came from one of the supply tents.

  The child.

  He had not seen it since that first day. After protracted arguments between Kun Mar and Bej Saihan, Mar had at last agreed to arrange for its care. “We've no damned anthropologists,” he'd muttered, according to Hari. “And no damned nannies."

  But that was enough for Saihan, who had cleared one of the supply tents for the child's sleeping quarters. Away from the main laboratory tents, close enough for casual supervision.

  Yan hesitated. He retraced his steps and ducked inside the supply tent, letting the flap close behind him. A sudden scrambling broke out to his left, then he heard a garbled cry. Yan lifted his lamp and shone the light over the interior.

  The tent was a mess. Dirty bowls were scattered about. Three or four gray-green blankets made a nest in one corner. The whole thing smelled of sweat and filth. Then his light caught the child, who had squeezed behind a few cardboard boxes in one corner.

  A girl, he thought. A little girl. He had not noticed before.

  She was naked, but clean. Much cleaner than that first day, when Bej brought her into camp. Scars and bites covered her legs, her feet and hands were rough with calluses, but her eyes were like brilliant black stars. Thick glossy hair spilled over her face.

  Yan crouched down. “Hello. Bej left you all alone?"

  No answer. No sign she had even heard him.

  "What's the matter? Are you deaf, too?"

  Odd that they left no one to supervise the child. But then, Mar didn't want distractions, and Bej had his own duties. She was a pretty thing, Yan thought, now that they had washed her. He reached out to brush the hair away from her cheek. To his dismay, the girl flinched away from his touch.

  "Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you—"

  The girl launched herself away from him, but collapsed with a hoarse cry, clutching at the thick cast around her ankle. No wonder she had not run off. Yan took hold of her arm to help her up. With a quick twist of her head, the girl bit Yan's hand. Yan gave a muffled shout and smacked her hard across the face. Again that grating cry. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Stop making so much noise."

  The little beast was weeping and snarling. Someone would surely hear. There would be questions. Yan could explain, but no one would listen. They never did. He grabbed for the girl's arm and managed to capture one wrist, then the other. Now he had her on her back, his hand over her mouth. All the while he was muttering, “Quiet. Quiet. Quiet."

  Without warning, the girl went limp. Yan stared down at her, his chest rising in time with hers falling. His heart beating against hers. Her eyes wide and dark with terror.

  Yan pushed away from the girl. “No,” he whispered. “No."

  He stumbled back to his tent, still shaking, and crawled into his cot. No one had seen. No one. Please dear gods. He had done nothing. Nothing wrong. He needed this job. Needed this second chance...

  That night, he dreamed of midnight skies above still black seas.

  * * * *

  The next morning, he woke groggy and underslept. Dreams didn't matter, he told himself. He drank down a pot of strong tea and set to work examining a series of microbe cultures that Lian had prepared for him. When Hari dropped by for lunch, Yan waved him away. “I think I'm onto something."

  "I hope so,” Hari said cryptically.

  Yan barely heard him leave. He worked through the noon hour, quitting only when the heat became unbearable. He switched off the equipment and stared through the tent's fabric at the glaring sunlight outside. I lied, he thought. I'm not onto something. No one here is.

  Progress reports from the other two research sites had arrived that morning. In spite of his absorption in his own work, Yan had heard mutterings from the other members on his team. Valuable data, said all the reports. But so far, no practical applications.

  Yan rubbed the sweat from his face. Lian. Che. Hari. Mar. They had all foolishly hoped for the same success as Anwar Enterprises's first expedition that had discovered the miraculous tikaki people and their regenerative blood. It was hope that made their disappointments even harder to bear.

  He retreated to his tent and stayed there for the whole afternoon, his shirt off, with an electric fan blowing directly on his face, as he reviewed the printout of his latest tests. Odd and peculiar microbes inhabited XTI-19S137W-1A's soil and water. He might—could—make the case that microbes here represented a separate evolutionary chain, itself a valuable discovery for the scientific world, but so far, it was all speculation. He had uncovered nothing that could turn a profit for XianGen Pharmaceuticals or its government friends. And that meant no second chance for Yan Dei.

  The rest of the day vanished into a haze of frustration. That night he dreamed that enormous creatures hunted him through XTI-19S137W-1A's scrubby forests. One in particular, a massive beast with blunt, yellow fangs, chased him along the island's stony spine. Yan kept glancing back—he could not help himself—only to see the beast gaining on him. His foot came down on a loose rock. He slipped with a garbled cry...

  ...and woke covered in stinking sweat.

  Yan wiped his hands over his eyes. Impossible to catch his breath in this thick air. Impossible to sleep. He got up from his cot and pulled on a pair of loose trousers. A swig of water cleared the sour taste from his mouth. He splashed more water over his face and rubbed himself all over with a wet cloth. Hot. The air as thick as mud. His heart beat erratically, as though he had run for his life.

  A walk. He needed a walk.

  Yan picked up his pocket lamp, shoved his feet into his shoes, and headed out of the tent. Just a walk, he told himself. He'd go upstream and sit on the rocks. Listen to the water rill past until he got sleepy again.

  His path took him past the supply compound. All was dark and silent around the tent where they housed the girl. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand between the thumb and palm, where the girl had bitten him. Stupid girl. Hardly any difference between her and Meh, come to think of it. Both squalled if you looked at them the wrong way.

  Yan paused, breathing heavily.

  Don't do it. Don't think about it. Don't—

&n
bsp; He lifted the flap and ducked inside. The girl did not stir. Only when his hand covered her mouth did she start awake. There was a brief struggle, but Yan was stronger and bigger. “Quiet, quiet, quiet,” he murmured, though he knew she could not understand. “Be good. Be quiet."

  She went limp, and did not move as Yan unbuckled his trousers. No response as he insinuated his tongue into that emptiness that was her mouth. Only when he pushed her legs apart and forced himself inside did she fight back. The stump of flesh, all that was left of her tongue, worked against his, as though she were trying to speak.

  That night Yan dreamed of the scent of crushed leaves. The rich ripe sweat on his body. His mouth on hers. Her eyes, her wide dark eyes, just a few inches from his.

  * * * *

  "They've named her Ah-ne,” Hari mentioned a few days later.

  He and Yan sat together on the beach, eating their mid-day meal. Yan could see the remains of the bonfire—burnt logs, discarded cups, and the blackened empty shell from an enormous sea turtle. A few clouds smudged the southern horizon, suggesting that they might have rain showers later.

  "Why Ah-ne?” Yan asked.

  "From the sounds she makes. It's strange. She was a wild little creature when they caught her—and I can't blame the poor child—but now she's as quiet and calm as anyone would like. Just makes that grunting sound when someone comes into the tent. Ah-ne. Like that."

  Yan nodded, only half listening. He raked his hair back from his face. His skin felt sticky, even though he had just bathed, and there was a heavy cloying scent on his skin that reminded him of Ah-ne.

  He had avoided the supply tent and the girl these past few days, and immersed himself in work. It was work he needed. Work to block unhappy thoughts about Meh or Lian or Che. Work to numb the temptation. To his relief, the dreams had gradually faded. That same morning, Doctor Au had spoken with Yan privately. He was impressed with Yan's meticulous attention to detail. He was especially pleased with Yan's dedication in the face of growing rumors about the expedition.