~YOU WILL NOT INTERFERE WITH US~
The words tore into Mac’s skin, cutting to the bone. She could hear Emily screaming.
The pain wasn’t as important as the triumph. They had the Ro!
~WE CONTINUE~
Mac writhed, her back arching, but found her voice. “We’ll stop you!”
~YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT. YOU WILL END~
Agony!
~WE ARE WHAT WILL LIVE FOREVER~
The tendril seemed to reach the clouds.
There was a roar that shook the ice. Mac and Emily clung to one another.
Then, gently, it began to rain.
Green rain, the color of growing things, of spring.
The first drops struck the tendril and it flung itself from side to side, succeeding only in spreading the liquid.
More drops fell.
Great suppurating wounds appeared. The tendril flailed once more, then dropped to the ice with a heavy thud.
~WE MUST SUR~
And more drops fell.
Until nothing was left of the tendril but a pool of green liquid on the ice.
Then the mouths began to drink.
30
FRIENDS AND FINALES
MAC SPAT SNOW. “You dead?” Emily asked, her tone one of idle curiosity. “You dead?” Emily asked, her tone one of idle
Cold. And it felt like someone had pounded nails through her skin. Mac took a cautiously deep breath. “Nope. You?”
Emily Mamani rolled over on her stomach. Her dark eyes shone. There was snow in her hair. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“What about everyone else?”
The two biologists sat up and looked around.
Floating ice filled the hole torn by the Ro. Crystals were sifting into the cracks. The hole would be gone soon.
The ocean remained.
They’d done it. Mac said it to herself. Didn’t quite believe, yet.
“Tracer’s pooched,” Emily commented. Sure enough, all that showed of the device was a bent support strut poking through the ice.
“Looks like it.” They helped each other stand, the process complicated more by a tendency to giggle than the freshening wind. “What parts do you—”
“Mac!” She whirled at the voice and immediately lost her footing. It didn’t help that Nik slipped as he tried to catch her. They fell to the ice laughing.
Emily leaned over to look down at them. “Gee, that’s romantic.”
“Get your own spy,” Mac said, and proceeded to pay attention to her own.
There were details. There were always details, Mac fussed, holding Nik’s hand. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was more that she viewed what was done as done.
Time to move on.
She could taste spring in the air, this close to the Arctic Circle.
But no, there were details. Which required standing in what the Ministry apparently viewed as a landing field. She could tell them a thing or two about the seeming permanence of sea ice. The levs were hovering, at least. The scattered clumps of people were taking their own chances.
Though a shot of hypothermia didn’t seem to worry anyone at the moment.
The crew of the harvester were recovering from it. The few who’d been on board when the Ro attacked had landed in the icy water. They’d all been wearing survival skins beneath their gear. Base regulations had their reasons, Mac thought rather smugly.
“What’s the situation?” Nik asked a newcomer, another of the armored anonymous in black.
The Sinzi had brought their own equipment. Mac had listened to the edges of that conversation. Something about transect gate management then the Sinzi ran out of words. She’d been mildly entertained by the ensuing charades, particularly as the Sinzi were wearing slim gloves over their muscular fingers, the lamnas adding odd lumps. They’d lost her well before the other Humans stopped nodding and looked mutely grateful.
The Sinzi weren’t in danger of losing their role as no-space guardians any time soon, Mac thought. Although she suspected there’d be some hard discussions about consulting with their allies rather than simply maneuvering them into a desired location.
The Naralax Transect was as it had been, Sol’s gate where it had been, to the relief of Venus Orbital and the now-quiet Trisulian armada.
She wasn’t even going to ask. The Sinzi had put themselves at risk to prove a point. The Trisulians—they’d made a point as well. The Inner Council faced a hard decision. If they asked her, Mac thought, while profoundly hoping no one did, she’d wait until after they’d all given birth. No new mother in her experience had time to make trouble.
And there’d been enough suffering.
She found herself yawning and watched the cloud of breath condense.
Nik’s hand abruptly tightened. “Mac. Wake up!”
“Wasn’t asleep,” she protested, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe close.
“You tell her,” he ordered, shaking his head and grinning.
The newcomer tapped his left forefinger against his holster and Mac’s eyes widened. “Sing-li?”
Up went the visor, revealing a huge grin. “Can’t fool you, Mac. Nice having you back.”
Her smile was so wide it hurt. “Nice to be back.”
Sing-li glanced at Nik, then at her. “I see you’re in good hands.” With a wink.
She tried to scowl, but couldn’t. “I think so,” she grinned, tightening her arm around Nik’s waist.
“The message?” Nik suggested. She could hear his smile.
“Delighted, sir. Dr. Connor,” semiofficious, “a message for you has been relayed from Myriam.” Another wink. “There’s only one person I know who could sneak something personal directly here and this fast.”
“Fourteen!” Definitely awake now. “What’s he say?”
“It’s not exactly from our talented Myg,” Nik warned, his grip firming.
Mac stamped her boot on the ice. “Before I freeze, gentlemen?” she suggested.
Sing-li tried to compose his face into something more serious. Didn’t work, Mac thought, waiting impatiently. “Here you go. ‘There will be a full review of all upcoming projects in the Wilderness Trust before’—there’s a line under ‘before,’ Mac—any such projects resume.’ Signed Charles Mudge III.’ ” A pause. “Oh. Sorry, Mac. I didn’t think it would make you cry. We can deal with him,” almost grimly.
“Not crying.” Mac burrowed her head into Nik’s chest and hiccuped helplessly. “Laughing,” she managed to say. If there were some tears mixed in, that was her business. Mudge was alive! “I can deal with Oversight, Sing-li. Trust me.”
She had less to say when, shortly afterward, Nikolai Trojanowski was informed by another messenger that his ship had left orbit some time ago. Along with Her Glory, Deruym Ma Nas, several replete feeders, and one Sinzi.
They’d made it through the gate before the Sinzi removed it from Earth orbit.
Her spy hadn’t seemed surprised.
“I hate these things.”
“The clothes?” Emily gave her a critical look up and down. “Looks fine to me. Two has good taste.”
Mac tugged at the rich blue jacket. “You know what I mean,” she said darkly. “These things. These—” She waved wildly.
“Oh, and that’s clear, Dr. Connor? C’mon. Get down.”
Mac stepped from the platform in front of the Sinzi mirror. “While we’re at it,” she complained, “why do you get to wear normal clothes?” She looked at Emily with envy.
Emily Mamani wore coveralls, with useful pockets. And shoes that weren’t going to trip her. Not that she wasn’t gorgeous , Mac thought, trying to pin down exactly what gave the other woman that glow. Something in the face, perhaps. Freedom.
Purpose.
As represented by the necklace Emily now lifted between two gloved fingers. “Four down,” she said, flipping past those red beads. “Three on the ship. One in the ice.” The remaining beads were white. “Seven to go. Which makes eleven.” She dropped the
necklace savoring the word. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yes, but you were nuts,” Mac reminded her.
The Trisulian warship, with help from others from Myriam, had disabled the Ro ship—if that’s what you called something closer in function to a factory, she thought. But it had already been crippled; the Progenitors, old and new, had had their revenge after all. Early reports described vast areas used to dismantle and rebuild living tissue, others as storerooms for completed walkers and other machines. The Ro themselves? They’d been physically bound to their ship as well as somehow existing outside of it. When the Sinzi terminated its no-space connection, three had reappeared. In pieces.
The chamber beneath the ice—what was left of it after the feeders had been called away by Her Glory—had been filled with preserved embryonic cells, all of the same basic pattern as the Ro themselves. Enough to saturate an ocean. Enough to restart their kind at the expense of any other.
The IU planned to waste no time tracking down the remaining Ro, fearing the beings would retreat before they could be found and destroyed. There would be no more negotiation. It had become apparent even to the idiot faction that the goals of the Myrokynay and the rest of the IU were mutually exclusive.
Survival depended on stopping the Ro while they still could.
Someone else’s battle, Mac thought. Speaking of which. “When do you leave?” she asked Emily.
“The N’not’k await!” That wicked grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay long enough to catch your speech.”
“I am not,” Mac gritted her teeth, “giving a speech.”
Emily ignored her. “Loved the last one, by the way. Did you know they’ll be broadcasting to the IU?”
“Won’t matter,” Mac said, heading for the door. Get it over with. “Not giving a speech,” she muttered. “Going to sit at the back and enjoy my supper. Two promised me shrimp. You,” she jerked her thumb at Emily, “give a speech.”
“Coward.”
Mac stopped at the door and turned. “Behave. And be careful,” she said. Before it could become emotional, she made herself frown. “Keep track of the field season. I’ll have your gear at the station, but try not to arrive late next time.”
Emily tapped her on the nose. “Careful’s my middle name. But Mac?” She shook her head, her eyes warm yet strangely distant. “I won’t be coming back. You can keep my stuff. Oh, I’ll visit,” this quickly as Mac’s face must have shown her shock. “But I’m kind of popular right now, if you’ve noticed. Sencor’s begged to renew my funding. There’s that aquatic world out there. I’ll be able to do what I want for some time.” Her lips twisted to the side. “After I save the known universe.”
“That first,” Mac managed.
A hint of worry creased Emily’s forehead. “You do understand, don’t you? Fish really aren’t my thing.”
That word again.
Unfortunately, she did. “The Survivor Legend. You haven’t given up.”
“Never!” A quick hug and that dazzling smile. “It’s still a puzzle, Mac. What happened to that one world, among all the rest. Aie! Now that we’re getting a clearer picture—the mystery only deepens!” Emily laughed. “I’ll stop. You don’t want to be late for your speech.”
“I’m not,” Mac said clearly as she opened the door, “giving a speech.”
They weren’t all here. The realities of in-system space travel being what they were, it wouldn’t have been possible to bring everyone. Someone must have tried, Mac thought as she surveyed the crowd on the Sinzi’s vast patio. Her father and brothers; Emily’s family. Hollans, of course, with a quite remarkable number of Ministry personnel. In truly awful shirts. She smiled to herself. Fourteen was here in spirit.
Her nimb, he’d informed her smugly, was waiting at Base. Hopefully in a box.
She counted alien species she recognized, getting into the forties before deciding “all of them” likely covered it—including the ones in the fountain she’d still never met in person. Most she didn’t know. Biospace. She liked the word.
“Nice speech,” Nik commented, his breath tickling her ear.
She gave him a suspicious look.
“No, really.” That dimple. “Short, to the point. I think the Imrya, maybe a few others, expected more than ‘Thank you for inviting me tonight. Support research. Enjoy the party.’ But not me.” He laid one hand over his heart. “ ’Twas pure Mac.”
Mac sighed. “I hate these things. My mind goes blank. You, though?” She bumped her shoulder against his. “Even Blake was impressed. And that’s saying something.”
Nik had been more than eloquent. He’d stood before them all—vidbots and living eyes—to tell them exactly how close they’d come to disaster. Without naming names, or species, he’d made it plain that only courage and sacrifice had saved them when diplomacy faltered. The silence at the end had been more telling than any applause.
“I hope so. He kept grilling me. I think Owen and your father took notes. I’ve had easier interrogations, believe me.”
“That’s a good sign,” Mac assured him. “Blake ignores people he doesn’t like.” She slipped her arm through his, watching as the groups below milled around the various bars and entertainments. Not at random. There were preferences. The weather being what it was, the staff had erected either heaters or chillers on poles throughout the expanse. The resulting pattern was quite fascinating. She should make notes.
Later. They’d found this quiet spot away from the rest. They deserved it.
“Do I intrude, Mac, Nikolai?”
“Of course not,” Nik said immediately.
“Anchen!” Mac grinned with delight. “I wondered when we’d see you.”
The gracious Sinzi bowed, her fingers spreading. “I waited. There were many demands on us all. Now, in the pause before departures, comes the right time to complete our promise.”
A word that now made her nervous. “Please tell me this won’t involve the entire civilized universe.”
“Mac!” Nik looked horrified. “Sinzi-ra, there was wine with supper—”
“Giving a speech. Didn’t drink,” she informed him haughtily.
Anchen’s fingers shivered in her laugh. “Always you speak your mind, Mac. I value this even more highly after our absence from one another. You are a joy to me, a nexus who will always be centered within my beings.” This with a brush of those fingers through Mac’s hair.
She restrained the urge to stick out her tongue at Nik. Wine, indeed. “So once I give you my gift, we’re done?” And safe? “No more promises?” In case the Sinzi took that as a request, Mac hurriedly added, “which doesn’t mean I’m suggesting one.”
“You have already done so, Mac.” Another bow. “I am honored to participate in your new promise.”
Oh-oh. Mac glanced at Nik. He, for his part, was looking magnificently noncommittal. Which meant he knew something she didn’t. “What promise would that be?” she asked warily.
“The promise you made to Her Glory, in which Fy became the first participant. Your Ministry’s ship,” this to Nik, “will be decontaminated and returned, Nikolai.”
“You’re sheltering the Dhryn.” Mac chewed her lip and this notion for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Shelter? No. Your promise was to help the Dhryn survive.”
Mac could almost hear Brymn’s anxious questions. “How many of us must survive . . . what is our evolutionary unit?” “Ureif and I—we talked about a future for the species. I don’t know if that’s possible from one, Sinzi-ra.”
“We will search the derelict ships for more survivors. Regardless, there are means to promote diversity,” Anchen said with serene confidence. “Trust that we have seen the path taken by the Myrokynay and will tread more carefully, Mac. There is animosity toward the Dhryn, as well as gratitude for their help against the Ro. Her Glory wishes to continue to provide this help while we Sinzi undertake our portion.”
“Your portion?”
Nik spoke. “The S
inzi have begun the restoration of Myriam.”
Mac blinked. “Pardon?”
“Water is the first concern,” Anchen replied, perhaps thinking Mac’s shocked expression meant she required specifics. “We will work with experts on that world, including your colleagues. Technology will be in place soonest. The biology will follow apace. My understanding is that there have been caches of viable seeds recovered. Other species will have to be approximated or non-Dhryn substitutes found. The Dhryn will have a future, Mac. We participate in the promise.”
The regeneration of an entire world. Unensela would be ecstatic. They’d all be. Her entire team.
She’d have to keep in touch.
“That’s quite the promise,” Mac ventured, beginning to smile.
“It attracts our interest, too. And now, I believe you have something for me?”
Mac reached into the pocket of her lovely jacket—staff having realized the necessity of such things—and drew out the salmon carving. “For your collection.” She grinned at Nik, then offered it to the alien. “It’s a well-traveled fish.”
Anchen’s fingertip wrapped around the tiny thing. Her mouth trembled, then smiled. “I’m overwhelmed. It shall have a place of honor.”
Nik held out his hand. On the palm was a single lamnas. “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “This is the last one.”
Anchen didn’t take the ring. “Surely you still need it?”
Mac felt a stir of worry. “Why?” Then, she looked at Nik and knew. “You’re leaving.” The words seem to come from someone else.
He met her eyes. Seeing the remorse in his, she took an involuntary step back. “You’re leaving now. With Emily. To hunt the Ro.”
“It’s the job.”
“You don’t have to.” Her hands were fists. “Someone else can go.” Anchen looked from one Human to the other, but remained silent.
Nik closed the distance between them. “You could come with us, Mac.” Low and intense. “Help finish your work.”
“My work?” She paused in disbelief, then half smiled, as if to share a joke. “Don’t you remember? I study salmon, Mr. Trojanowski.”
Regeneration (Czerneda) Page 57