If this was a meeting, she had to wonder at the agenda. Several were speaking at once—okay, with grunting and one off-key whistle—and the room’s air was being over-scented with mint to compensate for odors it was never intended to handle.
Mudge tapped the back of her hand. “When did these arrive?” he whispered.
She could wish he was less observant—or had better timing. “Ureif brought them.”
“And? Any news?” His anxious whisper attracted frowns or their equivalent from those nearest. She leaned over and put her lips to his ear. “Not now, Oversight. What’s going on?”
If she’d hoped for reassuring calm, it wasn’t here. The voices and body language of all species in the room showed tension, if not worse.
He returned the favor, ducking and twisting his head. “There’s been an incident reported, Norcoast. The Frow home world, Tersisee.”
Oh, no. Mac looked for, and found, the Frow. Se Lasserbee and his lackeys were backed firmly—and securely—against the far wall. From the grips they’d latched on one another, no one was going to fall alone.
“The Trisulians,” she whispered.
Representatives of that species sat to the left of Sinzi-ra Ureif, bodies and limbs wrapped in red leather, paired eyestalks fixed on the Frow. Their broad, haired, and faceless heads revealed nothing to a Human observer. The weapons slung on their backs gave reasonable indication these weren’t diplomats or scientists. In fact, few here looked obviously academic. Not that she’d any idea what that meant once you left bipedal motion behind.
The purple beadlike tip of the uppermost eyestalk on the nearest Trisulian abruptly swiveled to point at Mac. The lower, being male and blind in this light, remained lidded.
As proof she wasn’t the only one who noticed such things, everyone in the room fell silent and turned to look at Mac.
Moments like this, she thought glumly, were why she really hated meetings.
“Dr. Connor.” Ureif rose, fingers lifting. Fy was at his right. “On behalf of everyone here, as well as the Inner Council of the Interspecies Union, may I express our gratitude for your courage and quick thinking. You have provided us all—” did she imagine “all” was stressed, “—with our first advantage against the Myrokynay, at great risk to yourself. Thank you.”
Mudge elbowed her ribs and Mac shot to her feet. “Any of you would have done the same,” she blurted.
“Not me. I’d have expired on the spot,” rumbled a well-dressed Nerban, waving his proboscis at her, his single eye almost closed.
“Tell her! Tell Dr. Connor!” Se Lasserbee shouted, rocking his trio of support. Sparks flew, and those beings in range of the Frow moved away. From the look on the captain’s face, she wasn’t the only one hoping the ventilation system could keep up with the Nerban’s sweat. The things one had to worry about around aliens. “Tell her!” the Frow shrieked. One clawed hand daringly freed itself to point at the Trisulians. “Confess your evil to our Hero!”
Okay, a completely new reason to hate meetings.
“It is common knowledge,” said the Trisulian who’d looked at Mac, “that Frow are inclined to paranoia, particularly in their dealings with other species. They scream collusion over regular freight runs; now they rant about innocent tourists. We have, Sinzi-ra, matters of nimscent—of future significance—to discuss.”
Tourists? Mac wondered if she’d heard the right word.
“Villains!”
“Dr. Connor,” the Trisulian continued smoothly, her—his, Mac corrected, counting eyestalks—powerful voice overriding the now-incoherent protests of Se Lasserbee. “It has come to our attention you may have news of our liaison with your Ministry, Cinder. We are most anxious to know why her communiqués have stopped prematurely.”
She bet they were. Mac’s hands wanted to curl into fists. She put them behind her back, rubbing her thumb against the rings on her fingers.
“The only matter before us is whether your entire misbegotten species should be sanctioned at the highest level!” Se Lasserbee roared. “The highest level!”
For improper tourism? She knew better than to hope that was all it was.
Since the aliens were again shouting at one another, Mac turned to Mudge, standing beside her. “What happened?” she whispered.
“The Trisulians are accused of planting transmitters on Tersisee. Some disguised as harmless ornaments, others left hidden in tourist areas. When the Frow found them and began destroying them, the remainder activated.” Mac gasped and Mudge shook his head gently. “It’s all right. They were removed in time. But their Sinzi-ra did confirm they were sending the Ro signal—the one that summoned the Dhryn to Sol System. Outside the IU Consulate on Earth, only the Trisulians have that technology.”
Mac stared at the three Trisulians, trying to imagine how they could sit there and protest. These had to have been senior staff from the warship at Haven—perhaps the commander. Surely they would have known about the attempt to eradicate the Frow.
She narrowed her eyes. It was difficult to be sure, given the abundant thick strands of red and gray flowing over their shoulders and chests, but she thought the upper third of their torsos were enlarged, beginning above the opening to their stomach, the douscent.
Pregnant.
More to the point, territorial.
Argument wasn’t going to overrule that state of mind.
She’d seen the mammoth Trisulian ship, sitting like a boulder in the flow to and from the gate. They weren’t alone—every species in this room represented another ship, had another viewpoint. Mac took a step forward and raised her voice one notch above the rest. Helped having spent summers talking over the roar of a river. “Have you compared our Ro walker to the one found on Earth?”
Another pause, this one incredulous. Then, “What did you say?”
She didn’t bother looking for the speaker; she kept her eyes on the Sinzi. “This is the group studying the corpse I brought back, isn’t it? Surely you’ll want to check it against the Ministry’s specimen.” Mac also ignored the strangled harrumph from behind her—she wasn’t planning to explain how she knew. For that matter, she and Mudge could be completely wrong. For now, she had the rest of the room thinking about something else, something that faced them all. Good enough. “Unless of course you’ve started exploring the remaining Dhryn ships,” she went on, taking advantage of their silence, “and found more for yourselves.”
Ureif’s red-coated fingers gleamed as they made a complex knot in front of his chest.
That one meant “difficulty,” Mac judged, and wasn’t surprised. She’d guessed the result of her explorations would be a standstill, with everyone reconsidering the stakes. The newspackets and couriers must be flying through the gate.
Speaking of messages . . . Fourteen should have voiced an opinion by now. She tried to see past those in front of her, searching for him without success.
The Sinzi-ra spoke. “A helpful suggestion, Dr. Connor. We will obtain the required data.”
“With due respect, Sinzi-ra,” this from the Nerban. “We haven’t settled where the examination will be conducted. Given the Humans possess their own specimen, why should they keep this new one?”
A few other suggestions were shouted or grunted. The Sinzi-ra unraveled his fingers and lifted their tips to his shoulders. “This is no longer a Human ship, but a declared consulate of the Interspecies Union. As such, it is the recognized venue for research and discourse that may impact more than one species along the transects. Do you wish to petition the Inner Council for a change to that policy? I will entertain a vote.”
Checkmate, Mac thought with admiration.
The Sinzi-ra’s offer produced, if not a mellower mood, then a more thoughtful one. The Frow, while continuing to glare across the table at the Trisulians—something they did quite effectively, since it involved lowering a shoulder ridge and extending their necks—stopped sparking. The Trisulians, for their part, oriented their eyestalks on Ureif, as if setting them
selves apart from the rest of the room.
Mac was grateful for eyes that weren’t so blatantly obvious.
The discussion resumed, this time about establishing an agenda to continue various aspects of the business at hand. Mac and Mudge sat down again.
A harrumph. She glanced at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Mac frowned. She knew that tone. It was the one Mudge used to make her think she’d won an argument, when she hadn’t come close. “Someone had to say something.”
“And you did, Norcoast.”
Same tone.
“If you’re wrong about the Ministry, it doesn’t matter. If you’re right?” She shrugged. “What’s the worst Hollans can do?”
“Before we get back to Earth, or after?”
“After,” Mac leaned back with a shrug, “I don’t plan to care.”
18
BOTHER AND BIOLOGY
THERE WAS ONLY ONE thing worse than a meeting where she was on the spot, Mac decided, stifling a yawn. A meeting where she wasn’t. The discussion had droned on for over an hour now and showed no signs of ending. Good thing the corpse was in stasis.
“Stop fidgeting, Norcoast.”
“I’m not—” she began to protest, when the door opened.
It was Fourteen. He waved an urgent summons but not, to Mac’s astonishment, to her. Instead, Fy bowed graciously and left her place with Ureif without a word of explanation, walking past everyone to join the Myg.
Trundling in her wake, Fy-Alpha nearly knocked over the poor Frow.
The discussion continued without pause, the Cey delegation holding forth on the need for more derelicts to be brought to Myriam so everyone could explore their own and was there going to be lunch?
No one was looking. Seeing her opportunity, Mac grabbed Mudge’s wrist and pulled him to follow the Grimnoii out the door, keeping them both low in case Captain Gillis spotted the escape of his fellow Humans and tried to interfere. He’d begun to glaze over, too.
Once the door closed between them and the meeting, Mac let out a whoof of relief.
Mudge shook off her grip and straightened with a glower. “Do you even know what dignity means, Norcoast?”
“If it means being stuck there when I could be working, I’m not interested.”
Fourteen and Fy were deep in conversation, walking rapidly down another corridor, Fy-Alpha in tow. “What’s that all about?” Mac wondered.
“With him, it could be anything.” At her look, he relented. “The Sinzi-ra requested his help earlier. I presume something to do with the message traffic. They’re headed to the bridge,” he nodded after them.
“While we’re going back to Origins.” Mac started walking to the tube door. “I want to check on our guest.”
“Surely you should be packing, Norcoast.” Mudge hurried to keep up.
“Why?”
“The drop to Myriam.”
Mac snorted. “I’m a little busy right now to help you get ready, Oversight. Get Sam.”
“I don’t think you understand. You’re coming, too. You need to pack.”
She stopped in the middle of the corridor to stare at him.
Mudge backed up a step. “Now, Norcoast, surely you expected it. Only military personnel will be boarding a derelict until any and all risk has been removed. Sinzi-ra Ureif and the captain were quite sensible about that. Quite firm, in fact. No one disagreed. Civilians—including you—won’t be put in danger. Losing Dr. Norris . . .” He tsked sorrowfully. “Too high a price to discover the Ro have been with the Dhryn all along.”
“That’s what you think?” She gestured at the closed meeting room door. “What they think? That the walker came with the Dhryn?”
“What else?”
That she’d brought it with her? Facing Mudge’s puzzled look, Mac couldn’t bring herself to say it. He’d think she was certifiable, and everyone would agree.
Besides, she chided herself, why would a walker hide all this time on the Joy and then sneak a ride to a dead Dhryn ship?
To follow her? Despite Fy’s belief that Mac was “a nexus of interest,” for the Ro, Mac couldn’t see what the aliens would gain from a trip to the Uosanah. They had to realize she’d bring back any findings. Why risk discovery in the tiny space of the lev?
If the walker had been on board with them, it would have had to dodge around Norris like a dancer. Or clung to the ceiling.
Mac shuddered.
“Norcoast?” Mudge’s puzzlement turned to concern. “You’re safe now. A terrible ordeal. Terrible. But a good night’s sleep . . . you’ll be fine.” Having come to his own conclusions about her hesitation—and how to deal with it, Mac smiled to herself—Mudge scowled ferociously. “Norris had no right taking you on that ship. None!”
“I don’t need to board the Uosanah again, or any other ship,” she assured him. “We have her captain. Once he regains consciousness, we can ask him what happened to them.”
Mudge shook his head. “Conscious? I thought he was dead already. He certainly looked dead,” he modified.
“He does that,” Mac nodded. “And he probably won’t last the night, which is why I can’t leave. If he wakes, I may be the only one he’ll answer.” She smiled. “Besides, Oversight, I have my own quarters, with a nice new bed I haven’t used yet.”
Harrumph. “In that case, I’m staying, too.” He wagged his forefinger under her nose. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, Norcoast.” His lower lip developed a slight quiver. “I should have been with you—”
She put her finger to his, stopping its movement. “I wish you had.” She dropped her hand. “On the bright side—” before either of them grew more emotional, “—there should be a record of Norris allowing Base to have the schematics for his ship. Full surround imaging, Oversight. Except for the seats,” she added.
His eyes popped open, concern forgotten. “You saw the exterior of the Joy?” With awe. “What was she like?”
“Big,” Mac offered, pointing to the tube door. “Reminded me of coral.”
“The wonders of technology are wasted on you, Norcoast,” he muttered. “Simply wasted.”
“Origins, please,” she told the crew waiting by the controls. “What more do you want, Oversight?” she asked him as they settled inside the bolus. “You’ve been on the bridge—how many times?”
“It’s not the same,” he said with unusual petulance.
The bolus sucked them against its walls and bounced into the stream.
Mac gradually relaxed.
It wasn’t the same, she echoed to herself.
She’d been rattled, that was all. Not the first time. At Base, late at night, she’d wake to that sound, paralyzed with fear until she found its source. Dried reeds in her garden. Sleet against the walls. A disoriented bat. There’d been a crab . . .
“Norcoast.”
She focused on him. “Yes?”
“Your new rings.”
Mae sighed. “They’ve made contact. It’s a waiting game now.” She didn’t bother with the rest.
“That much success. Good.” But he frowned.
She knew that look. “What?”
“You say this is secure. But I’m concerned how the Trisulians would know to ask you about Cinder.”
Mac would have shrugged, but her shoulders were stuck fast. “They asked,” she disagreed. “Nothing says they knew. Their culture thrives on secrets, layers of them. Who knows what . . . who has information to trade for influence. It wouldn’t surprise me if they presume we’re all like they are and act accordingly.” Hairy spies, she thought. Disguises would be a snap.
“But you do have information they’d want.”
She sent him a cautioning look, although presumably any eavesdroppers here would have faces. “I wouldn’t call it ‘information,’ Oversight.”
He might have persisted, but the bolus snapped to a stop. The door opened almost immediately and Elane greeted them with smile. “Good meeting, Mac?”
>
“As always,” she answered, pulling free of the walls. Mudge did the same, and they staggered their way out together.
Mac could almost feel Mudge fussing as they walked into the Origins section. Never a good sign. “What now?” she asked once they were alone.
“You should eat something.”
“Sleep. Eat. You’re worse than my dad.” Mac’s stomach gurgled and she threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll eat.”
He ducked his head so she only saw the corner of his smile.
Which meant he didn’t see hers.
“You call that eating? Bah.”
“I call it efficient.” Mac sipped through the straw, trying in vain to identify the taste of the warm, thick liquid. She waved her tall cup at him enticingly. “You could have had one, Oversight.” The ship’s version of e-rations had turned out to be a soup, packed with nutrients and sealed into a container suited for zero-g. Perfect for the biologist on the move, she thought, taking another sip. “I should take some of these home.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Mudge bit into his carrot—or facsimile—then continued working his way through the mass of salad on his plate. “I prefer to recognize what goes into my body, thank you very much. And you,” he jabbed his loaded fork at her hovering ’screen, “should learn to relax.”
Mac blinked. “I’m relaxing.” They were sitting in the empty dining room, and had been for some time. She’d only opened her ’screen to check for new messages, been scrolling haphazardly through the list. Nothing from Emily. She’d marked Kammie’s for later reading. “What makes you think I’m not?”
Mudge shook his head again. “Never mind.”
“I can do small talk,” she offered, giving him a wicked grin.
He held up his hands. “Save me. What’s come in?”
Mac set her list between them, two-sided so Mudge could read it at the same time. “I’d expected something from the Ministry by now,” she complained.
He leaned so she could see his frown past the display. “Why?”
“Hollans should realize I’d want to see their results.”
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