Regeneration (Czerneda)

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Hollans lost his smile. “You knew?”

  With every military and government resource days away at the original gate, he’d pulled strings at every level, threatened, begged, and bribed, all to send every orbiting Human media packet and snoop satellite through the new gate, with their vid recordings of the Sinzi spiral—and the attack of the Dhryn. There hadn’t been time to add explanations. He’d had to trust the images would be enough, even if the eyes seeing them wouldn’t be Human.

  “What you did? Of course. That any would answer?” A delicate shrug. “We had hope, nothing more. There comes a time, my friends, when actions speak past any differences of language or form. Observe.”

  Hollans followed the sweep of finger back to the display.

  The spreading fountain of Sinzi vessels, the base already engulfed by Dhryn, slowed, then stopped. Before the Dhryn caught up to them, they began to move again, but this time inward, more and more quickly, the fountain collapsing back on itself.

  Into the whirlpool of oncoming ships.

  All two hundred and seventy Progenitors’ ships slowed, then stopped, a decision echoed by the glittering clouds of tiny feeder ships. Then, as if unable to fathom anything but the Call to consume the Sinzi, every Dhryn turned and followed.

  The minutes ticked by, positions shifting, the future becoming inevitable.

  As the last Sinzi poured through the newcomers to safety, the display showed weaponsfire—a concentrated, targeted stream from every ship capable of it, at point-blank range.

  Within minutes, the Great Journey was over. That Which Was Dhryn became nothing more than glowing debris.

  Except for one.

  A lone Progenitor’s ship, with a slagged prow, still on course for Earth.

  “Sinzi-ra Anchen?” Hollans asked diffidently. There was no longer doubt who had planned this—who now would make the decision.

  “We await the final congruence,” the Sinzi said. “Would you care for tea, Mr. Hollans?”

  28

  CONGRUENCE AND CONFRONTATION

  MAC WAITED FOR THE OTHER SHOE to drop. Nik was busy on the com to Hollans, passing along congratulations and whatever else people said to one another during a victory celebration. Victory, she thought numbly. Her Glory, still at sensors, had showed no emotion as the IU destroyed Her kind. Deruym Ma Nas hadn’t understood. His Progenitors did.

  Unlike the Dhryn, Fy was visibly shaken. She hovered beside Mac and her fingers flowed up and down in short flutters, as if she tried to fly.

  “Are you all right?” Mac asked at last.

  “I’m in accord,” Fy replied—hopefully a yes. “Other members of the IU now have proof we were as much at risk as they from the Dhryn. Their response—its result? I don’t know the Human equivalent to how I feel, Mac. As you see, I cannot move slowly, as you’ve wisely suggested is appropriate. I shall never forget this moment. It will reshape what I am. Thus for all Sinzi.”

  Mac frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Many of us died today.” A fingertip rested on Mac’s chest for an instant. “As you go where you’re needed, so must we. The transects must be maintained and kept safe for all. My Faras-self is capable and will assume this task.” A lift of two fingers, like a Human shrug. “Others will go to do the same.”

  “What of your research?” Mac asked.

  “My Yt-self will continue.” Fy’s triangular mouth formed a passably Human smile. “She enjoys the hunt. To answer questions and seek new ones. To disturb the dust. Do not fear I’ll—”

  . . .“What of your research?” Mac asked—again!—then stared at the Sinzi. “What just—”

  Her Glory shouted, “On intercept!”

  There was always another shoe.

  As if outside of panic, Mac considered the situation and snorted to herself. Okay, with aliens, it could be more than two shoes. Or none.

  Life used to be so simple.

  Nik was answering the Dhryn, his voice tense. “I see it. Fy—we’ll need to sharpen our approach, get some speed.”

  “What is it?” Mac started to follow the Sinzi to her console, walking between the two Dhryn to reach Nik. “What’s—”

  A grip that would have broken her flesh arm. “It’s them!” shrieked Deruym Ma Nas. “I saw them. I saw them before! I know that shape!”

  Mac’s eyes leaped to the main screen, no longer a to-her meaningless mass of codes. Instead, it showed a spire hanging in the darkness.

  “So do I,” she said numbly.

  The Ro had stopped hiding.

  CONTACT

  CASE RAISED THE VIEWER TO HIS EYES, turning slowly to scan the sea ice. “What I thought. She’s gone past the pressure ridge.” He pointed to a line of heaved, upthrust white, the sleeve of his well-worn cold weather suit pressed flat by the biting wind. His hair stood straight.

  Probably frozen. ’Sephe leaned her chin into her com, tucked inside the warmth of her hood. The former fisher had assured her this was spring. Hadn’t arrived as far as she could tell. “This is Stewart. Inform Hollans Dr. Mamani isn’t back yet. Does he want me to go and get her?”

  She waited for the reply behind a dubious shelter of mem-fabric, hoping the answer would be no.

  The Tracer had led them to this icy desolation. According to Emily. The Ro—or whatever they followed—had stopped. According to Emily. They’d been moving the harvester lev in steadily decreasing circles ever since. Now, the good doctor finally satisfied, they waited while she fine-tuned whatever it was. Which required peace and quiet. Without company.

  According to Emily. Case hadn’t argued. ’Sephe had learned to watch him for signals when Emily Mamani was pushing herself too far. Impossible to tell otherwise. The woman was driven.

  So long as she went in the right direction, ’Sephe was happy. She didn’t want to follow her out on the ice.

  “Hollans here.”

  ’Sephe straightened, the wind hitting her back. “Yes, sir.”

  “This isn’t a conversation call. We’re about to take out the hostile. Get Dr. Mamani back from wherever she’s gone and stand by.”

  Before ’Sephe could acknowledge, there was a sudden crack, as if a whip had snapped across the sky. She looked up in time to see the rear of the harvester drop away.

  “We’re under attack!” she shouted, then ran for Case.

  The sea exploded around them.

  29

  ENEMIES AND ENDS

  “THE TRUE BATTLE BEGINS!” “Stay at your post!” Nik snapped at the aroused Dhryn. Her Glory subsided, but Mac could feel the vibration of her rage through the deck. “It’s not our fight,” he continued. “We’re after the one on Earth. Monitor what’s going on. How’s the Progenitor?”

  This brought an anguished moan from Deruym Ma Nas. Mac put her hand on his shoulder and bent to his ear. “Trust them, Erumisah,” she said in Dhryn. “As She does.”

  Did the Progenitor know what Nik had left behind on Her ship? Did she understand what her lamisah might do in the name of their own kind?

  Mac doubted any answer to those questions could remove the sick feeling from her stomach. She looked for a bright side. Maybe it was the first sign of radiation poisoning.

  “The Ro do nothing,” Her Glory rumbled. Then, “Aha! The Progenitor sends Her Mouths against them. We shall prevail!”

  “Why don’t they counterattack?” Fy pointed at the silent, motionless Ro ship.

  Nik didn’t look up from the Impeci’s controls. “I think they are,” he said. “Looks like we were right—the autodestruct can’t affect Her ship. But they’ll—”

  The display was erased by a blinding flash, then reset itself. Mac’s visor compensated. The Dhryns’ eyes, she noticed, were now protected by that blue inner lid. Fy had her fingers before her eyes and appeared in distress, but she had no time to check on her.

  What was happening was before them all.

  The Ro had fired on the Progenitor.

  As Her great ship began to glow in wide bands—alm
ost mimicry—Mac held onto Deruym Ma Nas, although the battered older Dhryn did nothing more than thrum his distress. Finally understanding what he saw, she thought, and held tighter.

  She’d remembered the Ro ship as a towering splinter of bronze and light, accompanied by other, much smaller splinters. On the Impeci’s screen, she saw the reality. The main splinter was not a single piece, but three identical shards, like immense crystal fingers. Those, like the smaller pieces, were connected by crisscrossing scaffolds, their tips toward the embattled Progenitor, as if whatever beam or power had been used originated from those ends.

  All the while feeders swarmed over the Ro ship, fastening to its sleek surfaces, corroding through. Despite what she knew, Mac silently urged them on, but it was too little, too late.

  The last Progenitor’s ship lost its shape and reflection, turning dark as it was liquefied before their eyes. Fragments burst away. Their contribution? It didn’t matter. She was gone.

  Deruym Ma Nas curled into a massive ball of misery, eyes shut tight. But Her Glory began shouting at Nik. “Let me call them! They are mine now!”

  At first, stung by grief, Mac couldn’t understand what the Dhryn wanted so desperately.

  Nik did.

  “Stay back!” His weapon flashed out. “I won’t let you send them against Earth!”

  Mac stared at the screen. The dots that were the feeders now drifted aimlessly away from the Ro ship. They might be mindless, but they reacted as if they knew their Progenitor was dead and they no longer had function.

  “Fool! I’ll send them against our enemy! My Vessel, tell him!”

  The Ro ship was tilting. Aiming at them!

  “Nikolai. The other ships can’t reach us before the Ro fire,” Fy said quietly.

  Why was everyone looking at her?

  “All I know,” Mac told him, “is we can talk to Her Glory.”

  Nik whirled and punched a sequence of buttons. “Do it,” he told the Dhryn over his shoulder, his eyes wild. “This should reach them.”

  Hadn’t put down the weapon, Mac noticed.

  Her Glory sat on Her four legs, and closed Her mouth. Before Mac could do more than frown with surprise, the Dhryn’s sides began moving in and out.

  If she’d thought the deck vibrated before, this was paramount to a quake. Mac tore her eyes back to the screen. “It’s working!” she cried as dots began moving back to the Ro.

  The Ro ship tipped further. Dots winked out in line with its sparkling prow. It continued to turn over, like an immense broom sweeping space clear.

  “We’re entering the atmosphere,” Fy exclaimed.

  The Ro ship was almost in line with them.

  Nik looked at Mac and shook his head. “We’re not going to make it.”

  Suddenly, a new voice screamed: “We take our vengeance!” The display filled with a black hull even as alarms rang through the small bridge.

  “Damn Trisulian almost clipped us! Where’d she come from?” Nik demanded, hurrying back to the controls. The alarm fell away.

  Fy’s fingers were flying over her console, but it was Her Glory who answered. “Through the gate. They must have vectored in behind the Progenitor. There are more—”

  On cue, the speaker blared again, this time with a familiar voice. “Sorry we’re late. Got a bit crowded back there. Glad you’ve left us something to do.”

  “Welcome to the party, Captain.” Nik’s smile was a beautiful thing.

  Captain Gillis?

  Mac sagged against the conveniently still-comatose archivist. “The Joy—?” she whispered.

  “We’re battered and bloody, but we’ve teeth. The walkers left when you did. Thanks for that.” The voice faded, then came back loud and clear. “We’ll keep this guy busy. Good hunting. Joy out.”

  Nikolai Trojanowski shut off the display, then looked around the bridge. His head was up, his eyes bright and fierce. He held out his hand to Mac as she rose to her feet. He nodded to Fy. “Sinzi-ra,” he said with a slight bow. “Put her down at the coordinates for Dr. Mamani. Mac? We need to change.”

  The air hit like a drug. Mac drew in a greedy gasp, coughed at the cold, then immediately took another, each feeling as though it went straight to her arteries.

  “There!” Nik shouted, his arm raised to point.

  Mac was busy looking the other way. “Ah, Nik?”

  He turned and glanced up. The five feeders they’d brought were lifting free from the hull of the Impeci, their small craft noiseless and quick.

  They weren’t alone.

  A dozen, maybe more, were overhead.

  “Do not fear, Lamisah!” Her Glory boomed. “These shall drink only of the Ro!”

  “Oh, good,” Mac replied, for want of anything better to say.

  Nik shrugged and pulled up his hood. “Let’s go.”

  They’d only started walking when he touched her arm. “We’re expected.”

  Mac followed his gesture. Coming behind them was a line of Ministry levs, large, black, and thoroughly reassuring.

  Less reassuring was the plume of smoke beyond the levs, rising from a crashed hulk on the ice. “The harvester!” Mac gasped. “Emily!”

  But she took only one step in that direction before Nik grabbed her. “She’s not there, Mac. C’mon!”

  “This way!” Her Glory was already on the move, her six legs churning. Those padded feet were perfect for irregular ice, Mac couldn’t help but notice. Better traction than her borrowed boots, intended for a man half again her size.

  It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now. She could see their goal for herself: Emily, a dark slim line against the gray-blue ice, her attention on the Tracer.

  They stumbled forward, levs landing all around them. Emily’s hood was off. Mac saw the flash of pale as she twisted her head to check out the newcomers, then turned back to the machine.

  “She’s got it,” Mac shouted to Nik as they ran. “She’s found it!”

  Armored figures began pouring from the levs. Some carried equipment. There were shouts, orders. Some at them. Nik slowed as someone claimed his attention. Several someones, like ice-white trees with topaz eyes. Sinzi!

  Mac kept running, for these last few steps with one hand gripping the Dhryn beside her to take advantage of the larger being’s power. Their breath puffed, out of sync.

  A final slide and rush, and they arrived.

  “Hi, Mac. About time you got here.” Emily’s lips pulled from her teeth in a predator’s grin. Her eyes touched and dismissed the Dhryn. “I see we need to talk. Later. He’s coming up.” She drew a finger through the ’screen hovering above the console. “See?”

  It felt so utterly normal that Mac stepped to the console without a second thought, her eyes reading the status. “The ’bots are under the ice,” she said in wonder. And not in a straight line, as they’d used to scan the Tannu River, but closing in a circle like a net. “They’ve been reliable?”

  “Good as your finny friends,” boasted Emily. “Case helped with the mod. But can we focus on that, please?” “That” being something large and asymmetrical, rising slowly from the depths.

  Not that slowly. “It’s underneath us?” Mac shifted her feet.

  “We’re on top of it,” Em countered cheerily. “Perfect! I admit, I was wondering how to get its attention. Seemed set on anchoring to the bottom here. Running into it with ’bots didn’t seem to make any difference. But it began moving a moment ago. I should have known you’d bring the right bait.” This time, she did look at the Dhryn, a long assessing look. “Interesting.”

  “Later,” Mac reminded her. “Emily, we’ve a problem. This thing—” she pointed at their quarry. “It’s capable of taking the ocean with it. Through some kind of no-space gate.”

  “Why?”

  It was still rising. Mac could hear shouts across that ice and hoped that Nik and the Sinzi were ready with whatever they had.

  If they had anything . . .

  If the Ro ship had been destroyed . . .r />
  If the feeders knew the difference between friend and foe . . .

  Mac shrugged. In so many ways, the future might be measured in heartbeats.

  Not her problem.

  “The Ro are trying to regrow themselves,” she explained quickly. “Here. In the ocean. When they’re stopped, they retrieve whatever they’ve done, including the water. We don’t know if it’s deliberate or a consequence—but that’s why the Chasm worlds are dry, Em. The Dhryn killed the Ro, but their gate took away the water.”

  “We shall kill the Ro.” Ice snapped as Her Glory spoke for the first time. Her hand rose to the feeders overhead.

  Emily followed the gesture with her eyes and appeared transfixed. “Gods, Mac. What have you done?”

  “Later,” Mac said again. “Listen to me, Em. You, too.” She smacked Her Glory on a broad shoulder. “We have to do this in the right order. The Ro has to come out first, hear me? We let the Sinzi do whatever they can. Then we—” hold a meeting, ask its name, check its agenda, ”—then we kill it,” she said, cold and sure.

  Her species imperative.

  “Which means we have to get out of the way!” Mac glanced at the readout. The Ro was accelerating upward. “Now would be good,” she urged.

  Her Glory was moving back. Emily shook her head, staying with the Tracer, her fingers reaching for its ’screen. “Just let me—”

  “Em!” Mac reached for Emily and pulled with all her might.

  The ice smashed open from below, blocks and crystal shooting in all directions. They were knocked flat.

  And a huge writhing mass of red reached for the sky.

  She’d expected a machine or some obscene blend like a walker. Not this. On her back beside Emily, Mac stared up into what was most definitely alive.

  Not a tentacle, she decided. More like a rapidly growing tendril or root, pulsing wider every bit as quickly as it expanded in length. Transparent in places, with budlike protrusions also growing. Utter black in others. All of it in motion, yet she could swear she glimpsed stars within those patches of darkness.