Silent Songs

by Kathleen O'Malley

  He held up his hands, then signed quickly, making sure K'heera couldn't observe him. "I know I was eager to go before, but things have changed. I need to stay and make more contacts with the Singers. I'll be cautious, I promise."

  Tesa suddenly found it hard to be objective. This was the kind of thing every StarBridge student dreamed of, to make a First Contact--get to know the people, find out who they were, learn their culture, their language. She remembered the moment Thunder's mother first spoke to her--she'd felt the same euphoria .. . and that had nothing to do with TSS! Yet, she was responsible for

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  Jib's well-being. She had to be cautious. "I know how you feel, but. . . this isn't why you were sent here."

  Jib's heavily lashed eyes darkened. "I know, but. . ."

  "You're supposed to be doing a pair project," Tesa reminded him. She felt self-conscious having this conversation with everyone hovering around them, but Jib needed to learn this now. The others politely turned their attention elsewhere. "You've stopped working with K'heera. The two of you are now pursuing different interests. Is that what you want?"

  Jib pondered that for a while. Finally, he signed, "Yes."

  Tesa's eyes opened in surprise.

  "I think this whole plan of Rob Gable's and Ambassador Dhurrrkk's was a mistake from the beginning," Jib declared. "She didn't want to come, she has no interest in us. . . ."

  "You were supposed to be the counterbalance to K'heera's lacks, but you gave up on her," Tesa reminded him. "It may have been a mistake to send you both here, but I'm not ready to admit that yet. If the Singers are intelligent, it'll be wonderful, Jib, but they'll always be here. K'heera needs to have contact with humans now, and you've been letting Bruce do your job."

  She glared at the weatherman, daring him to interfere, but he had wisely turned his attention to his shoes.

  "And my going to the Crane will be the answer?" Jib asked.

  "Only in part. You have to work with K'heera. You have to make a contact with her. You have to make this assignment a success." Tesa recognized his expression--it was the one he made whenever she prodded him to do things he didn't want to, but knew he should.

  After a tense moment, he nodded abruptly. "Right. I'll give it a fair go." Then he turned toward the River.

  None-So-Pretty stepped up to him, openly curious. "Can you really talk mind-to-mind with the Spirit Singers?" The others seemed just as interested in his answer.

  "Not really," Jib admitted. "We'll need to bring in a true telepath for that. But I can hear them, and communicate a little. It's sort of like trading feelings more than talking."

  Flies-Too-Fast peered at Jib with one eye. "Can you hear spirits behind those feelings?"

  Tesa knew that Jib would have normally been amused by such a

  suggestion. While he respected the Grus' beliefs, he had no primal faith of his own. But the look in the avian's eye, and the way he phrased the question, made Jib hesitate. Tesa had recognized an almost spiritual feeling when that alien mind touched hers. For

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  Jib, that would be something he couldn't analyze or explain away. It would be a new experience for him.

  She saw him touch the tiki hanging around his neck. "Maybe . . ." he signed,

  "but if so, they're friendly spirits."

  K'heera ran her fingers over the Demoiselle's control panel, enjoying the feel of the well-designed board against her leathery palms. Its design was a variation on a classic Simiu one. It never bothered humans to use the best of other cultures for their own benefit. Her own people were often held back by a stubborn chauvinism, insisting on using only their own products.

  Bruce had told her that he still hoped to go after the meteor later today. He asked her if she'd accompany him on the dive, and she agreed. Bruce wanted to be sure K'heera still felt she had some purpose on Trinity.

  The young Simiu stared out over the wide river. As much as she tried not to think of it, and as much as Bruce tried to distract her with talk of work, she couldn't deny the fact that the humans had made yet another First Contact right in front of her. What would her family say? Especially when they discovered--and K'heera had no doubt that they would--that she'd nearly slept through the whole thing. She'd tried to ignore the tenuous mental song that finally woke her. But only the Grus seemed to understand the natural aversion she felt to receiving that song. To have someone else's thoughts in your head was as unnatural as seeing someone else wearing your face, K'heera thought.

  She glanced sideways at Jib, sitting at the river's edge. His glassy-eyed rapturous look made her flesh crawl.

  She had thought that "tomorrow"--now, today--she would begin making amends to Jib ... try to get closer to him. Seeing how easily he had responded to the Singers shattered that hope. It did something else, too--it made her understand why her people would always have problems with First Contacts, and why they frequently had problems dealing with the CLS.

  Her people just weren't adaptable enough, they were too ethnocentric. The humans were so malleable, so eager to contact other races. Her people had always viewed it as a worthwhile task, but they didn't have that eagerness to accept an alien as a friend, as an equal, the way so many humans did.

  Ambassador Dhurrrkk' did, but he was different from anyone in her family.

  K'heera felt despondent. She tried to look forward to diving after the meteor, but basically once you'd captured one chunk of space rock, you'd captured them all.

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  She thought of Ambassador Dhurrrkk' again, and his high hopes for her.

  He'd spent a lot of time with her, flattering her, acting the uncle, trying to open her mind to opportunities this task might supposedly give her.

  He had helped discover the planet Avernus and its race of intelligent fungi.

  Avernus was so small, and Trinity so big . . .

  Big enough for the Grus, the Aquila, and now the Singers. K'heera followed Jib's gaze over the water, wondering what the chances were that there might be another intelligent race somewhere on this planet that she might contact?

  Slim to none -- as the humans would say. But it would take nothing less than a First Contact to help the Harkk'etts. Without that, K'heera would return to Hurrreeah with even greater dishonor than when she left. The hopelessness of it was as suffocating as water rushing over her head.

  Tesa sat cross-legged in the shade of her lean-to, her woven feather shirt in her lap. Holding a comb that Taller had made for her, she used it with a dressing made from the hearts of reeds to preen the shirt's feathers. Four of her cohort--Frost Moon, None-So-Pretty, Snowberry, and Lightning--lay sleeping, tightly bunched around her, their legs folded under them, their necks intertwined. Two had their heads hidden in her lap under her shirt.

  Outside the shelter, Thunder perched on the roof, while the rest of the cohort preened, except for Hurricane and Flies-Too-Fast, whose turn it was to guard.

  Lunch had been hard-shelled fruits that fell from nearby trees, and a crunchy seaweed that Jib said was one of the Singers' favorites. It was tasty, and for once did not cause any recriminations from the Simiu.

  The Simiu. Tesa stopped her preening, and stared out over the River. It was sixteen-twenty. Bruce and K'heera had been gone about six hours. She was glad Bruce had taken K'heera to go after the meteor--the tension level had dropped dramatically as soon as they had clambered into the small vessel.

  She didn't know what to think about Bruce. She'd been surprised when he'd easily accepted the possibility of the Singers' intelligence. He'd been really solicitous of K'heera, too. It seemed as if he'd really pushed his prejudices aside.

  Peripherally, she realized the avians that had been preening stopped when she did, gazing where she gazed. Smiling, she went back to her shirt. It made them uneasy when the Demoiselle went below.

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  Her eyes moved to the River's edge. Jib lay wrapped in his blanket in a sandy, sunny spot, catching up on some of the sleep he'd lost last night. This would be a
good time to have a private talk with him, before the Demoiselle returned.

  She folded the shirt Weaver had made for her, put it in a mesh bag, and hung it from the ceiling. All she really needed to wear in the warm tropical sun was her aged, cut-down StarBridge jumpsuit. It was barely more than a camisole now, and even the indestructible logo of the rainbow bridge spanning planets that sat over the breast pocket was cracked and faded.

  Gently, Tesa extricated herself from the mass of warm feathers and left the shelter, signaling to the others to stay behind. The spot left vacant by her absence fil ed in quickly, and only Lightning watched her approach the sleeping Jib.

  The young man blinked as her shadow crossed his face, then glanced around disoriented, finally turning toward the River. As soon as he did, water spouts sounded in the deepest channel. . . ten . .. twenty--Tesa lost count.

  Opening her mind, she felt their music wash over her. It was different from last night, more like conversation. Or maybe she was more accustomed to it.

  Where are we going? Are you hungry? This plant is sweet. It wasn't that simple, but it resembled that kind of exchange.

  Jib turned to her, that other-worldly expression on his face. "Can you hear them?"

  Tesa nodded. It was a special, intimate contact, and she regretted deeply that she had to ask him to give it up.

  "I heard them even in my sleep," he signed. "It was hard to rest. .. but. .. still, very enjoyable. Like someone putting dreams right into your head."

  "Jib.. .." Her signs forced his attention back to her. "We've got to talk.. . ."

  His face was innocent of expression, as if he couldn't imagine what she wanted.

  "I want to be honest with you," she told him. "I want to be sure you know why I'm sending you to the Singing Crane."

  His expression darkened. "We've already had this talk. . . ."

  "Not completely. I didn't want... to discuss this in front of Bruce. I'm worried about you . . . about. . . your health."

  Now he only seemed confused.

  "Your mental health."

  "Oh, come on ... not that again. . . ." His expression changed. As if something had just occurred to him, he asked, "You're not planning on keeping me there for our whole stay, are you?"

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  She'd hoped he wouldn't ask her that question.

  "Tesa, you've got to give me a fair go! It's my contact!"

  "I know. And I know how disappointed you must feel. But before I can let you continue communicating with the Singers, Jib, I've got to talk to Rob."

  "You know what he'll say!"

  "No, I don't," she insisted. "You said yourself that telepathy with these creatures was different from anything you've experienced. I agree with that.

  There may be no effect on a TSSsensitive individual... or the effect may be worse. I can't use you as a guinea pig to test that out. What kind of a ... friend would I be if I did?"

  He seemed crushed, and Tesa was surprised at how little he could hide it.

  After mulling things for a few moments, he signed, "Right, then, I'll oblige you, mate ... on one condition."

  She peered at him warily, agreeing to nothing.

  "Ask Rob to send Anzia to 'talk' to the Singers. She's got a natural rapport with nonverbal beings, she's a real telepath, and she loves the water! If she were here, at least I'd get to see and talk to her through hologram .. . and I could work with the Singers through her. I could stay on the Crane and handle documentation, stuff like that. At least I wouldn't be out of the loop.

  Then, if I could get someone to clear me of this bogus health problem, I could go right back to work. If you ask for it, Tesa, they'll give it to you. Come on!"

  She thought of herself being pulled away from Taller, Weaver, and Lightning, thought of never flying with the cohort again. She nodded. "Okay, Jib. It's a fair trade. I'll push for it. If you'll fulfill your obligations with K'heera."

  He nodded agreeably this time. "I promise. Still, it's hard for me to believe any effort of mine will change her much."

  "Keep that attitude, and you're bound to fail," Tesa admonished him.

  Jib turned his head abruptly, and stood, pointing. Tesa noticed the avians all respond to his alertness as, in the midst of the herd of beings, the Demoiselle slowly broke the surface.

  K'heera piloted it to the beach, setting it on the sand. In front of the small ship, grapplers held something in a safety container, but the transparent receptacle was full of lemon-yellow seaweed and water, making it impossible to see the prize.

  Bruce was the first to open his door. He nearly leaped from the small ship, shouting and signing, "Wait'll you see it!"

  "What happened?" Tesa asked. "What did you find?"

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  Bruce pointed at K'heera. "She saw it before I did. Tell 'em, l'il darlin'."

  K'heera's vivid purple eyes glanced at Bruce quizzically when he mouthed that strange endearment. "Well. .." she signed hesitantly, "it was quite a surprise. You see, it's not a meteor at all... it's an alien probe."

  The words struck Tesa like a blow. Like an ominous flashback, Old Bear's face floated before her, his hands saying, "There was blood in the water, and something un-Worldly. . . ." Was that from one of her vague, formless dreams?

  "Whose probe?" she finally asked. The cohort slowly gathered around her.

  She felt the distinctive texture of the Aquila's feathers brush her thigh, even as Lightning's neck rested against her shoulder. They'd read her body language; they knew something was wrong.

  "That's just it!" Bruce signed delightedly. "We don't know! Some unknown race sent an exploratory probe out like we used to in the twentieth century.

  Once we get this baby to the Singing Crane, we can figure out how old it is, maybe trace its origin."

  "Its shape and style is similar to some of the early probes my people sent out," K'heera signed. "If there are other similarities, then the satellite may have its own power source, its own internal computer and library."

  Even Jib grew interested. "D'you think we might figure out what sector it's from? Could it... lead us to another Contact?"

  "Now, that's getting ahead of ourselves," Bruce told him. "But many of Earth's old probes actually had solar system maps on them in case intelligent people found them. There could be something similar on this, or maybe in its programming. It'll sure keep us busy for a while. It's some discovery."

  Tesa should've felt as excited as Jib, Bruce, and K'heera, but she didn't.

  Instead, she was overwhelmed with dread. With all the celestial orbs in this solar system, why had that thing come to Trinity? Something about the probe and her ugly, formless dreams made her shiver with a dark premonition.

  "Let's look at the container's diagnostics," Bruce signed. He and K'heera removed the bulky container from the ship's grapples and hoisted it to a flat spot. Bruce touched the control panel on the front of the clear container and watched its scrolling information. "Well, it's not emitting radiation," he read,

  "so we can drain the seawater."

  He tapped a sequence on the panel, and the sandy water leached away onto the beach. Bright orange algae and yel ow seaweed

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  slowly sank to the bottom of the container, except for one long strand that draped itself decorously around the probe.

  "The two months it's been underwater have given it a beard," Bruce signed as the multicolored organisms on the surface of the object began to sag without their watery support. "There are still clean places, though. See those hieroglyphics?"

  Tesa saw some unusual writing embossed on the artificial surface. The probe itself was not much bigger than a soccer ball, and most of it was smooth. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, she glanced away, only to realize that she was surrounded by avians, who were peering at the thing uneasily. She knew she should reassure them . . . but couldn't find the signs.

  "I can't wait to get inside it," Bruce added. "Haven't you heard from Meg yet, Tesa?" The weatherman's question pulled the
young woman away from her thoughts.

  Typical, Tesa thought. He hadn't noticed the biologist's absence before, but now it was an emergency. "She didn't think she could get here before fourteen hundred, and it's only two hours past that. You know she always underestimates how long a task takes. Manufacturing new parts takes time, and who knows what the story is on that silent satellite?"

  Bruce waved an impatient hand. "We've got a real find here, and we're stuck staring at it. She can forget the parts if they're not ready, and just pick us up!"

  Lifting his voder, he tapped in a sequence. "Oh, for cryin' . . . Look at this!"

  Tesa glanced at her own device.

  "The personnel you have called are not available at this time," the Crane's computer reported. "Please leave a message."

  "They must be asleep!" Bruce signed irritably. "It'd be just like Meg to work all night, then spend the day in the sack."

  "So, just override the 'don't disturb' and have the computer wake them," Jib suggested. Tesa smiled. It was everyone's favorite trick on StarBridge.

  Bruce nodded, tapping in a sequence. Then he tapped in another. And another.

  The original computer message was still on screen. Tesa stared at the small voder, feeling oddly lightheaded.

  "Meg's gotten too damned good with the Crane computer," Bruce decided.

  "But I'll be leaving one cranky message!"

  "No!" Tesa signed impulsively, before the weatherman could log it in. "Don't, Bruce. Just end transmission."

  He regarded her oddly, as did Jib and K'heera. "Why not?"

  Yeah, she asked herself, why not.

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  Suddenly Lightning interrupted. "Don't send the message, Fisher, please.

  Good Eyes has a good reason for asking, even if she doesn't know what it is."

  Flies-Too-Fast ceremoniously lowered his head in agreement, and the rest of the cohort followed. Tesa faced them gratefully. They were Trinity's own people; their request couldn't be easily ignored.

  "Sure thing," the weatherman agreed amiably, but his eyes held disappointment. "But Meg and Szu-yi better get here soon!"

  Tesa touched Lightning and Thunder absently as Bruce and K'heera stared at the alien probe and Jib turned his own gaze toward the sprays of the splashing, playful Singers. Unable to understand her own seemingly irrational fears, she focused instead on Meg's and Szu-yi's imminent arrival.