Silent Songs

by Kathleen O'Malley

  "Anticipating your concern, I consulted with Rand."

  The pharmacist stepped up. "Glorious First, you should know of... the limitations biochemical controls have on the humans."

  "What limitations?" Atle asked.

  "The humans have evolved from mammalian ancestors, and are much more primitive, biologically, than we are, who evolved from air-breathing water-dwellers.. .."

  155

  "What of it?" Atle snapped.

  "Their body chemistry keeps finding new ways to blunt the effect of our psychotropic drugs. We keep having to change the dosages. Sometimes, they have adverse reactions. We may have trouble controlling them with chemical restraints."

  "Then we'll use the methods our ancestors used," Atle sang.

  Rand and the Third exchanged concerned glances.

  "Are you going to tell me that the techniques our ancestors used to successfully conquer an entire planet won't be good enough for these humans!"

  "We would not be serving our First if we didn't point out the limitations," the Third reminded Atle. "The old methods require more controllers per capita and raise the costs. Also, those methods can cause certain personality types to rebel."

  "So, it will not be as easy as we had hoped," the First agreed, "but things will be different when their children are born in our pools, and grow up under our rods. Thank you for this information. I'll study your presentation further."

  The two squatted, then departed, leaving Atle watching grainy images of a mushroom cloud explosion. This was supposed to be the deciding factor in a huge and costly war that had ended countless lives and devastated entire portions of the planet. Atle watched it with a terrible fascination. These were the people his fortunes had sent him to conquer.

  "I wish I had watched her do it," Bruce signed.

  Tesa shook her head, exasperated, as they bent over the enigmatic space probe, an array of hand tools scattered around them. "Just all of a sudden, it came on."

  "She enhanced the holding tank's diagnostic computer," Bruce explained, peering at that dismembered machine. "See, these are her cells.. . . Then she did something else. . . . Must've been magic. .. ." He went back to examining the satellite.

  They hoped that if they could tap the probe's power source they could use it to boost the power of their ground-to-station equipment and send a warning to the Brolga, and possibly even the CLS. Bruce felt that if they could tap the power source, their communications would be strong, but primitive. He wasn't sure how they could keep the beam directed at the proper frequency either, but that worry was for the future.

  Nearby, Jib sat, arms folded, watching the exchange.

  Tesa gnawed her lip. "I know you want to use the diagnostics. ..."

  156

  "You're damned right, I do," Bruce admitted. "K'heera found a way to tap into this thing's power source, I've got to retrace her path, and figure out what she did.. .."

  "But if you use the computer," Tesa reminded him, "that thing's owners could detect it and come down on us."

  "Maybe," Bruce agreed, "but if I never use the computer, then I'll never figure out how to tap this thing's power source to send a call to the Brolga or the CLS. The Anurans will take the Brolga, and no one will miss her for weeks."

  Tesa's head wanted to explode. They'd been over this again and again. The tension among them was palpable. They'd moved three times in the last four days, but none of them could shake the feeling that they were moments away from capture.

  "Good Eyes," Lightning signed, "the Gray Winds have told me that the Anurans are leaving their colony in small groups and moving along the River."

  "Probably exploring," Bruce decided. "Maybe sending out biologists, or other specialists, to see what's available."

  "The Gray Winds say that the small groups move on flyers," Lightning told her, "and they carry lots of things with them. Mechanical things."

  Tesa waited for him to make his point. Information from the Gray Winds regarding the activities of the Anurans was critical to their safety.

  "We were all wondering," Thunder started signing, indicating herself and the cohort, "if these groups could somehow 'hear' your machinery, how they could tell it apart from their own."

  "I'm afraid it's very easy," Tesa explained. "Not only do our peoples use different languages, the machines themselves have their own way of talking, and those ways are so different.. . ."

  "Wait a minute, Tesa," Jib suddenly signed. He'd been depressed since the slaughter of the Singers, and had contributed so little to their conversations that Tesa and Bruce had grown accustomed to his silence. Now both of them watched him as he became suddenly animated. "There's something else to consider. You know at StarBridge, most of the telepaths are diurnal--

  they're awake and busy during the day. There's enough of them on the

  'Bridge now that communications during daytime, especially with some of the poorer trained students, can be difficult. Because . .. there's so much of it going on ... understand?"

  Bruce's face lit up. "I see what you're saying. The Anurans are diurnal.

  They've got exploratory groups scouting around, sending

  157

  reports. Communications are whizzing back and forth. ... If we use our equipment during midday, the chances are there'll be so much

  communications chatter . . . our tiny emanations could just be white noise."

  " 'Chances are ... ' " she repeated.

  "That's right," Bruce admitted. "It's a chance. But I can't find my way into this thing on luck. I've got to have help. Electronic help."

  "He's right," Jib prodded. "We'll have to take the chance."

  The young woman squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see any more signs. Then she felt a wing on her arm. She opened her eyes to face Thunder.

  "Let them use their machines, Good Eyes," Thunder suggested. "I'll ride the high thermals while they do and watch for the enemy. My brother and his cohort can hear my call and warn you if the enemy approaches."

  "We'll set a time limit," Bruce added. "Fifteen-minute intervals, four times a day . .. well, maybe six. . .. Something like that. When we're done for the day, we'll move camp again."

  They all watched her, waiting for her decision. She couldn't ask Bruce to perform miracles; she had to accept some risk. .. . "All right. But only after the Suns are all up."

  "Great! I'll start right now."

  "Come on," Tesa gestured to Jib as Thunder climbed into the sky. "Let's gather some lunch while he's working. We won't have time to do that if we have to leave in a hurry, and I want to keep watch for Flies-Too-Fast."

  Jib nodded, but his despondency had returned.

  As they collected nearby fruit, Tesa wished she could find the right thing to say to him about his sorrow. "Jib... I understand what you're going through. I felt that kind of helpless rage when I watched Thunder's father get killed, and when I learned about Black Feather's flock being slaughtered. It's painful, but you have to get over this. What happened to the Singers wasn't your fault. There was no way you could know."

  "Tell them that," he signed simply, and turned away.

  Tesa's hands hung suspended in air. She could think of nothing that would buffer the loss of the Singers' mental contact, or remove the brutal images of his dream. She wished she knew more about TSS, more about the

  withdrawal symptoms. She tried to think of something to distract him. "Look, I know we can't use the electronic equipment for this, but I always carry paper.

  It's a holdover from when I worked on Earth with hearing

  158

  people and never knew when I'd hit a communications snag. You can have it. You can write Anzi real letters on it!"

  He paused, thinking about that, then his face brightened. "Thanks, mate, that's right nice of you. I'll take you up on that. A bit of writing therapy, eh?

  Let's hope it works!"

  Tesa nodded curtly and watched the sky, as Thunder's dark silhouette circled above them. She only wished she
could indulge in her own therapy, to soar through the sky with Lightning, Thunder, and her cohort and leave her fear and anger behind. The nervous youngsters helped her gather fruit as each took their turn watching and listening for danger. How odd for them, she thought, to spend so much energy waiting for a predator when the land around them was devoid of animal life.

  Taniwha swam through the shallows of the tributary, carefully touching the minds of the three humans without letting them hear him. He was convinced Jib could explain the evil aliens to him. He thought, too, that if Jib was hiding an equally evil nature, he should confront him--pull the evil from the corners of his mind into the light. But whenever he probed Jib's memories, like now, all he could find was agonizing guilt over the pain Taniwha's people had suffered.

  He was confused. Jib had sent him to that place of blood and death, and the human felt those deaths were his doing ... yet he enjoyed no satisfaction or gladness, only profound grief. Taniwha worried over this, wanting to understand.

  Suddenly the shadow of his aunt passed over him, surprising the calf.

  Taniwha knew she'd be angry. As his nearest living relative, she was responsible for him now, nursing him and her own calf equally. She'd forbidden him to contact the humans, but the youngster knew the answers they needed lay with these beings. In his defense, Taniwha showed his aunt Jib's heartfelt mourning.

  The female rolled in the water, looking at her sister's son. Taniwha was sure Jib's feelings touched her deeply, but when he tried to persuade her to let him contact the human openly, she wouldn't respond. Disappointed, the calf had no choice but to swim away with her to feed.

  159

  CHAPTER 14

  The Rains

  "But it's been raining three days!" Lene complained as the steady downpour washed over her face and shoulders even as it dimpled the rising water. Her mother, Anchie, patted her consolingly as they strolled along the prefab walkways that crisscrossed the river, linking the colony's many buildings.

  "Why did the rains have to come? We've only been on this miserable planet twenty-one of its days." Her song grew mocking. "But the First says there's no time to breed. We can breed the next time. The next time! I'm ready now]"

  She'd never sung so honestly. She ached to shed her clothes and sing her passion while the sweet water flowed over her body. They'd been ordered to take hormone suppressants, but Lene had refused, hoping the rains would push Arvis into a breeding cycle.

  But they'd heard nothing from his family. Soon, Lene's hindbrain would override her sense and she'd fall into the arms of any available male. Her mother didn't dare leave her alone.

  "It's futile," Lene wailed. "He'l never breed!"

  Anchie stared over Lene's shoulder, her eyes widening, then instantly the matron fell into a squat. Lene spun in surprise as the First appeared behind her, his colors blazing.

  "No, dear Lene," he sang harshly, "your efforts were hardly futile." Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist roughly. "To give my son hormones. ..

  your plotting goes too far!" He yanked her rudely toward his home but she shrank back.

  "Glorious First," Anchie cried, "please! She's a child!"

  "No longer that," he replied, towing her forward.

  The older female paddled after them, singing timorously, "I have a right to be there! As her mother I have a right!"

  The First froze her with a stare. "Your conspiracy lost you your rights. Say good-bye to your daughter."

  "What will happen to her in the pool?" the frantic mother shrilled. "He could drown her, or claw her to death! And if he's

  160

  infertile ... she will be ruined! Glorious First!"

  "Mother, stop it!" Lene snapped, startling both adults. "Dunn will be there.

  I'll be fine." She fixed the First with a deliberate look. "And if Arvis is infertile... he will never be a citizen. That's what the Council decreed. So, the Industrious son of the First will be fertile. I can guarantee that, Mother."

  "Lene!" the elder female hissed, shocked into paleness.

  Atle glared. "You dare imply I would . . . ?"

  "I know that you are too honest, Glorious First, to substitute another male to guarantee your son's status ... even though there is another fertile male in your household--you. But the drugs my mother supplied me have insured Arvis' potency. I haven't plotted only for my own welfare!"

  "Yes," Atle replied, somewhat subdued. "Of course. Go home, Anchie. Lene will be safe in our pool."

  "As will the First's future grandchild," Lene reminded him.

  Her mother winced as Atle's color flared anew. He marched them along the walkway leading to his home. "Be smug," he warned. "Be clever. Soon we'll see where that has gotten you." He drew up to his front door and stared down at her. "How much did you give him? The rains here are potent. . . .

  Arvis is . . ."

  "He's ready!" she prompted hopefully.

  Atle laughed. "Ready? My son is ... as he would have been, had he been born Chosen ... he's ... magnificent."

  Lene's colors brightened.

  "But without the ability to control his strength. He does not have the conscience a breeding male needs. . . ."

  "You're wrong," she argued. "Arvis has all the conscience any male needs."

  She did not need him filling her with fear before the most important moment in her life. Did he expect her to dissolve into one of those terrified, scrambling females that had to be held in place? She passed him, opening his door.

  "He's in my pool," Atle told her, indicating the way. She walked through the compact rooms, passing Arvis' sister, who was dutifully filling lotion jars, oblivious to the drama taking place in her own home. Finally she entered the First's private chamber. She was surprised that it was as clean and spare as the group pools she shared, only smaller, and more intimate. She'd expected it to be opulent, but the brightly colored interior wasn't very different from what she was used to. The transparent walls and ceiling allowed natural light to flood the room. Sheets of rain drummed musically against the house, cascading over the room as if they were under a waterfall.

  161

  Next, she eyed the small, oblong pool itself. She stared, mesmerized at its beautiful, placid water, feeling its ancient call. Shuddering in desire, she imagined its liquid warmth surrounding her.

  Atle hissed against her tympani, "See your mate."

  The Industrious servant stood hunched near a rear wall, his mother nearly propping him up. Draped in an ill-fitting robe, he seemed miserably out of place. Shaking, he rocked back and forth, his voice a low, tuneless whine.

  Lene's heart sank.

  "Are you ready?" the First asked roughly.

  She'd imagined this moment a thousand times--the perfect political marriage.

  There would be a magnificent pool, richly garbed servants, all their parents proudly attending. And she'd envisioned him swathed in immaculate robes that would be dulled by his luminescent color. He would sing his need for her, his magnificent body filled with passion, yet still under his control. His embrace would be gentle, but powerful, and be impossible to resist. His expert technique would release her own passion as his legs stroked hers, freeing the egg within her.

  Reality slapped her hard as Arvis spied her from across the room and lurched clumsily in her direction. His mother nearly lost her grip as he reached wildly, crying, "Lene! Lene!"

  "No . . ." she gasped, stepping back, but the First held her still. Her fantasy burst like an oily bubble on a polluted pool.

  "Into the water," Atle growled.

  "I can't," she whispered. She ached to breed, but the shambling, stunted male before her filled her with fear and revulsion. "I can't... I won't!"

  "You will," Atle ordered, and shoved her toward the pool.

  "Atle!" his wife shrilled from across the room. "She must be calm or we'll never be able to help them through this!"

  Dunn's rational voice tempered the First. It helped Lene, too. This had been her idea. She pulled awa
y from the First. "I'm all right!" She dropped her garment and Arvis glowed as he gazed at her. "He's still your son, my First.

  You've taught him to attend your every physical need. He hasn't forgotten all that now." Without a glance back, she entered the calm water.

  As the First helped his wife get Arvis out of his robe, Lene realized what she'd said was true. In breeding condition, Arvis was the image of his father.

  His body was magnificent, but the confusion and pain on his face ended the similarity. For the first time Lene realized the tragedy of the First's loss.

  Arvis and his parents entered the water. The Industrious youth

  162

  lunged at her, his tail twitching so violently she feared he might release his seed too soon. "Lene! Lene!" he panted.

  The membranes on her back were swollen, itching, ready to enfold a fertile egg. Her mother's warning echoed in her mind, but she shut the frightening images away.

  Arvis surged forward and the First restrained him, but soon, Lene knew, she would have to control him. "Arvis, listen to me!"

  The youth paused, staring as if he'd never get enough of her beauty. He'd be totally devoted, she realized, forever faithful. He would never shame her with trips to the hatchery, never breed young virgins when she grew old. "Arvis, do you love me?"

  He blinked slowly. "Oh, yes. Yes, I really do!"

  "If you love me, then won't you help me ... like you help your father?" Both Atle and Dunn stared at her, confused.

  "Yes, I'll help you," Arvis declared.

  With a twinge of fear, she turned her back to him. "Then .. . give me a massage, dear Arvis. I'm ... so tired ... please?"

  He groaned. "A ... massage?"

  "Yes ... like you give your father?"

  She could see him thinking furiously, but his tail slowed and he relaxed. "All right... a massage . . . ?"

  "Yes, please. Your father says . .. you're so gentle. ..."

  She saw awareness growing in Atle's eyes. He nodded at Dunn and they released their hold. Instead of lunging wildly and grappling her frantically, the Industrious male, trained from infancy to serve others, gently massaged Lene's back. He sang softly as his desire raged within him, and Lene felt her body responding to his light but confident touch. Carefully, she reached behind and took his hands, pulling them around her.