After all. Others knew. Others were taking action. She wasn’t waiting to hear what was happening—she was in the midst of it all.
Okay, maybe that last wasn’t such a great thing. Mac looked down at Emily. Even drugged unconscious, a state Anchen recommended for now, her face wasn’t relaxed. Muscles spasmed in seemingly random order. Her arms shifted as much as the cover allowed. Mac hadn’t guessed the bed could be adjusted into a restraint. It put a new light on climbing into her own later.
If there was a later.
She watched the lift they’d slung from the other side bring down its next load. The Vessel watched as well. He’d stayed as close to her as possible but didn’t seem upset.
Which made sense. They were proposing to warn the Dhryn, not harm them.
A tactic that didn’t satisfy everyone. Mac narrowed her eyes. The Imrya had spent most of her time with Cinder in the last half an hour, a conversation whose topic she could guess well enough.
“Let it go, Mac,” easy and quiet.
She glowered at Nik. “Have you talked to her yet?”
His laugh wasn’t amused. “In all this? We’ll sit down over some beers when things calm down. Cinder and I—we’ve enough history to get past a difference of opinion.”
“So you don’t think the Dhryn should be exterminated as soon as possible?”
The Vessel’s only protest was a faint distressed sound.
“Gods, Mac,” Nik shook his head at her. “Do you know any direction besides straight ahead?”
She was unrepentant. “Not when I know where I’m going. Nik—we need to—”
One came up to them. “We’re ready to test the simulation, Mr. Trojanowski, Dr. Connor.” A polite pause as he sorted out protocol. “Honorable Vessel.”
“Go ahead.”
The lights dimmed to request silence. The techs inhabiting the jumble of equipment now along the far wall gave a signal. Instantly, the walls and floor began to shake. Objects not secured fell and rolled.
While the Dhryn stood and ran as hard as he could in the opposite direction.
As that was the direction of the descending lift, the massive alien managed to knock most of the gear from it to the floor, sending himself rebounding to lie on his back.
Someone thought of shutting off the simulation.
“Well,” said Mac brightly as the Dhryn picked himself up, apparently no worse for wear, “that worked.”
Anchen touched fingertip to fingertip. “I had hoped we would be negotiating with the Dhryn, not shouting at them to run. You remain sure this is the only option?”
Nik shrugged. “Right now? Yes, Sinzi-ra. Given the time and situation, there’s no choice.”
Genny P’tool spoke up: “It will be a test. If it works, if the Dhryn are repelled, then we can provide this to other members of the IU.”
“Even if it works,” Mac cautioned, “it may only work once. The Dhryn are obeying instinct, but they obviously haven’t lost their ability to function as intelligent beings. They can operate ships—navigate transects to find a specific target. They are making decisions. They’ll soon realize they should ignore alarms that come from outside their ships.”
“They don’t learn to ignore the Ro’s call.”
“We can’t know that,” Mac insisted. “Some might be trying to. This Progenitor did—” a gesture to the Vessel. “And there’s another difference. Organisms will seek food even if sometimes the clues are wrong. It’s too essential a need. But they can’t keep reacting to false alarms. It’s better to risk ignoring a valid alarm, than to starve hiding from false ones.”
“That which is Dhryn mustn’t starve.” The Vessel’s comment, low and implacable, sent a shiver down Mac’s spine.
Hollans turned pale as well. To his credit, his voice stayed calm. “Understood, Dr. Connor. But if it might save even one more world, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
Anchen’s fingertips snapped past one another. “We will not test the patience of the Dhryn. Send the alarm.”
- Encounter -
THE PROGENITOR’S warning is felt by all that is Dhryn. The Great Ships turn to flee.
The Progenitors must endure.
Conflict . . . confusion . . .
The Progenitors on each ship call for Vessels.
No time for consultation. In this, the will of all comes first. The Call has been silenced.
The cry is paramount.
All that is Dhryn must move.
“Say again.”
“The Dhryn ships have come about, sir. Projected course—the gate to the Naralax Transect! They’re running!”
In the midst of cheers and whistles from her bridge crew, Lemnitov heard an astonished: “From us?”
She gave her Weapons officer a sideways grin. “Don’t think we’re scary?”
“Do you?”
“There have been days . . .” Seeing the scan tech trying to get her attention, the captain raised her voice. “Quiet down, people. We can celebrate at the next way station. What is it?”
“You need to see this, sir.”
“Main display.”
The center space of the bridge filled with the images of ships. Dying.
That which was Dhryn had lost the call.
That which was Dhryn has turned to flee.
~~FAILURE~~
It is not the Way to risk the Progenitors.
~~WITHDRAW~~
Holes appear down every seam of the Great Ships; their silver sides, like so many petals, fall open to vacuum. Gouts of air vent and freeze, icy splinters coat the figures that tumble into space.
Within, the Progenitors die even as they try to shield their newborn with their vast hands, oomlings floating free in every direction as gravity fails with all else.
As the last heartbeat sounds in silence, that which was Dhryn tumbles toward the Naralax Transect.
Nothing more than debris.
- 22 -
AGONY AND AFTERMATH
EMILY SCREAMED, a drawn-out shriek that choked on moisture. Mac hurled herself to her side, hearing other cries but understanding only this one.
“Emily!” Mac tried to free her from the blanketlike restraint, but the jelly-bed held firm. Emily’s body spasmed in another scream, muted to a gurgle by the blood still pouring from her mouth.
“I need help here!” Mac shouted.
She was pulled aside, others pushed past. She didn’t resist, trying only to see what was happening.
But when she could see, Mac screamed herself and turned away.
Someone held her.
No one could erase what burned behind her closed eyes, the bloody ruin of arms and legs, the wet gaping abdomen.
The Ro had taken back what they’d put in place of Emily’s flesh.
Returning nothing.
“Dead.” “It’s confirmed. Dead.” “Dead.” Like a contagion, the word sped through the room. Mac choked back her tears, pushed away to free herself, heard clearly what at first made no sense: “All of them, you’re sure?” “Yes, all dead.”
All of them? All of who?
“AIEEEEEEEEEEEE! LAMISAH!”
Half blind, Mac fought to reach the new scream, struggling to get past what seemed an army intended to hold her in place as gently as possible. She flailed out, got ready to kick.
“Mac. Mac. They’re helping Emily. Hang on. This way.”
Nik. With the voice, movement in the right direction. No more screaming, although disquieting mutters of “dead” kept circulating around her, part of confused fragments of conversation.
Others were caring for Emily. Only she could help the Dhryn.
Emily.
Inside the Dhryn cell was peace of a sort. The area outside was crammed with people, the outer door opening and closing with a steady growl of permissions asked and given. Overhead, more noise, a heady buzz from the other side. Cheering?
Mac focused on the Vessel, a huddle of patent misery in the middle of the floor. Had he even stood again
after running into the lift? She couldn’t remember. Nik, faster than she, was already at his side. “We didn’t do it,” he was saying, confusingly if urgently. To her: “The Dhryn ships. They self-destructed. All of them. After they’d powered up on a heading to leave the system.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked numbly.
“They didn’t,” Nik said between his teeth. “Their ships must have been rigged. Some kind of triggering pulse was sent from inside the consulate. We’d never have caught it, but we were set up to listen for a reply to the Ro signal. We’re tracking the source.” She’d never seen such naked rage on a face before. “It—Emily was affected at the same time.”
The Ro.
Too cold for anger, Mac bent over the Dhryn, touched him gently. “Vessel. Lamisah. Do you understand now? The Ro are the enemy. They tried to use these Dhryn against us; when that failed, they destroyed them. We have to work together; find a way to stop the Ro before more die.”
Low, in Dhryn, muffled by an arm. “I must go back.”
Mac kept talking in Instella for Nik’s sake. “What do you mean, ‘you must go back’? Back where? Why?”
The arm shifted to reveal one golden eye. The Dhryn made the effort to reply in kind. “I was sent here to talk to you, Mackenzie Winifred Elizabeth Wright Connor Sol. To learn the truth. I have, to my unending sorrow, done so. Now, I must return to my Progenitor and tell her.”
Mac sat back, giving Nik a startled look. “We can’t—” she began cautiously. He put a finger to his lips, then leaned close to the Dhryn’s ear.
“I’ll make sure you get there, Lamisah,” she heard him whisper. “But please, don’t speak of this to others until we’ve made the necessary arrangements.”
As he spoke, Nik looked straight at her.
Oh, she knew that expression.
Full-scale plotting.
And no one had better get in his way.
“She’s alive. I admit to being surprised. I had thought her body would give up the first night.”
Mac pressed her lips together and stared out at the ocean. The Sinzi-ra had come in person to report on Emily’s condition. She was grateful for that.
Once the Dhryn were gone, the consulate had morphed back to its normal state, giving them all back their beds and belongings, restoring access to the research rooms. She was grateful for that, too.
She wasn’t grateful to have been sent to her bed the moment it was available. Not, Mac admitted, that she’d been good for much by that time. Fastfix made you pay. She had vague memories of a quiet, comfortable corner, some floor of her own, annoying people who claimed she was in the way and made her get up.
Mac shook herself. “Emily’s always been strong,” she said. “Thank you for your care of her. Strong or not, I’m not sure she would have survived what the—what the Ro did to her without Noad.”
An elegant sweep of fingers to head, the meaning unmistakable. “It remains to be seen how much of her has survived, Mac. You should be prepared.”
How could she do that? Mac asked herself. Aloud: “What else do I get to know, Anchen?”
“Whatever you wish. You have more than earned my confidence, Mac.”
“Is the IU going to release the Vessel? Let him return to his Progenitor?”
They were sitting on the terrace. The storm front had passed, leaving a clear sky. The breeze lifting from the ocean played with Mac’s hair and set the beads by the door in motion. It wasn’t enough to move the Sinzi’s fingers, yet she pretended it did, waving their tips before her great eyes like silver-coated reeds swaying in the wind.
Delay, Mac judged it. Why? She decided on patience, and was rewarded a moment later.
Anchen put down her fingers with what seemed reluctance. “Mac. The destruction of the Dhryn ships. How do you judge this act?”
“Murder. The slaughter of innocents.”
“Innocents who may have been responsible for the deaths of billions. For the eradication of entire biospheres.”
“I’ve seen eagles gather by the hundreds to feast on salmon as they spawn. If I could ask the salmon’s opinion on that slaughter, I’m sure it would differ from the eagles’. I have none.”
“So you see the Dhryn as part of nature.”
Mac’s lips twisted. “I see them as a perversion of nature. A perversion created and manipulated by the Ro. Who are, in my opinion, guilty of murder on all counts.”
“To those who do not think as you—or I, Mac—the Ro’s destruction of the Dhryn ships was an act of salvation.”
Mac frowned. “How can that be? The evidence—”
“Is not definitive. Not yet. Not to all. Human ships are collecting debris, hunting clues. Meanwhile, you must continue your work, Mac.” A lift of those tall shoulders. “But, as you do, be aware of this ambivalence among us.
There will remain division, factions to be pacified and contained.”
Too much to hope it would be simple, Mac told herself. That all would see the same threat, interpret the same actions as she did. She thought of how hard it was for her and Mudge to agree—and they started from the same information and had similar goals.
“For how long?”
“Until we know the Myrokynay’s intentions beyond doubt.”
“If they win,” Mac grumbled, “we’ll know, won’t we?”
Anchen formed her triangular mouth into a smile. “Let us hope to gain this knowledge first. We must establish communications with both the Dhryn and the Ro, Mac. Since the Ro have proved—uninterested—in civil discourse, I will send our Dhryn back to his Progenitor, trusting to form a useful connection.”
Mac’s eyes sought the horizon again. Late afternoon. Some scudding cloud. That ridiculous blue sky hanging over a sea sparked with light. A sea with life spared for another day.
Good-bye.
“I’ll go with him,” she said.
A cool sharpness, light as the tip of a feather, stroked the back of her hand. For an instant, Mac couldn’t remember if it was her real one or not. She looked at the Sinzi-ra. “I mean it.”
“And I am grateful for your courage. But you cannot, Mac.” Anchen stroked her hand once more. “We need you here, to continue leading your team. Even if they could manage without you,” she said, anticipating Mac’s protest before she did more than draw breath to make it, “Emily cannot. What hope she has to recover may depend in part on the presence of a—good—friend. I have a third reason—do you wish to hear it?”
Mac scowled but nodded.
“The Ro followed you once before, using the tracer signature within your body. It’s true they had Emily’s help and her device—also that they knew your destination and could stay close. But do you wish to take the chance that they could repeat this feat and, through you, find the Vessel?”
“The Ministry might have a way of masking it—changing it.”
“Which brings me to my last reason, Mac. Although you accepted temporary citizenship within the IU in order to be part of the Gathering, your kind has claimed you back from us. The Ministry of Extra-Sol Human Affairs is unwilling to risk both of its experts on the Dhryn in such a venture. I find I concur.”
“Both?” Mac nodded slowly. Of course. She’d heard Nik say it. It just hadn’t registered. “Nik’s going.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Anchen gestured westward, sunlight glinting from her silver rings. “Today. I am sorry you did not have a chance to say good-bye in person, Mac, but the launch must be secret. We sought no agreement for this mission. We fear an act against the Vessel—followers on their trail. You can send a note to me. I will make sure Nik receives it.”
A note, Mac repeated to herself, feeling as though the terrace had tilted toward the sharp rocks below.
And she’d wasted the last twenty-four hours asleep.
The knock at her door shortly after Anchen departed didn’t surprise Mac. Who was knocking did.
“Come in, Mr. Hollans,” she said, quite sure
she was doing a lousy job of hiding her disappointment.
“Dr. Connor. If I might speak with you?”
If he made it quick. “Sure.” He walked through the arch to the sitting room.
So much for quick.
They took seats in opposing jelly-chairs. The fish tank table—every one, Mac had been told—had been replaced by a solid slab of local stone, polished and gray. She tucked her feet under the Sinzi gown. He was, predictably, in the brown suit. There were dark circles under his eyes, lines of strain around his mouth.
“Dr. Connor—”
“Mac.”
He almost smiled. “Mac. I came to apologize.”
“I’ve a temper,” she admitted with a shrug. “Besides, you were right. Dhryn were killing Humans. I needed to know.” Mac paused uncertainly. “Did you have family—at the refinery?”
He shook his head, then gave a strange laugh. “Yes. In a way.”
“In a way?”
“My job—when I’m not working with Anchen—is to watch out for the ones who leave home. I don’t know many of them as individuals; I don’t need to. Those who go to space are different. They’re travelers, restless, eager for something new and bigger. The seeds of our kind, in a way. Fragile, sometimes foolish. Sometimes with evil intent, often brave. They deserve to do better than survive out there. I want more for them than that. Sorry. I’m probably not making much sense.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Been a long few days.”
Mac eyed him cautiously, then made up her mind. “I knew someone like that,” she offered. “Just had to go to space. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t be satisfied with Earth. I argued with him, tried to keep him here.” With her.
“Let me guess. He left anyway.”
She nodded. “And didn’t come back. It’s taken me this long to understand, a little anyway. It wasn’t that Earth was too small for Sam. He saw what I didn’t, back then. Earth isn’t isolated, complete in itself. This world is part of something else, larger, waiting to be known. He wanted that something, be it space or other worlds. Guess I’m not making sense either,” she finished, frustrated.
Migration: Species Imperative #2 Page 47
