Regeneration (Czerneda)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Nik was shaking his head. “Blunt. I fear accurate.” He touched the thick metal wall. “The ship will only last as long as there’s crew.”

  Fy zipped around the two Humans, stopping in front of Nik. “I could examine the control systems,” she said quickly, her fingers writhing. Hopefully this was the excited anticipation of a scholar hoping to be set loose on the real thing, though Mac didn’t rule out a nervous twitch. “I would be willing—”

  “We may need your help, Sinzi-ra,” Nik assured her. “First, we need to check on the situation outside the ship. Anything new?”

  Mac watched the two Dhryn, the old and the new. They’d stopped in the open, just beyond the arch. Deruym Ma Nas bowed to Her Glory and moved out of sight. Her Glory sat on the cushioned floor, her ridged back toward Mac, and began to rock from side to side.

  What was she doing? Mac walked closer, curious.

  Suddenly, a mass of tentacles appeared in one of the holes around the door, then three feeders dropped to where Her Glory sat, helpless and oblivious.

  Mac let out a cry and broke into a run, not that she had any idea what she could do.

  “Mac! Wait!”

  She slowed, not because of Nik’s shout, but because the feeders had continued to drift downward until they rested on the floor before the Dhryn. Mac moved to the right-hand wall and edged forward to a good vantage point.

  “You have the worst bloody reflexes—”

  “Shhh.” Mac grinned at Nik’s fervent complaint as he hurried up beside her. “Look.”

  The feeders were not attacking Her Glory. Far from it. Instead, their tentacles were delicately exploring her face and chest. “I think they’re after the liquid from the Progenitor,” Mac whispered. The mouths at the ends of the tentacles stayed in no one place for long.

  She noticed something else. Their clear bodies never stopped pulsating, but now each pulse spread a faint tinge of violet.

  “They’ve friends,” Nik cautioned as another pair joined the first three.

  Fy’s finger rested on Mac’s shoulder. “Is this something to fear?”

  Yes! Mac quelled the impulse and settled for a tight-lipped, “I don’t know.”

  Her Glory had excellent hearing. “These are mine now, Lamisah. They will seek the Taste that I require. Which would,” she added with the hint of a hoot, “include walnuts.”

  The violet was accumulating along the outer rim of each membrane; more drew a faint band across the ventral surface. Perhaps coloration unique to each Progenitor, Mac guessed.

  Nik pressed his lips to her ear. She felt more than heard the words. “And us?”

  He had his weapon out and ready. He’d seen what a feeder could do to Human flesh. She put her hand—the new one—over his, pressing it down. “Cayhill’s work. Her Glory is herbivorous. Plants, Nik. We should be okay.”

  He resisted. “ ‘Should be’ isn’t good enough, Mac.”

  “There’s only one way to know.” She steeled herself to walk out there, but Nik beat her to it, heading for the Dhryn and her ghastly company.

  “No. Wait!” She rushed after him, only to find Fy coming with her. “Oh, no. Not you,” she declared, trying to grab some part of moving Sinzi. It was remarkably difficult. Mac wound up with an undignified handful of gown, said gown dragging her forward with it anyway.

  Fortunately, the feeders scattered out of the way like jellyfish, their bodies bloating, membranes fluttering almost frantically. Her Glory hooted, her sides shaking. “You should see yourselves, Lamisah!”

  Mac kept her eye on the feeders, now squeezing themselves back through the holes above the door. When the last tentacle disappeared from view, she looked back at the Dhryn. “I take it they were finished?”

  Her Glory rose to her feet—Her feet, Mac corrected to herself, quite sure by this point the honorific was required. Although she’d like to know more about the whole oomling production side of things. “They will come with me. As will my erumisah.” She gestured grandly and Deruym Ma Nas scuttled back from where he’d been staying at a safe distance.

  Someone not quite so sure, Mac thought.

  “Come with you—where?” asked Nik.

  “With you, of course. Deruym Ma Nas is right in one thing. I will need help. Your help. The help of the Interspecies Union.”

  Fy’s fingers formed their complex knot. Distress or confusion. Mac sympathized “To do what?” the Sinzi inquired politely.

  A one/two blink of warm golden eyes. “We shall destroy the Ro together. Then I shall restore That Which Is Dhryn to what we once were.” Her Glory beamed at Mac. “Mac promised to help.”

  The Sinzi appeared paralyzed, then her head tilted, as if to let one set of eyes after the other study Mac’s carefully noncommittal face.

  Suddenly, her fingers shot upward, before gracefully lowering into circles through which she gazed at Mac. “I, Faras, participate in the promise! And I, Yt!”

  Nik put one hand over his eyes and shook his head.

  This, Mac told herself, wasn’t her fault.

  “I didn’t promise,” Mac insisted. “At least, I didn’t promise what Her Glory thinks I did.”

  Nik raised one eyebrow. “Dare I ask?”

  “It was more a ‘that way to the washroom, I’ll be here if you need me’ kind of promise.”

  “That’s not how She’s interpreted it.”

  Mac slumped against the side of the dart. “I noticed.”

  “It could be worse,” he said lightly, busy with his imp. It was preset to squeal its contents to a Ministry receiver when entering no-space. Something they were to do very soon, judging by the sensor data, so Nik was recording as much information as he could.

  Other ships were on the move behind them; they wouldn’t catch up. Starting position was everything in real-space travel. The only good news so far? The Imrya had caught signals from the Annapolis Joy. No specifics, not on unsecured channels, but Mac was willing to settle for knowing someone was alive. For now.

  “Worse how?” Mac grumbled. “Fy wants in on it. Whatever it is.”

  “Worse if you’d promised the Progenitor.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her head to stare at her feet. Mistake. The bottoms of her pants and boots were covered in dried blood and slime. She looked up again, breathing through her nose. Mistake.

  The feeders had followed them to the vast hangar, rising to disappear into its darkness, only to reappear clothed as small silver ships. All five were now lined up between the Impeci and the Sinzi dart. Waiting, they’d been assured by Her Glory, for Her to enter Her chosen transport. At which point, they’d latch on to its hull and accompany Her.

  Wherever She went.

  Seeing the round doors on the lower half of the small things, Mac guessed where tentacles would protrude, allowing the feeders to digest their target, then suck up the result without leaving their casings.

  “What are we going to do about them?” she nodded at the silent row.

  This gained her a quick look.

  A grim one. She straightened. “Nik? What did you do?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve prepared an option.”

  Her Glory was napping by the feeders, conserving Her strength. She’d stopped complaining about being hungry. Not necessarily a good sign. Deruym Na Mas sat nearby, nervously checking his imps, nervously checking his surroundings. He was having some difficulty imagining they were to travel outside the Progenitor’s ship.

  It didn’t help that he’d believed the Progenitor’s ship was still part of Haven.

  Fy was inspecting the Impeci, wearing a Sinzi evacsuit from the dart. Meanwhile, those from the Impeci—the Imrya and Fiora, the pilot, Bhar, and Cavendish—remained inside her craft. It kept them away from the newest members of—what were they anyway? Mac wondered. A merry band of adventurers? Or the walking dead, too stubborn to lay down?

  Not something Nik would do. She knew that about him. She didn’t ask about his “option,” trusting it would save them if the feeders
couldn’t find sufficient walnuts.

  Wherever they went.

  “Humans?”

  It was the Imrya. Mac and Nik rose to their feet as she approached. “Cavendish,” he said.

  “Yes. He has expired.” The alien lifted her recorder, then let it hang from its strap. “I find myself too full of words, Nikolai. A noble being.”

  Nik merely nodded. With an effort Mac could see, if no one else could, he fought back any reaction, focusing on the task at hand. “Let’s get him on the Impeci. I want us all in place before transect. We don’t know what’s on the other side, or even if this ship will hold together.” He went with the Imrya, the thorough professional.

  Mac stayed where she was.

  One less.

  She felt ill. If they had to evacuate the Progenitor’s ship, Cavendish, terminal and fading, had improved their chances by dying now. You could never escape the math. There had been too many of them for the dart.

  There still were.

  She leaned her head back against the swirled metal. They had the poisoned Impeci. The Dhryn could tolerate the radiation inside the Human ship. That wasn’t the problem. Her Glory couldn’t pilot it, not with only one hand.

  Bhar, the Impeci’s pilot, was slipping in and out of consciousness. Fy was needed to pilot the Sinzi dart. And Fiora knew as much as Mac about flying a starship. Which was nothing.

  Leaving Nik, who knew too much.

  He’d wear an evacsuit. Giving him a few hours of protection.

  If that. He’d been exposed already.

  “I hate this plan, Em,” Mac muttered.

  Sacrifice the Dhryn? For all they knew, Dhryn might be the only way to kill the Ro.

  Sacrificing Nikolai Trojanowski? Part of the job.

  “I hate the job, too,” she said clearly and with emphasis.

  “Why are you talking to the air? Does this serve a purpose?” Deruym Ma Nas shuffled closer. “What is that?” This last as Nik walked by them, his eyes straight ahead, carrying the wrapped form of Tucker Cavendish.

  “Nie rugorath sa nie a nai.” Mac switched to Instella. “A Human, Tucker Cavendish. Remember his name, Archivist.”

  “I will.” He sat beside her. “I fear I will have more names to remember, Mackenzie Winifred Elizabeth Wright Connor Sol, than there are living Dhryn.”

  She looked at him. “What you do is important, Deruym Ma Nas. Remember that too.”

  “It is my value to That Which Is Dhryn,” he agreed, then sighed. Mac felt a vibration of distress through the floor. “Is it true? Will the not-Dhryn help us? The Successor is certain. But I have doubts.”

  “You’re her erumisah,” she said carefully. “Doubt’s part of your duty, isn’t it?”

  “To an extent.” A small hoot. “I confess I lose my reasoned arguments within Her Light.”

  “Write them down,” she suggested.

  . . . Mac felt a vibration of distress through the floor. “Is it true? Will the not-Dhryn help us? The Successor is certain. But I have doubts.”

  “You’re her—” she stopped there, understanding what had happened.

  They’d gone through the gate.

  The Dhryn looked confused. “Why do we repeat ourselves?”

  “I’ll explain later. Stay with Her Glory.”

  Mac started walking toward the Impeci. Nik was already coming back. From his intent expression, he’d felt it, too.

  A shout from behind—Fiora, from the open door of the dart. “It’s Earth! They’ve taken us home! We’re saved!”

  Mac didn’t need to see the horror on Nik’s face to know.

  They weren’t saved at all.

  CONTACT

  THE SINZI SHIPS HAD BEEN MOVING into position for days. Earthgov had maintained a politely interested view of these proceedings, there being little else to be done. Earth media, having more options, had launched sufficient remote probes to constitute a significant navigation threat to normal traffic, which was rerouted to other orbits.

  However much a nuisance, it was the media who first realized what the Sinzi ships were doing. They were arranging themselves into an immense spiral, the narrow end pointing toward the Earth, the wider toward her Sun. The effect was dazzling, when the Moon didn’t eclipse it, and the image became commonplace in homes across the system, complete with identifying logos and associated advertising.

  Until problems with newspackets and other shipments made the headlines. The curious artistry of the Sinzi slipped from Human attention.

  The arrival of the Trisulian fleet, with its threats, soon consumed it. But not, it seemed, the Sinzi, who refused to discuss the matter.

  And so matters stood.

  Until matters changed.

  Hollans rose to his feet. “Say again.”

  “It’s gone, sir.”

  “The Naralax Transect,” he repeated, wondering what could be affecting the usually exemplary staff of Venus Orbital. Some Trisulian gas? “You’re telling me it’s gone.”

  “Yes, sir. The approach horizon, the gate—they don’t register. It’s gone, sir. Pending traffic’s sitting in normal space. Yelling for answers.”

  “Let’s get confirmation on that, Venus Orbital.”

  The voice on the com became somewhat shrill. “You don’t think we’d call about something like this without making sure we weren’t nuts? Sir.” More calmly. “We’ve confirmation from all possible observation points. It’s gone.”

  A slender fingertip rose before Hollans’ eyes, claiming his attention. “I’ll get back to you, Venus Orbital,” he muttered, staring up at the Sinzi-ra for Earth.

  “Sir?”

  He closed the connection as Anchen took a seat at his gesture. “Did you hear that?” he said numbly. “The Naralax . . . gone?”

  “It is not gone, Mr. Hollans.” Two fingers inscribed a spiral through the air, rings tinkling. “We have moved it. Temporarily.”

  “Where?” Hollans gripped the edge of his desk, trying to understand. “Why?”

  Anchen smiled. “Where? To Earth orbit. Why?” Her fingers formed loops before her eyes. “We participate in the promise.”

  26

  HOME AND HORROR

  OF THEM ALL, ONLY FY wasn’t shocked. Which was just as well, Mac thought, since the Sinzi happily busied herself setting up a tactical display at Nik’s hoarse request.

  “What do you mean—we’re in orbit?” The Impeci’s pilot, Bhar, had regained consciousness only to doubt he truly had. They’d made him comfortable in the dart’s open hatch. “That’s impossible,” he insisted. “The gate’s inside Venus’ orbit. It takes almost a week to get to Earth.”

  “Apparently things have changed,” Mac told him. She felt somewhat vindicated by this evidence the transects were not as foolproof as she’d been told. It brought the technology down to the level of a malfunctioning lev; something to be fixed.

  Although there was the issue of crashing first.

  The tactical display came to life outside the dart, a larger version of what might be generated by an imp. Earth was to one side, a breathtaking swirl of white over blue.

  But like the others, Mac kept looking to the other side, where a rotating spiral of silver ships—Sinzi ships—dominated the polar sky.

  “We are here.” Enlarging the display, Fy put her fingertip on a pair of dots. They were within a cloud of similar dots exiting the base of the spiral.

  Aimed at Earth.

  “All That Are Dhryn,” Her Glory rumbled.

  Nik’s eyes were fixed on the image, his hands clenched into fists. “I knew it,” he accused. “The Sinzi will sacrifice Earth for the IU!”

  “We participate in the promise—”

  “Stop saying that!” Mac shouted at Fy. “This is our world. Our home! Don’t you realize what you’re doing to us? Why did you bring the Dhryn?”

  “We did nothing but come to Sol and move the Naralax in congruence with Earth.”

  “Why?” Nik repeated, his voice no quieter than Mac’s.
/>   Fy’s fingers were trembling. “Surely it is obvious—”

  “What’s obvious is you’ve betrayed us!” Her own hand shaking, Mac brushed tears from her cheeks. “I trusted you. We all did!”

  “Wait,” this sharply, from Her Glory. “Look.”

  The cloud of Dhryn was dispersing before their eyes; they weren’t heading for the planet below.

  Even as that relief hit, Mac gasped as she saw where they were going. “They—they aren’t—”

  Fy seemed to relax. “Yes. You see? As anticipated.”

  All that remained of the Dhryn turned to close on the spiral of Sinzi vessels.

  “The Ro must have Called the Progenitors to eliminate the real threat to their plans,” observed Her Glory. “We are too late.”

  “We’re still in this,” Nik said urgently. “Deruym Ma Nas. Tell the Progenitor—we must break away from the other Dhryn ships, now.” The Dhryn looked startled, but ran for the nearest com panel—at least, Mac assumed that’s what it was. “Fy,” Nik continued, “show me system-wide tactical. Where are the Human ships?”

  The display twinned under the Sinzi’s direction, the second half showing from Earth inward. “Your fleet is gathered where the Naralax used to be,” Fy said unnecessarily. “With a substantial number of Trisulian vessels. Together they approach your world. They will not reach it for another four days at maximum.” A growing list of text appeared. Mac didn’t try to read it. “Interesting. A substantial number of nongovernment newspackets are entering the gate from your world. I do not recognize the type.”

  “Media drones,” Bhar volunteered. “I don’t believe it.”

  “There’s got to be something we can do.” Nik yanked out his com and began spouting code and numbers into the device.

  Spy stuff.

  Mac was staring at Fy. “This won’t accomplish anything,” she objected. “You’ll only die first. The Ro will use our worlds.”

  “The Sinzi go!” She glanced around at Bhar’s hoarse cry. “They’re running from the Dhryn.”

  They all looked. Sure enough, though a few Sinzi ships appeared to be holding position—perhaps to control the transect gate—the rest were now leaving the spiral. The result was like a flower opening.