Regeneration (Czerneda)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Fy and Ureif stayed with Mac, as if they wouldn’t move until she did. Mudge waited, too. Muttering under her breath, with a last look back at the Frow—who had made it to the cling-to-handrail stage and were regarding the floor—she went to Nik.

  He had the door unlocked, but motioned them all to wait. “I’m going to scout ahead,” he explained, slipping through the opening.

  He moved like a predator, she thought.

  He paused before closing the door behind him to take one last look at her, his eyes full of everything they didn’t need to say to one another. That distraction could get them killed, she realized with a chill, finally comprehending Nik’s dread of loving her.

  Biology always wins, she reminded herself. Her spy might be distracted, but she could—almost—pity anything that threatened her.

  Her Glory sat abruptly, supporting herself on upper and lowermost legs, the middle two—that had supported her bulk in movement—tucked up. “I am hungry, Lamisah.”

  Mac rested her hand on the Dhryn’s upper shoulder. “I know,” she said gently. “How long—?” Can you survive was the part she didn’t say. They couldn’t feed her now. Later was past a gulf Mac couldn’t imagine.

  The golden eyes held boundless warmth. “If you can endure my complaints, Lamisah, I believe I can endure my hunger quite a while.”

  Mac snuck a peek at the Frow. They’d made it to cluster in the first doorway, feet splayed and holding onto one another. Se Lasserbee, ever alert, saluted, the movement almost knocking them down.

  The door opened and Nik stepped through, keeping his hand on the doorframe. One look at his grim-set face and Mac’s heart lurched. “They’ve been,” he said without preamble. “No way to know how long we have. Let’s go.” His hand lifted to beckon them forward; Mac stared at the bloody print it left on the wall. His eyes followed hers.

  “Watch your step,” he added.

  Mac learned a great deal about herself over the next few minutes. She could put her foot into a pool of blood without hesitation. There was no floor free of it. She could step over body parts, black, red, or glistening with slime. None were identifiable. And she could think about survival. The body looked after itself.

  Emily’s room had been nothing like this.

  The corridor beyond the door was a slaughterhouse. The violence of the walkers had left nothing remotely recognizable. Perversely, their corpses—for the crew hadn’t died alone—were intact, obstacles to pass.

  She learned a great deal about Nik and Mudge as well. The former led, weapon out, muscles taut and body poised for action, using himself to test the way. Mudge had methodically checked every pile of intestine and bone until finding a weapon of his own. Now, he followed behind, a solid comfort.

  The aliens were silent, except for the mutters of distress from the Dhryn, whose body was too wide to avoid brushing against the walkers. The Sinzi’s gowns soaked up blood and became streaked with slime and ash. They walked with Mac, a finger each on her shoulder as if needing to be sure they remained together.

  Once they made it this far, the Frow fared better, their claws finding ready holds. Was it easier for them? Mac wondered numbly. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d walked on the bodies of dead and dying salmon, more intent on her footing than the savage toll. But they’d left eggs behind. They’d found a way for their kind to survive.

  Unlike the Annapolis Joy, gutted from the inside.

  The consular area was no better. Nik paused beside the com station to let them catch up. She didn’t look into the door. “Not far to the hangar now,” he said. There were deep, harsh lines beside his mouth, but his voice was steady. You could take strength from it. “Ship’s systems are still functioning—I could call for backup. They won’t know anyone’s alive here.”

  Mudge harrumphed. “If there isn’t anyone else alive, you’d reveal our location for nothing. I say keep going.”

  “And if there is,” Mac said, surprising herself, “they’ll live longer with us gone.”

  The low drone of ship’s alarm suddenly stopped, leaving a dizzy emptiness behind. The lights flared, then died to a flicker lower than night mode. Runnels of slime continued to fluoresce for brief seconds, marking the ceiling and walls as well as the dead.

  As Mac’s eyes adjusted, she realized the soft glow from the Dhryn’s torso now pooled around them all. Just beyond, in the shadows, random sparks marked each Frow. Useful adaptations, she thought, unable to stop herself from trying to understand, even in a universe falling apart.

  “Magnificent,” exclaimed Fy. Her fingers lifted toward the Dhryn. “Mac, have you seen anything to compare?”

  “Humans cannot see as we do,” Ureif said.

  Fy’s “Oh,” was accompanied with a look to Mac. “My apologies.”

  “We can discuss eyes later,” Mac suggested. That word again.

  “Ready?” Nik didn’t wait for an answer, but led the way into the dark.

  Mac supposed it was too much to hope that darkness would matter to whatever eyes the Ro walkers used.

  The Dhryn’s glow, however faint, proved a mixed blessing. While it helped Mac plan her next step—and made it possible to ignore the rest of the corridor—she felt as if she traveled inside a spotlight. Nik, Mudge, and the Frow stayed well out of it, likely for that reason.

  The entry to the hangar was damaged, as if forced from the outside. Explaining why the ceiling had been intact. Nik went ahead to scout.

  Mudge came up to Mac. “How are you managing, Norcoast?”

  “Better,” she said honestly. “I guess you can get used to anything.”

  What little she could see of his expression looked aggrieved, as if she’d presented an application to hang laundry from his precious trees. “He shouldn’t have involved you in all this. I’ve said it before.”

  “Nik?” Mac found herself smiling. “Come on, Oversight. Surely I get some of the credit.” Then she lost her smile. “I’m just sorry I—”

  A harrumph. “None of that. I knew what was ahead. Better than you did.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” she replied.

  Nik returned. “I heard something,” he said quietly. “Could have been broken equipment giving way. Could have been them.”

  “Guide us, Vessel.” Her Glory reared to tower over them all, incidentally lighting some things Mac didn’t want to see. “I long to destroy more.”

  A gleam of teeth. “You may have your chance,” Nik said. “But let’s try to do this tight and secure, all right? Sinzi-ra, I want you to lead. You’ll need to get your dart open and running. Don’t look back or hesitate, no matter what happens.”

  “We honor the promise,” Ureif said solemnly. Mac thought Fy looked a great deal less certain.

  They started moving, but when Mac would have gone through the door in turn, Nik pulled her against him and found her mouth with quick bruising force. Mac licked her lips, tasting blood. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her hands trembling against his shoulders.

  He’d kissed her like that once before.

  It had been good-bye.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “No,” this time louder. Her hands formed into fists and pounded his shoulders.

  Nik caught her right fist in his hands and opened it, pressing a ring inside. “Made it while you slept,” he said in that matter-of-fact tone she hated. “In case.”

  “No.”

  “We have our jobs to do, Mackenzie Connor. Go. Save your fish.” That dimple. “And the rest of the planet, if you don’t mind.”

  “How?” Her voice cracked.

  “You’ll think of something.” He backed away. “Time to leave.”

  Mac could have closed the distance with a step. Could hold him. Could beg. Instead, with a bone-deep shudder, she nodded.

  “Where on that scale . . .”

  The hangar was better illuminated than the corridor, by virtue of emergency lighting tracing the paths to the launch bay. At first, Mac thought the place untouched, then
she saw the bodies clustered around two areas, a dark gaping hole in the side of the hangar—the source of the walkers?—and the examination tent. The tent had collapsed, hiding whatever lay inside. Small mercies, she thought as they passed it, not wanting to see what remained of the busy scientists.

  The dart was closest to the launch bay. Fy’s request? Mac thought, aware of the irony. Easy to spot among the squared shapes of the Joy’s shuttles—a slim bit of silver and black, its design like the curved tip of a Sinzi finger, its surface etched with intricate designs.

  They hurried together across the floor, a desperate drum of footsteps in the silence. Almost together, Mac corrected, glancing up to see the Frow scuttling a parallel course underneath the meshed walkway overhead. The Sinzi arrived at the dart first, as planned. Fy placed her fingertips into six places on the lower surface. Seams widened within the design, pulled away from the dart’s side to become a graceful stair that lowered itself to the hangar floor without a sound.

  Spit! Pop!

  From in front—and above!

  “Hurry!”

  She didn’t know who shouted, or if they all did. Everyone moved. Fastest of all were the Frow, who dropped down on the dart, their claws moving faster than her eyes could follow. For the first time, she saw they had weapons. One fired toward the end of the dart, and a heaving mass of darkness slid down its far side.

  Scurry, scurry . . .

  Se Lasserbee shouted something incomprehensible, pointed aft. The other lackey tried to fire, then split along ne’s middle, dark red splashing over the dart.

  As the Frow fought, the Sinzi urged the Dhryn inside, despite her loud and vocal protests. Backs to the little ship, Nik and Mudge were firing at seeming random. With success—shapes formed and died.

  Spit! Pop!

  A hat drifted down beside her. Mac reached for it in horror.

  “Get inside!” Nik shouted. “Move!”

  Startled back to sanity, she ran up the stairs and began to go in, then stopped, having almost run into Her Glory’s anguished face. “I can’t move back, Lamisah,” the Dhryn cried. “It’s too small inside.”

  Mudge had known the specs, Mac thought numbly.

  Nik had kissed her good-bye.

  She fought to see past the bulk of the Dhryn. The dart was meant for a pilot and one passenger—both Sinzi. Now, Her Glory took up most of the floor and one of the forward seats. There might be space in front of her for one small, folded Human-sized body. That didn’t take into account providing air.

  Mac whirled to find herself facing Ureif and Fy. “There must be another ship—”

  “Only this one can travel the transect and take you home, Mac,” Ureif said calmly. “We participate in the promise.” He touched fingertips with Fy, making a shivering motion that sent several rings cascading from his fingers to hers. “Fy will ensure you travel safely, and that all know what has transpired.”

  Fy was silent and trembling, but she slipped past Mac to enter the dart, climbing over Her Glory’s back. Ureif then touched his fingertips to Mac’s cheek. “I, who once failed the Dhryn, now find circularity. Thank you.”

  Stunned, Mac watched Ureif go back down the stairs, for the first time showing the astonishing speed of his kind. He wrapped three long fingers around Nik’s shoulders and pulled him toward the stairs. “You must honor your promise as well,” the Sinzi insisted. “You must go home.”

  Nik’s eyes were wild. “No! No!” But before he could struggle free, Mudge calmly stepped up, took careful aim with the butt of his weapon, and struck Nik’s head with a short, quick blow.

  Scurry, scurry . . .

  Spit! Pop! Skitter!

  Hearing walkers from all sides now, Mac ran down the stairs, Fy behind her. Mudge and the Sinzi were already dragging Nik to them. “Take him,” Ureif ordered.

  “We can all go!” Mac cried as she took Nik’s arm and felt Fy take the other. They hurriedly backed up the stairs, pulling the half-unconscious man. “Oversight! Come on!”

  Mudge smiled at her.

  Then he turned, raised his weapon, and resumed firing into the emptiness of the hangar.

  It was like swimming in a nightmare, feeling the current pulling her down, feeling the drag on her legs, the loss of light as she sank.

  “Oversight?”

  Even as her mouth shaped his name, Ureif activated the stair controls from outside. Fy tugged at Nik; Mac roused to help. Somehow they squeezed themselves inside, Her Glory helping as best she could.

  Mac caught a last glimpse through the closing door.

  She saw Ureif fall, fingers still outstretched as though to deny the walkers with his dying flesh.

  She saw a small, fussy man be a hero.

  Then the door snapped closed.

  23

  ESCAPE AND ENCOUNTER

  MAC HELD NIK, HER GLORY held them both, and Fy—somehow Fy climbed over her alien cargo to reach the controls.

  Could the Ro still stop them?

  Was Oversight watching them leave him behind or was he already dead?

  Mac pressed her face into Nik’s hair. He groaned and tried to move. “Don’t,” she said huskily. “You’ll kick Her Glory.”

  He stilled. “Who?” Just the word.

  She knew what he meant.

  “Fy’s here. She’s flying the dart.”

  “How did . . . ?”

  Mac lightly kissed the side of his head. “Hopefully you aren’t concussed. Oversight—” she took a breath, “—he seemed to know what he was doing.” Odd skill for a man prone to memos.

  “We are in the launch bay,” Fy announced. “They have not attempted to stop us.”

  “Yet,” rumbled the Dhryn. Mac could feel her voice against her side and through the deck. Not that she had much feeling left in her legs or rump. Her spy had significant weight.

  Better to think about that.

  “I hunger, my lamisah.”

  And there was the distraction of a starving Progenitor.

  Unlike Norris’ modified lev, the dart was silent, vibration-free except for its passengers. “Launching now,” Fy announced.

  Mac closed her eyes.

  When she was still breathing a moment later, she opened them again. “Are we okay?”

  “Seems that way,” Nik whispered. Louder: “Sinzi-ra, we should learn what we can of the situation before leaving Myriam for Earth. Can you tell if the Ro are attacking other ships? The planet?”

  Mac shifted in alarm. Nik’s hand found her thigh and squeezed it gently. “I doubt they’ve gone after anything but the Dhryn.”

  “All Dhryn?” This from Her Glory. “We must stop them!”

  “That’s the plan,” he said, his tone leaving no doubt of the outcome.

  Making doubt her job, Mac realized.

  “There are transmissions,” Fy announced. “Garbled, confused. They do not follow emergency protocols.” She sounded faintly offended.

  As Mudge would be. Mac pressed her cheek against Nik’s head, careful to avoid where he’d been struck. Her eyes were dry; the way they’d get late at night after trying to read too many reports.

  “Keep at it. Any information would help.”

  “Distress calls. Human. I think for the Annapolis Joy, not because of other attacks. Newspackets—heading into the Naralax. None arriving.”

  “We can’t worry about the rest of the IU,” he pointed out, remarkably sensible, Mac thought, for someone currently crushed between an overhead bin, a woman, and a Dhryn. “What about the other Progenitor? Can you reach Cavendish?”

  “Tucker Cavendish?” Mac whispered. She remembered the Ministry agent she’d first met on the way station. A lifetime ago. Tough, ex-military, face covered with implants. A survivor.

  “Yes.”

  “Lamisah. My Vessel. I require the other Progenitor. You must negotiate with Her Vessel.” A muscular shudder passed through the Dhryn’s body.

  And tried to pass through hers. Mac squirmed for breathing room, Nik trying to hel
p. “You must stay calm,” she urged. “Don’t move.”

  Very faintly, in Dhryn. “Must I die, Lamisah?”

  Mac stared into the eye near her head, saw her face in its large, figure-eight pupil. The eye of a being who’d commanded a starship and knew the Interspecies Union, she reminded herself, wary of underestimating Her Glory. “I don’t know,” she replied in the same language. “The not-Dhryn have reason to fear your kind.”

  A vibration through her flesh. “Sinzi-ra Ureif told me. Our Great Journey has been perverted by the Ro; That Which Is Dhryn used as a terrible weapon, aimed by their will. If we are freed from the Ro, Lamisah, will we still be feared?”

  There was no time left for lies. “Yes. As long as That Which Is Dhryn is capable of consuming the lives of others, you will be feared.”

  “Mac,” asked Nik quietly. “What’s going on?”

  The Dhryn switched to Instella. “My apologies, Vessel. I seek to understand how I, who was Wasted and doomed, can have value to That Which Is Dhryn. The Sinzi-ra spoke of circularity, of my being the future. My Vessel speaks of the fear of not-Dhryn, a fear which may demand our extinction. I require the wisdom of your Progenitor. I must know which of these paths to follow.”

  Instead of answering, Nik spoke to Fy. “Sinzi-ra. Have you raised Cavendish?”

  “There is a difficulty.”

  Mac felt him tense. “Explain.”

  “The belief spreads that the Progenitor’s ship brought the Ro. Several warships are moving to open vectors. Cavendish is broadcasting a denial, but his signal clearly comes from a Human source, causing further misunderstanding.” Mac could hear the rings on Fy’s fingers, as if the Sinzi made a gesture of exasperation. “I continue to signal the truth, that the Ro seek to prevent our truce with the Dhryn, but I fear there is more reflex than reason at work around us.”

  “How close are we to the Progenitor?”

  “We have already passed beyond her ship. The gate is ahead.”

  The Dhryn rumbled distress.

  “Turn around,” Mac urged. “Take us back.”

  “We cannot remain here, Mac. The promise—”