Silent Songs

by Kathleen O'Malley

  Six months ago, if anyone had told her she would have found herself longing for the company of a human, she would have challenged that fool. But now, as she made adjustments to this complicated alien program, adjustments that were getting harder and harder to conceal, she longed to see Bruce's sly smile, to take heart from his casual confidence, his outstanding courage, and the honor he wore so easily. He was her true uncle, and the fear that threatened her resolve was partly for him. Where was he now? What was he enduring at the hands of these monsters?

  Don't think about that, l'il darlin', she could hear him saying in her mind, the only place she could hear anything now. We'll lay a hurtin' on these bastards, you'll see.

  She finished her work and slowed her breathing. It sickened her to think of the countless embryos nurtured nearly to hatching. What kind of a people devoured their own young? In shame, she remembered her sanctimonious criticism of the Honored Interrelator as she consumed a lower form of life.

  K'heera had thought she understood what was right and wrong then.

  She shook her head, needing to be clear-minded now. She owed that to the Interrelator, she owed it to Bruce.

  The Interrelator had done her part. Word was that she'd damaged barracks and freed some captives, including Weaver, who had killed a guard. K'heera knew that wouldn't have happened if not for the information she'd given Thunder, and was proud of that. The Simiu knew, too, that the Interrelator had used a weapon to slay another guard and save Weaver's life. She knew it and was glad and paused not a moment at that incongruity.

  But that disruption might have meant terrible punishment for Bruce or Szu-yi, or anyone that was close to the Interrelator.

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  Don't worry about that, lil darlin', Bruce assured her in her mind. It's nothin'

  we can't handle.

  K'heera didn't want to think about what would happen when the eggs died.

  She refused to wonder if the innocent egg-layers would sicken in their pools.

  She wouldn't think about the soldiers coming for her, as they had for Bruce.

  She wouldn't let her mind wander--not even for a second--about what they would do to her when they determined she was responsible.

  Stop thinking. Just work. She moved forward, then felt something odd, and nervously looked over her shoulder.

  That's when she saw the new soldier who'd been put in charge of the hatchery. His very presence was enough to terrify the Industrious, and even the Chosen trainers seemed frightened of him. And now he was watching her.

  Did he see anything? Does he know what I'm doing?

  The green and gold alien watched her, then casually walked away as if he'd seen nothing of importance. She forced herself to turn and trot on to her next assignment. She longed for Bruce, for his smile, his odd way of signing, his calming adult assurance. But Bruce had been taken away.

  I'll lay a hurting on them, she told herself. Their punishment is nothing I can't handle.

  It was too late now to turn her back, either on the job Bruce had left her ... or on the path of her own honor.

  They made quite a procession--Tesa, Old Bear, First-Light, and the other five humans rescued from the Anuran camp. Around them strode the cohort, who were surrounded by a growing mass of curious Grus. The sporadic buffeting of vocal outbreaks was bone-jarring, even for Tesa.

  When she finally spied Meg sitting between Jib and Weaver, the young woman had to school her face to keep it from showing the shock she felt at her friend's appearance. The older woman's skin was almost gray, and for the first time, the seventy-year-old biologist seemed frail. Tesa hugged her carefully, and was pleased at the strength in Meg's returning embrace.

  "How are the others?" the Indian woman asked. "Have you seen them?

  Have you . .. seen Bruce?"

  Meg nodded. "When I saw him last, he was fine. He'd been working with K'heera, trying to sabotage the food factory."

  "Then K'heera's all right?"

  The blue eyes saddened. "They took her nullifiers away when they first captured her. She's deaf, Tesa."

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  No, she's not, she's Hearing... Tesa thought for a second before she reoriented. K'heera had been deafened! With no one there to console her, relieve her pain and fear, or help her adjust to a whole new way of living?

  "At least she knows Grus Sign Language," Meg continued. "She's been a big help to Bruce .. . before they were separated."

  "I came to rescue you," Tesa signed with a wry expression. "Too bad you couldn't wait." She indicated the group standing awkwardly nearby. "I had to settle for what I could get."

  The Russian woman grinned. "Golubchik, you brought out the cream of the crop! Javier is a wild foods gourmet! He kept our diets supplemented, and our morale up... ." She eyed Tesa's odd expression and trailed off.

  "Why did they let you and Old Bear go, Meg?" Tesa asked, Jib waved a hand at her, interrupting. "There's a whole lot been going on, mate, that you've missed."

  His large eyes were brighter than she'd seen them in a long time. His whole expression was different--expectant, hopeful... almost euphoric. So, he had made contact with the Singers. She didn't know whether to be happy about that or sad.

  "He's right. We have a lot to talk about, dear," Meg agreed, "but this discussion must be shared with everyone. Some of the Gray Winds helped us clear a 'story' circle"--for the first time, Tesa noticed the wide patch of bare sandy soil near them--"so we can convey the essence of our news with those who can't sign, and learn anything they might want to say."

  Tesa nodded, then made herself comfortable between Meg and Weaver, her cohort settling onto their hocks behind her. Taller stood to the side with some of the other Grus leaders. Frost Moon, his cinnamon and white feathers gleaming in the sun, moved around the circle, handing the humans small sticks they could use to write in the sand. The extra effort made the ship's crew smile in appreciation. When Javier assumed the interpreter's job, Tesa nodded a curt "thank you" to him.

  Suddenly there was a rustle of activity among the Wind people, then small net baskets appeared and Tesa remembered the other reason they were there--to eat! The sight of fresh food reminded her of how hungry she was, so for a while there was no conversation as the humans helped themselves to a variety of Trinity's tropical foods, including greens, fruits, tubers, and freshwater shellfish. They shared the bounty until nothing was left but shells, rinds, and remnants. Tesa caught Taller's eye and acknowledged his hospitality.

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  Finally, she scrubbed her hands in the sand, as the Grus began to preen.

  "That'll hold me," she signed. "How about the rest of you?"

  Javier conveyed a Grus thank you to their benefactors, and all the Terrans copied it.

  Then Jib sat up on his heels and told the story of his latest contact with the Singers. "They're frightened," he concluded, "but they're healthy. They've confused the Anurans with their old enemy, 'the Great Hunger,' and the terror they're living under is ... terrible."

  Tesa rubbed her forehead distractedly, remembering the frightening predator she'd imagined when they'd first found Taniwha stranded on the sandbar.

  "Jib, this monster they're afraid of, any idea if that thing is a real threat now? I kept wondering about that when we were wading through the River last night."

  Javier hesitated in his translation, and for once he appeared unsettled. It almost made her smile. Finally, he scrawled a translation, and she watched the others pale.

  The Maori shrugged. "Whenever they think of it, the memories are as fresh as yesterday. But they have no sense of time. Tesa, what are you thinking?"

  She shook her head. "Maybe it's extinct, just a memory that frightens them."

  "I'll try talking to them again," Jib offered, "but even if I can find out anything useful, I don't see what good it'll do."

  "It's the longest long shot," she admitted, "but.. ." She hesitated, not wanting to admit to him she was thinking of something she'd seen in a dream. "I have to wonder ...
if they had anything to do with this monster's extinction. They've driven everyone else away from the River. If they did, might there be some hope that they could help defeat the Anurans?"

  Jib's euphoria dimmed. "When the Singers tried, they failed. That's rattled them the most, since they could affect their old predator, once they became aware of its presence."

  Weaver fluffed her feathers out. "The Healer would talk about the aliens when we worked together, remember, First-One?"

  Meg nodded, looking pensive.

  "She talked about their physical differences," the female avian continued.

  "How they took in moisture through their skin, how they laid clear, gelatinous eggs that had to be kept moist."

  "Szu-yi talked about them incessantly," Meg admitted, "as if she wanted us to know as much about them as she did. We hated hearing about them, but it seemed to help her."

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  "She said they have two brains," Weaver signed matter-of-factly. "I thought that explained their madness, but the Healer said it was important, their two brains."

  The elder woman agreed. "She was obsessed by that, their split brains.

  One's in their tail, like a big nerve cluster. She kept telling us to get word to K'heera so she could tell Thunder, so we did, but we couldn't see what difference it made."

  "Thunder relayed it," Tesa assured her. "Do the Singers know that, Jib?

  Would it matter to them?"

  "When they touch another mind, they study it first, so they might already know, but 'no stone unturned,' eh?"

  Tesa sighed, frustrated, and waited for Javier to catch up with his transcribing. "If we attempt to free the Singers from the west end of the River, will they cooperate with you, Jib?"

  "I don't know. I'll talk to them. .. ."

  She wondered about the price he would end up paying for that contact. She turned to Meg. "So, how did you both get away?"

  "We didn't get away, Tesa. We were released. The Glorious ... that is, the First, the leader. . . wants to negotiate with you. His society doesn't believe in waging war that causes death. The price is more than he wants to pay. He sent us to tell you he's ready to talk, now."

  The Indian woman felt color flood her face, but before she could respond Jib interjected excitedly, "Negotiate? He'll negotiate? That's incredible!"

  The nonsigning humans began gesturing animatedly, talking so rapidly that Javier could not read their lips. It was confusing for them, trying to speak to each other and to him, when none of them could hear.

  Finally, when he understood what they were trying to say, he told Tesa,

  "They're afraid it's a trap for you. They ... we experienced how ruthless these people are. None of us believe he has any interest in negotiation, we think he just wants to get hold of you and squash any rebellion you could foment."

  "He anticipated that concern," Meg explained. "He's willing to talk with anyone Tesa appoints as her representative. He doesn't expect her to come forward personally."

  "I'll do it!" Jib volunteered, before Tesa could respond. "I've had training in negotiations at StarBridge, and I'm willing to take any chance if it will bring peace back to the World."

  There was an excited exchange of signs among the Grus leaders and more heated discussion among the humans. Then Taller gave the Wind people's consensus. "The prey can't negotiate with the

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  predator! While the prey sets terms, the predator eats."

  "That's not always true," Jib signed respectful y. 'The Blue Cloud people negotiated a truce with your ancestors, and only recently you made peace with the Hunters."

  Taller's crown flared, but he couldn't deny that. It helped Jib's argument that Tesa herself had negotiated that last peace.

  "I feel very awkward," Meg admitted, "having to convey the message of these ... beings. .. who, frankly, I despise. The First has Bruce, Szu-yi, and Nadine separated from the others in a more secure area, he says, to protect his people from you, Tesa. But, it also puts them in the position of being valuable hostages."

  "The very reason we should take up his offer," Jib insisted. "How else can we test his sincerity? If he takes your negotiator-- me--hostage, then Tesa, you can do whatever you want in good conscience, since his offer is meaningless. But if it's sincere, we might be able to end this conflict! We might even be able to turn this into a First Contact! By the time the CLS gets here, we could be into a negotiated peace!"

  The effects of the Singers' mental contact grew more apparent on the young man as his enthusiasm soared. Tesa caught sight of her grandfather's expression and inclined her head toward him, wanting to know his views.

  "It's always tempting to talk peace," Old Bear assured Jib. "And while talking, active hostilities are usually ended. That's good. While they hold our people, we can hope that they'll be treated well. In the meantime, we can count the days until the CLS arrives, so they can bring trained diplomats to continue the negotiations we begin. It could be a good start. . . ." ¦ "But. . ."

  Jib prodded.

  "While we negotiate, they entrench. They still hold our people. They still live on the World, and learn about us through our own records. Years could pass before anything is decided. Time is on their side. Negotiating just buys them more."

  "But we have to try]" Jib insisted. "On Earth, my people and yours fought their invaders well, and still, we lost. Our people died, our land was taken, our cultures nearly destroyed. How long did it take your ancestors to win back the Black Hills? You achieved that through negotiation hundreds of years after futile conflicts. We have a better choice now, and we've got to try!"

  Old Bear smiled ruefully. "Your eloquence is a credit to your people, son.

  They'd be proud to hear you."

  "I can do this," Jib assured Tesa, "I know it! Please!" He looked around for support, and spied Taller.

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  Tesa watched the white avian try to stare Jib down, but he couldn't. Ruffling his feathers, the leader told the human youth, "We want the World free of these beings as quickly as possible, however we must. And we trust Good Eyes to help us find the way to do it."

  "This could be the way," Jib insisted, but seeing Taller's resistance, turned back to Tesa. "You're not going to let them put this all on you? That's a hell of a thing to carry, mate."

  I'm an Interrelator, she thought frantically. My job is to speak for the people.

  She struggled with the decision, wishing the choices would go away, wishing she would wake up and this would be just another bad dream she needed to interpret.

  "Please, Tesa," Jib implored, "let me have a shot at this."

  She rose abruptly, gathering her old star quilt around her out of habit. "I've heard you!" she signed, more abruptly than she'd intended. "I've listened to everything you've all said. I need some time to think this through. ... We'll discuss it again, when I have a solution."

  Tesa felt her head hammering. Her inner soul howled with laughter.

  Solutions? What solutions? She clung to the quilt and marched across the grassland as the army of Grus parted before her like the Red Sea before Moses. She walked alone, heading for nowhere, feeling as though she understood nothing. A warm wind whipped around her as the eyes of a thousand people and a handful of humans watched her, until they were far behind her on the endless plain. But they were still watching, she knew, still waiting, for the answer only a heyoka could find.

  CHAPTER 21

  Heyoka Medicine

  "Negotiate, like hell!" Martin Brockman mouthed.

  Javier had to sympathize.

  "They've still got the Brolga, her Captain, and half our crew! There's no way we'll go along with that decision."

  Crouched, Javier wrote, "What can you do alone?"

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  "I'm not alone. Moshe, Chris, Noriko, and Carlotta agree with me. We're not negotiating."

  "The Interrelator needs our support," the ethnobotanist wrote.

  Martin stopped Javier's hand. "If I owe anybody in this plac
e, it's you. We all do. You found those leaves that cleaned out our systems, made sure the Interrelator took us along. . . ."

  Javier shook his head. He'd only done his part.

  "Okay, okay! We'll see what she has to say, and decide then. Good enough?"

  Javier nodded grudgingly, but as Martin walked away toward the others, the scientist had mixed feelings.

  "Suppressing rebellion?" Meg signed, appearing beside him. Old Bear was with her, his young eyes seeming incongruous in his worn, old face.

  Javier shrugged tiredly.

  She linked an arm through his, while talking with the other. "Ever regret answering my invitation?"

  He remembered how Weaver looked, flying to freedom on his feather grafting. He remembered, too, a dark figure in the water, pulling him to safety. "Whatever's happened ... whatever happens ... I'm glad to be a part of it. I'm glad to be here."

  "I wanted to say something to you about that meeting with Tesa. . . . She's been on Trinity so long she's . . . out of sync with humans. She must've seemed a little rough around the edges. .. ."

  "Don't apologize for her," Javier insisted. "She doesn't have to cater to human needs. The Grus are her people now, Meg. She belongs here. She belongs to them. She's very lucky. Believe me, I only wish I could .. . offer her something she couldn't get from . .. her people. . .."

  "What the hell does that mean?" Meg asked bluntly.

  He turned away. "If I were ten years younger . . ."

  She patted his scarred cheek. "Javier, dear, why don't you concern yourself with something important, like, will there be a free Trinity a year from now?"

  "Ever try one of these?" Old Bear asked suddenly, handing the botanist a thin, orange leaf. "They're good."

  Javier was so relieved to change the subject that he took the leaf and chewed it, barely giving it a glance. Citrus and mint flooded his mouth, the taste surprisingly familiar. The Interrelator had made him eat these when he'd gone light-headed. He'd never taste that flavor again without thinking of her. Why did that make his chest tighten up?