And about as fast.
“You call that running?” Mac wanted to reach into the display and shove the tiny lights out of danger. The Progenitors were gaining every second. “Can’t they go faster?
“If they wish,” Fy said calmly.
If she was being pursued by giant ships filled with feeders she’d wish a great deal harder, Mac thought, wondering what the Sinzi were up to—and why it had to be in her corner of the universe.
“If . . .” Nik closed his hand over his com. “You want the Dhryn to follow.” Flat, sure, that dangerous tone. “Your people are bait. For what?”
“We promised to keep Anchen safe from the Ro, and to help Mac return home.”
“How?” Mac burst out. “By dying?” The Progenitor ships in the display became haloed with a bright glitter. “Those are feeders.” She probably hadn’t needed to point that out, Mac realized, given there were five sitting on the deck behind them.
The first Sinzi ships disappeared within that glitter. Mac reached out blindly, finding warmth with one hand. It wasn’t Human.
Her Glory.
Mac turned and stared into that alien face, those golden eyes. Only, for an instant, it wasn’t alien at all, the grief in those eyes so real and familiar it was all she could do not to say his name and weep.
“The Progenitor has broken away as you suggested, Vessel,” Deruym Ma Nas told Nik. From his tone, the Dhryn was thoroughly confused by the entire process. Lucky.
“Where’s She going?” Mac asked, trying to find their dot among the many. Away from the rest would be a positive step.
The archivist sat down, as if exhausted by the trot to the com panel. Which he could be, Mac realized. “Our mission has not changed. The Progenitor hunts the Ro contamination,” he told them. “It will be on the planet.”
Nik’s eyes caught and held Mac’s. “Earth,” he said.
Not a positive step.
CONTACT
THE TELEMATICS AREA of the Atrium was silent, except for technicians’ low voices as they relayed information. Above them all, beyond the curve of atmosphere, Sinzi ran. Sinzi died. And when the rest of the Dhryn were finished, everyone knew they’d turn to follow the Progenitor already on course for Earth.
They’d done all they could for the Sinzi. Now it was time to save themselves.
Hollans turned to his aide. “Dee, do we have anything in range?”
Dee grimaced. “Nothing bigger than a docking shuttle. Unless you want to throw shipping crates at them.” She checked the ’screen hovering by her ear. “The Sinzi—at least they’re buying us time, sir. Evacuations are underway from every continent. How much damage we take depends on where that first Dhryn strikes.”
They’d prepared for this—the way a desperate parent realizes she can carry only one child to safety through the fire and must let go of those other small fingers.
The Human species would survive another day, or however long the Ro left them.
“She hasn’t said a word?”
Hollans looked over at the Sinzi-ra. Her great topaz eyes gazed at the display, her fingers quiet in their complex weaving, her gown impeccable. A dark red ring winked among the silver on her third left finger. He’d come to notice such things. “No,” he answered. “But that doesn’t mean silence.”
Dee took a message and grabbed Hollans’ arm even as she replied into her headset. Then, “Sir! It’s Nik. Trojanowski!” Pure triumph. “He’s back!”
“Patch him through. Now.”
“Here.”
“What’s going on?” The familiar voice filled the area, drawing everyone’s attention.
To the point. Definitely Trojanowski. “The Sinzi are being pursued by the Dhryn. Where are you?”
“On the Progenitor Ship heading for Earth. Don’t shoot. She’s our contact and free of Ro influence. She’s after the Ro. Says there’s one on Earth.”
“We have no—” Hollans stopped as Anchen came up to him. “The Sinzi-ra is here,” he said.
“Greetings, Nikolai,” as if her kind wasn’t in peril. “How is Mac?”
“Here and worried.” Quick and sharp. “Sinzi-ra, what are your people doing?”
“What they must,” she replied placidly. “Do you require assistance?”
A pause Hollans sympathized with, then a brisk: “Is Dr. Mamani still following the Ro device? We believe it’s some kind of a mobile station—where a Ro interacts with real space. Vulnerable. If we can get to it, stop the Ro, that should stop the Dhryn.”
Hollans made an urgent gesture to his aide. “We’re sending you Dr. Mamani’s current position now,” he told Nik. “A force will meet you there.”
“Have them stand by,” came the surprising response.
“For what? You may have noticed time isn’t something we have in great supply, Mr. Trojanowski.”
“There’s a threat, sir. We believe there’s a Ro failsafe on the device. We’ll need the Sinzi’s help to disable it. Sinzi-ra Myriam, Fy, is on board. She’ll pass along the details.”
A threat—to Earth. Hollans relinquished his place at the com with a bow to Anchen.
To his aide, “Continue evacuation protocols.”
27
CONSEQUENCE AND CHANGE
MAC HAD LISTENED carefully to Nik’s plan. It had been as reasonable as anything else she’d heard lately. been as reasonable as anything else she’d heard
She’d just modified it.
Which was why she was jamming her right foot into an evacsuit. The smell curling up from inside reminded her of dead salmon, which, under the circumstances, seemed almost pleasant. Almost.
“Tell me again why you’re going instead of me, Dr. Connor.”
Mac squinted at Bhar. The pilot was on his feet. And leaning on the edge of the stairs to stay that way. “Because I could push you down,” she observed pleasantly.
“You’re a civilian!”
“That’s what I keep telling everyone,” she agreed, pulling the wretched garment over her shoulders. “They never listen.”
Nik, already in the other suit, sealed his visor. “Ready?” His voice came out with a tinny undertone, reminding her of Svehla in his scuba gear.
“Yes,” she said, doing her best with the unfamiliar fasteners as she moved.
“Bhar?”
“On my way, sir. Good hunting.”
Mac hadn’t asked about the Impeci, what it would be like. She didn’t care. They’d only be inside as long as it took to drop from orbit to Emily’s last known position.
Home.
Fy was coming with them, as were the Dhryn. All the Dhryn. The Progenitor—both of them—were insistent. Mac eyed the five feeder pods now limpeted to the upper hull. Probably should call ahead for walnuts.
Among the elements Nik was coordinating as Sinzi died and they rushed to Earth?
Walnuts could wait.
The remaining Humans would trust themselves to the Imrya’s skills with the Sinzi communication system and Earthgov’s ability to track them. Fy had preset the dart to soft land on Earth. Mac wished them luck.
The Impeci—more specifically Her Successor—would find and destroy the Ro while the Progenitor waited in orbit. She’d liked the plan.
She wanted to like the plan, too, Mac told herself wearily. She nodded good-bye to Bhar and waved to the others.
A shame she couldn’t.
Mac entered the contaminated ship after Nik, catching up to him in the wide opening that led to the ship’s internal corridors. The Impeci seemed entirely harmless and ordinary; she could have been inside any overnight transit lev. If she ignored the radiation warning that scrolled underfoot, its arrows pointing the way to safety.
Outside.
Where safety was no more than one being’s good intentions.
“Nik. Wait.” Her voice echoed inside the visor. He pointed to the com control by her chin. Mac pushed it on, fumbling in her haste. “Nik,” she repeated. “We can’t leave yet. The Progenitor. She’s—We can’t tru
st Her.”
His visor angled down so he could look at her, but she couldn’t see enough of his face to read his expression. His tone was neutral. “She’s promised to leave Earth alone.”
“But I don’t believe She can,” Mac said urgently. “Her feeders—they won’t let Her starve to death, not with a planetful of life in reach. You brought—” She swallowed hard. “I know you have the means on board.”
“You know what you’re asking, Mac?” Still that neutral voice.
Optimist, not idiot, Mac wanted to say. Instead, she snapped: “Of course I know,” then regretted her temper. It wasn’t Nik’s fault. She put her gloved hand on his wrist in apology. “We must be able to stop Her, if it becomes necessary.”
His glove covered hers. “Spy, remember? A certain level of mistrust’s a job skill.” More soberly. “I rigged charges when we first boarded, controlled from the Impeci. Two failsafes. One’s here. Anything interrupts the signal from this ship, boom.”
Mac shuddered inwardly. “The other?”
His hand moved to pat the biceps on his other arm.
Gods. “I really didn’t want to know that.”
“You might need to.” A gesture forward. “Let’s get going.”
She’d—almost—prided herself achieving a level of ruthlessness she’d never imagined before.
Not in Nik’s league.
The Impeci’s bridge was small and straightforward. Once the Dhryn ripped out the chairs, there was room for all of them. Mac stayed back. Her role, if any, would come once they landed.
That had been the modification to the plan. Emily, and she supposed Case Wilson, had used the Tracer to pinpoint the location of the Ro chamber. Mac was the only other Human qualified to use the device; made sense to have her available.
That wasn’t why Nik agreed to take her along.
The Ro had used the same technology to find her once. They had—how had Fy put it?—an interest in a certain salmon researcher.
Mac crossed her arms as best she could in the evacsuit. There was, she thought with no little irony, distinct circularity to it all. If she was Sinzi, she’d enjoy it.
The Tracer could find the Ro—Emily’s hunt had proved that. What would happen next depended on luring the Ro from its chamber into the open.
So, like the Sinzi running not quite fast enough from the Dhryn, Mac was bait.
Once the Ro was exposed, Her Glory was more than willing to tackle the creature. And probably could. Though to Mac’s unspoken relief, Nik had assured them that, if needed, reinforcements would be there.
But dealing with the Ro was only the first step. They had to seal the chamber’s connection to no-space before it began draining Earth’s oceans.
Fy believed it could be done.
They were, Mac decided, leaping blind.
“We’re clear of the Progenitor,” Nik announced. He cued the main screen. A mass of dim silver rushed by overhead, but Mac stared hungrily at their goal. Earth. Northern hemisphere. Pacific. Home indeed.
Deruym Ma Nas peered at the display. “What’s that?”
Her Glory hooted. “Another world, Deruym Ma Nas.”
“Are you sure? It looks too small,” the archivist argued.
A louder hoot greeted that.
Fy came up to Mac. The Sinzi version of an evacsuit was a clear membrane, as if the being was coated with flexible glass. It silenced her rings, but not the restlessness of her fingers. “Mac, I have a difficulty.”
Nik heard and frowned. The man who knew the species. Mac gave him a slight warning shake of her head, having a little more experience with this particular Sinzi. “What difficulty?”
“I must confer in more detail with Anchen—”
“The connection’s open, Fy,” Nik said, gesturing to the com panel. “But I thought you’d already discussed what needs to be done with the Sinzi-ra.” Mac was likely the only one on board who could interpret his tone as: don’t need a problem, busy saving the world.
Fy spun in a tight circle, fingers close to her body, then stopped as quickly, her neck bending to bring her face almost touching Mac’s. “Instella is inadequate,” she whispered miserably. “I must speak as Sinzi do, but that’s not permitted in front of—”
“Aliens,” Mac said helpfully, when the being faltered. The Impeci was plummeting to Earth, they were standing in evacsuits to survive even this brief exposure to the contaminated ship, and—if she grasped the essentials—the being who was to help save the planet was worrying over manners while her species faced near-extinction.
Somehow, Mac managed not to laugh, protest, or tear at her hair. Watching this exchange, Nik’s frown turned into a look of serious concern and he pointed to the time. Of which they had none. “Tell you what, Fy,” this as cheerfully as possible. “Close your eyes and pretend we aren’t here.”
Now Fy was frowning, too, although in a Sinzi the expression involved a painful-looking knot of fingers.
Plan B. Mac reached into the right side pocket of her evacsuit, pushed her hand through the sealant layer, and fumbled her way into the pocket of her coveralls. Finally a real use for the damn thing. “Hang on,” she grunted, trying to snag her prize with two gloved fingers. The world dies because she can’t reach a stupid . . . “There!” With that, she tugged free a blue-and-green envelope barred with gold. Her name appeared over its surface in moving letters of mauve. “By the authority of the Interspecies Union,” Mac said glibly, “I demand you speak to Anchen in whatever language will save us.” She brandished the envelope like a flag under the Sinzi’s eyes. “Okay?”
There was a moment of complete silence on the bridge.
Then Fy bowed, almost as graciously as Ureif. “Okay.” She walked over to the com, Nik easing out of her way, and called up a ’screen above the com. “Anchen,” she said clearly. “Concerning the procedure to close the Myrokynay’s no-space connections within the target area. I have additional thoughts, based on the likeliest materials of construction. We must—” the Instella stopped and something else began.
Mac had edged closer, curious. Now she winced and covered her ears, an action which made no difference whatsoever to the bedlam coming through the speakers inside her helmet. The two Dhryn merely looked startled. Nik waved at Mac, then pantomimed how to control the volume. Mac lifted her hand to do so, but waited.
The sound issuing from Fy’s mouth was harsh to Human ears not because it was discordant, she realized, but because it was modulating so quickly and along such a scale it came across as static. No, more than that. Multiple tones implied a simultaneous conversation, as if Anchen’s reply—perhaps more than Anchen’s—in the same tongue overlapped Fy’s. Certainly Fy’s lips hadn’t stopped moving.
They listened and spoke at the same time?
Jabulani would love this, Mac thought. Not to mention what it implied of the usual pace of information exchange between the Sinzi. They must think we’re snails. The patience and skill required of any Sinzi who had to talk to another species—no wonder they invented Instella. They’d needed it so others could talk to them.
Finished, Fy’s fingers closed her ’screen. She turned to Nik and Mac. “Anchen has studied the penetration of the consulate by the Ro. Their technology has not significantly advanced with time as has ours. We concur there is room for confidence our efforts will be successful. If the Ro opens its gate, that is. If it remains inactive, we can do nothing.”
Great, up the odds. Still, Mac thought this a positive sign. Nik, however, had that expressionless nothing good look. “We’ll get it to stick its head out,” she insisted. “I’m not the only bait.” She nodded at Her Glory.
Her Glory, perhaps fortunately, was preoccupied. She was watching the sensors. Probably good someone was, Mac thought.
Until the Dhryn’s hand shot forward to adjust one control, then another. No haste, but not slow either. “We have new traffic, Lamisah.” The announcement was quiet and sure. “Coming through the gate.”
Nik did somethin
g to the main screen, changing the display from the oncoming ball of ocean and cloud to a stream of code.
Fy let out a string of Sinzi, fingers moving more quickly than Mac could see. The Dhryn rumbled. While Nik, staring at the code, was muttering: “That’s . . . that’s . . . I don’t believe it . . . how . . .”
All of which didn’t help a certain biologist one iota.
“Would someone tell me what’s going on?” Mac demanded.
CONTACT
EACH AND EVERY TRAFFIC controller, from the Antarctic spaceport to the Moon—and way stations between—reacted by locking down anything remotely near Earth orbit, including whatever sat in launch catapults. Although this meant a disruption in shipping likely to result in more than a few stale pastries, no one argued.
There wasn’t room for more.
Ships differing in shape, size, and species were pouring from the gate held above the North Pole by the Sinzi. Hundreds. Thousands. There were no com calls. Protocol didn’t exist. The only reason they didn’t collide on arrival was that exiting from no-space somehow pushed existing matter aside.
That, and the fact that each ship immediately powered up to chase Dhryn.
“Even the Ar,” Hollans observed, shaking his head in wonder. “Outstanding.”
The Imrya ambassador was standing nearby. “Our fleet was the first through,” he pointed out. “These others? Why, some do not have offensive capabilities! What can they hope to accomplish?”
“The same thing we all do, Ambassador,” answered Hollans with a grim smile. “To save the Sinzi. To save the IU. Even an unarmed starship can be a weapon, if you have the will.”
Anchen had been with consular staff, about to serve species-specific refreshments. Now she came up to the Human and Imrya, and gestured to the display. “You showed them our need and they have come.” A deep bow to Hollans. “Thank you.”
Regeneration (Czerneda) Page 55