Regeneration (Czerneda)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  “He’s a spy?” Townee pressed her palms flat on the table as she surged to her feet. “Captain, we can’t permit any passenger to report on internal ship business, let alone how we carry out our orders!”

  “Those orders include full cooperation with the IU and the joint investigation into the Dhryn,” Gillis said mildly, tapping the table with his forefinger. He appeared thoughtful.

  Although she sat back down, from her scowl Mac doubted Townee was finished. Sure enough. “Captain. At least let me make adjustments to our security—”

  “Idiot!” Fourteen interrupted. “The Sinzi have never taken such a bold step before. That should tell you how high the stakes have become. These are beings of immense strobis! Your security is irrelevant. Bah! You are irrelevant!”

  “Not helping,” Mac whispered at him.

  “Dr. Connor?”

  She swung her head back to the captain, feeling like a student caught peeking at a fellow’s exam. “Yes?”

  “But, Captain . . .”

  “Enough.” Said quietly, but Townee subsided without another word. “Dr. Connor,” the captain continued, “clearly Rumnor and his people knew the Sinzi were coming.”

  “I didn’t,” she said warily, guessing where this was going.

  “I could tell.” Gillis smiled. “No one’s that good an actor.” His smile faded. “Yet this is the second time today I’m faced with an unexplained connection between you, Dr. Connor, and arguably the most important species within the IU. No offense, but what’s going on? Aren’t you just a translator?”

  “So I’m told,” Mac agreed, beginning to see the poor captain’s dilemma. Like the Frow, he was doing his best to find and navigate a rational chain of command. Shame she couldn’t offer one. “Though most of the time I’m a biologist. This is only my second trip away from Earth.”

  Norris turned to face her. “Your first was aboard the Dhryn freighter Pasunah.”

  Part of the meeting after all.

  “Yes. I provided a description.”

  He had a long face, the sort that finished puberty with middle-aged jowls and, in some personalities, laugh lines. Didn’t appear to have any of those. His thick black hair was mussed, as if he hadn’t noticed it yet this morning. His clothes were creased in odd places, implying they’d spent too much time packed.

  “I’ve read your account, Dr. Connor,” Norris said in a dismissive voice. He took a seat one away from Townee, as if needing space—or a stage, Mac grumbled to herself. He leaned back and steepled his fingers. “We’ll have to see if you can recall anything useful.”

  Mac’s lips twisted. “Have you been on a Dhryn ship, Dr. Norris?”

  “I’m thoroughly conversant with the technical specifications of every transect-capable—”

  “That would be ‘no,’ ” she observed, her tone pleasant.

  Mudge gave her a stern not helping look.

  Mac ignored it. She recognized Norris’ type. Academia let them flower in high-ceilinged rooms, with coffee machines down the hall. They published like clockwork and judged those around them accordingly. Fieldwork? That was for unproven grad students, who somehow never made it on the final author list.

  Last conference, hip-checked one into an ornamental pond, she remembered fondly. Landed knees up, covered with mud and lily pads.

  With frog.

  “Is the Pasunah one of the derelicts?” she asked, fervently hoping not.

  “You’ll have ample time to discuss Dhryn ships later,” Captain Gillis interposed. “What can you tell me about the Sinzi on my ship?” His eyes locked on Mac.

  She quickly lifted both hands to show they were empty.

  Gillis nodded and shifted his attention. “Arslithissiangee Yip the Fourteenth?”

  “You may call me Fourteen, good captain,” the Myg replied expansively, the forks of his white tongue showing briefly, as if savoring the sound of his full name. “Of course I know a great deal more. Ureif? By reputation. Don’t insult him. Fy? Appalling youth for a post of importance; her selves—transect engineer Faras and student Yt—at their first accommodation. She must possess unusual gifts and/or experience to be so trusted. But Ureif?” His half buried eyes assumed their sly look, the one Mac knew meant he was anticipating their reaction. “You have on board, Captain Gillis, the former Sinzi-ra of Haven—and the Dhryn.”

  There had to be one, she thought numbly. The Sinzi not only maintained the gates, they acted as interspecies’ oil, easing potential frictions, soothing conflicts before they escalated.

  But on Haven? “I was there,” she blurted. “There was no mention of a Sinzi-ra.” She wasn’t sure why she felt betrayed.

  “Idiot,” Fourteen said fondly. “Once the Dhryn had established a colony in another system, they applied to the Sinzi to exclude alien traffic from their home. Other species do the same . . . some to protect their biology, some because they realize their boring homes are not worth visiting and they wish to avoid embarrassment when tourists want their funds returned. Idiots! Never advertise a ‘remarkable dining experience’ when you can’t cook—”

  “Fourteen,” Mac growled.

  His pale lips formed a charming pout. “Always so serious.”

  She’d strangle him later. “Please.”

  “The Dhryn stayed within their systems, with only minor trade outside their territory. One consulate was more than sufficient. The office of Haven’s Sinzi-ra was moved to the Dhryn’s first and ultimately largest colony. A consulate Ureif closed when it became clear the Dhryn had abandoned their worlds for good.”

  Mac’s lips formed the name she couldn’t bring herself to say. Cryssin.

  Brymn’s home.

  “Seems you’re in luck, Dr. Norris,” Townee observed. “Ureif will have firsthand knowledge of your derelicts.”

  Ureif must have known him, Mac thought feverishly. Brymn had been one of the very few Dhryn who regularly traveled to alien worlds; his research had been widely published in Instella. There would have been discussions, arrangements, briefings on alien—on Human—behavior. Brochures.

  She had a brief, dizzying insight into how being with her, the last one to see Brymn before his transformation, might feel to Ureif. Add to that traveling with her to the site of Brymn’s death, in the presence of ships from Haven?

  How could a Sinzi resist?

  Mac allowed herself a moment of smug. It wasn’t all her fault.

  Captain Gillis drummed his fingers lightly on the table, as if encouraging them back on topic. It seemed his habit. “Fourteen. What do you know of Ureif’s selves?”

  “Ulor, Rencho, Eta, Iode, and Filt,” Fourteen listed promptly. “Ulor is the transect engineer. Rencho, consulate administrator and a sculptor of some renown, among Sinzi at least. Eta is a mathematician—not up to my brilliance, of course, but formidable. Iode, the ship engineer, you know. Filt?” Mac wondered if she were the only one to catch the slight hesitation before the Myg concluded, “The one to watch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Captain, you host none other than the newly elected Speaker for the IU Inner Council.”

  If Gillis had wanted to establish a chain of command, he had one now. Judging by the green hue to his cheeks, Mac thought, its links were a little bigger than he’d anticipated.

  Fourteen was doing his utmost to appear bored. Not believing that for an instant, Mac took a cautious sniff. Ah, someone else wasn’t too calm about this “Filt” on board.

  “And you just happen to know all this,” said Townee, trading glances with her captain. “How?”

  “Irrelevant,” Fourteen answered, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Captain,” she continued, ignoring the Myg, “we’re having more than enough security issues. I strongly recommend we wait for confirmation from a more—official—source before we act on any of this.”

  Mudge, beside Mac, rubbed his nose, but stopped short of covering it. “Confirm, of course,” he said, “but, much as it pains me, I must vouch for our
colleague’s ability to find the most obscure or private information in minutes. I wouldn’t delay necessary actions because he’s obnoxious.”

  “Charlie!” Fourteen crowed with laughter and bounced in his chair, arms waving. “ ‘Obnoxious!’ That’s wonderful. As for you—” he snapped his fingers at Townee, a recent accomplishment of which he was very proud, “—and your security?” Snap. “Irrelevant! Irrelevant! I had your ship’s logs and records open within five minutes of boarding. Idiots.” He sat back with a smile that could only be called blissful.

  Really not helping, Mac winced.

  She glanced at the Joy’s most senior officers and saw the stunned, then furious expressions she expected. Even Norris looked alarmed.

  “Don’t worry. He’s with me,” she said, before the uproar could start. Or armed guards arrive to cause an interstellar incident.

  Or Fourteen release any more anxiety into the room.

  “I was hoping not to need this,” she added, almost to herself.

  Mac took a blue-and-green envelope, barred in gold, from her pocket. She flicked it along the polished table.

  Captain Gillis stopped it with a slap of his hand. She watched him stare at the words crawling over the face of the envelope. Her name. Giving her a very strange look indeed, he showed the envelope to Townee before sliding it back.

  Mac put it away, along with any hesitation. “Whatever else you’ve been told about us—about me, Captain—we aren’t subject to Human, or Myg, or even Sinzi authority. All on my team have agreed to work for the Interspecies Union. While Fourteen should have asked before dipping into your files—” she said with a glare at the being in question, who grinned back, thoroughly unrepentant, “—he did nothing outside our mandate. Earthgov and the Ministry have pledged full, unquestioned support of IU efforts to resolve the crisis, have they not?” She waited for and received Gillis’ slow nod. “Those would be our efforts, Captain, among others. As for what that means to you and your ship?”

  Her lips found the smile that gave grad students fits before a test. She hated meetings anyway.

  “Thanks for the lift,” Mac told the commander of the Ministry’s newest dreadnought. “We’ll let you know what else we may need. Now—I’m sure we all have to get back to work.” She stood.

  “Wait! Who do you think you are?” Norris blustered, rising to his feet as well. “You can’t give us orders!” He looked from face to face, as if seeking support. Finding none, he glared at Mac. “You’re just the translator, damn it!”

  “Actually,” Mac replied calmly, “I’m just the salmon researcher. But I’ll do my best. I expect the same from you.”

  Townee appeared to hide a smile behind her hand. Norris hadn’t made any friends, Mac observed without surprise.

  Captain Gillis stood and offered a slight bow. “My apologies for any confusion, Dr. Connor. You will, of course, have our full cooperation.”

  After a thorough check on her claims.

  “Tell the Ministry I’m behaving.” She flashed a grin. “They worry.”

  “I’m beginning to see why,” said Townee.

  With nods to collect Fourteen and Mudge, Mac turned and left the room.

  “Well, Norcoast,” Mudge allowed once the door whooshed closed behind them. “That was impressive.”

  Mac sighed and shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Idiot.”

  “And this would be your fault,” she accused the happy Myg. “I was hoping for a nice, quiet, oh-who-cares-about-Mac, inconspicuous trip, but no.” She poked him in the muscle of his arm with one finger. “Someone had to show off.”

  “Inconspicuous,” he informed her, “is boring.”

  Boring was so much simpler, Mac thought wistfully as they followed their crew escort back to the transit system.

  As well as holds full of gear, Lyle had brought himself, the original twenty-six from Myriam who’d come with him to the Gathering—Human except the five Sthlynii and two Cey—and two Mygs, Fourteen and Unensela (plus the offspring). He’d been flummoxed into adding the three Frow and five Grimnoii.

  Mudge had provided Sam Schrant.

  But even if the Sinzi were her fault, Mac decided, hands on her hips and glaring, she wasn’t responsible for—this.

  “How long has it been going on?” she asked finally.

  Doug Court shrugged. “Since I got here, at least. You’ll have to ask them.”

  “Them” being the Grimnoii, currently on all fours. From what she could see, their backsides tending to vast, they had their faces pressed to the base of the closed door to their—or rather the Sinzi’s—quarters. As many as could. Since only two and a half Grimnoii could successfully press-face at a time, there was a slow-motion struggle underway involving far too much heaving and collision of weapon-based apparel for Mac’s peace of mind.

  “Might not be the best time for a question,” she ventured.

  The individual closest to her toes, and farthest from the desired door crack, chose that moment to burrow his way past the others. His huge padded feet worked frantically against the smooth floor until finding purchase against someone else. He disappeared beneath his fellows.

  There was a great deal of moaning and one heavy thud, but, to Mac’s fascination, he surfaced at the door, promptly plunging his face to the crack.

  While it was all well and good for aliens to be, well, alien, this was the only corridor through the section allotted the Origins Team. Mac traded waves with those stranded on the far side of the scrum, and considered the problem.

  “It’s always about sex,” Unensela offered, coming up beside her. She was dressed in a lab coat, open to let the offspring clinging to her chest see what was going on. They stretched their long necks and echoed, “Sexsexsexsexsex!”

  Someone behind Mac snickered.

  “That’s not how—” Mac thought she’d best forgo the lecture and finished with, “that’s not what they’re doing.”

  “Irrelevant! The most glorious female ever to breathe must be right, Mac!” This from Fourteen as he joined them, while admiring Unensela from head-to-toe and back again. Apparently his present celibacy was of the look, don’t touch, variety. The female Myg preened. “This is not the act,” he continued, “which is highly improbable even for large mammals and must hurt—but its essential precursor. Romance!”

  The Grimnoii happened to groan loudly at that moment. Mac was reasonably sure she smelled fresh vomit.

  Well, they should all be hungover.

  “Ship’s corridors have to be kept clear, folks.” Court backed a step as if to let her know he wasn’t volunteering more than the regulation.

  “Romance,” Mac repeated. “You’re kidding.”

  With a last longing look at Unensela, who stuck out her forked tongue, Fourteen took Mac’s arm and led her a short distance from the mass of struggling fur. “The Grimnoii admire the Sinzi,” he whispered.

  “You don’t mean—” Mac gave the pulsing mass against the door a shocked look. “They aren’t trying to—With the Sinzi!”

  “Idiot. You read too many brochures. Get a mate. The Grimnoii are a passionate, physical species. They suffer from—I believe the Human equivalent is an inferiority complex. A little too much passion. A little too physical. They break things,” Fourteen summed up neatly. “They have come to admire the Sinzi above all other species. Since part of a Grimnoii’s education is to observe the social behavior of accomplished adults, many Grimnoii instead send their unbred males to observe Sinzi.” Fourteen shrugged and gave Mac his sly look. “Like Humans at this stage, they tend to be hopeless romantics.”

  More thudding, accompanied by cheers from the Humans on the other side. At least one Grimnoii had acquired fans.

  “How is this romantic?” She held up her hand. “Wait. Wrong question. What do they accomplish by wallowing at the door?”

  “They demonstrate their admiration for the Sinzi by doing their utmost to capture their scent.” Fourteen smiled widely.
“Stimulating display, isn’t it? I’ve only seen discreet sniffing of footprints—pretend to drop something, quick nose to pavement, that sort of thing. Until now. Well, I’ve heard of attempts to bribe staff for used laundry, but they say that about any species.”

  She wasn’t going to ask who “they” were. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Idiot! They’re quite fixated. And large. Wait, Mac. What could you do?”

  Ignoring the sputtering Myg, Mac searched for and found their chemist on this side of the Grimnoii clot, just leaving the dining area. “Henri! A word please?” she called, walking over to him.

  “Yes, Mac?”

  After she told him what she wanted, his eyes gleamed. “I’ll be right back,” he promised and took off at a near run.

  Court noticed his departure and raised his eyebrows in question. Mac grinned and gestured to him to follow the chemist. “He’ll need your help.”

  “Idiots.” Fourteen had watched all this. “Help with what? They cannot be distracted by tricks. Trust me. I know.”

  Mac merely smiled and went back to where she could see the Grimnoii. She found a convenient bit of wall and leaned on it.

  All five appeared near exhaustion, still except for the occasional deep shuddering breath or hopeful wriggle of a shoulder. Some of the bandoliers had snapped; others were snagged together.

  Reminded her of the fallen Frow, unsure how to sort themselves out.

  The audience was getting bored. Not to mention the air in the corridor was growing reminiscent of The Feisty Weka’s bathroom. The lucky ones on this side could go back to the workrooms or dining area. On the other, the choice was limited, since the Frow had the last two rooms to the left, the Mygs two of the five on the right.

  Mac wondered what the Sinzi thought of the ruckus outside their quarters. Was it a familiar downside of working with Grimnoii—or did they put it down to something Human? Something to ask when she finally talked to them alone.

  Among so much else.

  She hadn’t asked the captain to send her message to Anchen. Considering she’d made one miscalculation with the Sinzi-ra already, it didn’t seem the right time to stick her neck out. Atta girl, she praised herself. Retroactive caution.