Its feathers appeared to be white, but she could not be certain because of the protective elements. The chest and head protective gear glowed a faint green, but when the big bird moved, the color shifted to a pale gold. There was a seal affixed to the breastplate, that was too small to see, but she had a sense of knowing what it looked like—no, she could not go there. Not now. Focus.
The alien lifted its head even higher and studied each of them. If it blinked, she missed it.
“Fla…” Gessner coughed once and then tried again. “Flamingos?”
“I thought flamingoes were pink,” Coop objected.
“Their color is determined by their diet,” Gessner said, softly, but with much awe. He rolled forward on his feet as if he wanted to get a closer look. Coop grabbed his arm.
“Nope.”
“Oh, right.”
The…flamingo repositioned itself to one side of the opening, making way for another one to enter, one that appeared to be almost identical in appearance. This one took the position on the other side of the opening.
“Marines,” Coop murmured.
The doctors gave him an odd look, but Arian understood the reference and almost smiled. They did indeed have the manner of an advance guard. More entered until three guards stood on each side in a line facing them, their aspect ceremonial, but also protective. There was a moment of silence, then the line of flamingoes let out chanting croaks, their wings flapping. Under the wings the feathers were white, but the tops flickered with little flashes of gold. If there was something protective on the wings, it was highly flexible in nature.
The flapping created a wind in the space, one that tugged at her cap, almost lifting it from her head. She grabbed the brim, holding it—and her ground, as the heavily scented air rushed past her face.
The sound was so loud, it hurt her ears, but to her relief, it stopped as abruptly as it had begun. In perfect synch, each bird lowered their necks until their beaks were aligned with the center of their chests. They all lifted the same leg off the floor, the angle of the bend the same height.
There was a long, not comfortable pause, then another stir in the opening and two more flamingoes entered.
These two were different in coloring, size, and gear. Their beaks were all black and their black, beady eyes were surrounded by crimson red. Blood red. Somewhat smaller than the guards, one was vibrantly pink along the back and wings, the other a softer pink with more gold and white mingling in its feathers. Both wore protective gear similar to the guards, but much more ornate. The pink flamingo’s gear was predominantly black and gold, the other’s red and gold. The seals on their breastplates were bigger but looked to be similar to the guards, though Arian could not be certain. Once again she felt that flash of a forgotten memory. It made no sense, but not much had since she lifted off from Bosakli, she thought a bit wryly.
These two new birds stopped just before becoming even with their guards, their heads lifting high for a long time, then slowing sinking in a move that had an element of ceremony to it. It could be a form of greeting, she supposed. She had been briefed by Derwent before this mission, so she knew it was unwise to assume these aliens actions meant the same as they would to a human. Unfortunately humanity was her only frame of reference.
She was not certain, but it seemed that the black and gold bird studied each of them more intently than the other one. None of their eyes tracked the way a human’s would, so she was not sure. She felt herself sway slightly. She softened her knees, and it helped, but it also appeared to attract the attention of the red and gold bird.
Did this ceremony or whatever it was, require stillness? Were they being measured in some way, judged by what they did or did not do?
Finally, the apparently dominant flamingo turned its head to its companion, ruffling its wings as if impatient. Don’t assume, she reminded herself. When the silence stretched to the point of screaming, the black and gold bird emitted a series of raucous honks. It was not as painful as the guards had sounded, but went on for a very long time. Perhaps their language required many…sounds. She hoped it was not too long for Rhubreak to translate. She sensed unease from her dragon, sensed the effort it took him to process this communication.
Coop glanced down at him. Well?
It is not enough to translate what I believe are the words. I need to understand their intent.
What troubles you? Arian halfway expected him to respond with everything, but he did not.
The first part was a greeting, but then…it changed. Our coming has disturbed them in some way. I think they called it an omen or harbinger. I am not certain.
An omen? Coop sounded puzzled. Did they say about what?
The closest I am able to translate is ‘the munshi.’
What’s a munchie? Coop asked, before Arian could.
Munshi. If my translation is correct. I have only found two languages with a similar word. In Garradian it means “one who knows.” Or “one who comes.” On Earth it seems to be a clerk, at least that is one of the meanings. I could do better if I had access to our ship’s database
I thought you said it wasn’t Google? Coop protested.
It is designed to assist in situations such as this one.
That did not seem to fit with the ship’s mission of collection, but perhaps the mission sometimes required first contact situations—only if this were first contact, then there would be nothing in the database, would there? He hadn’t said first contact. He’d said “situations such as this.”
She looked up and found the red and gold bird looking at her. One who comes or one who knows. Which was it? For some reason she did not understand, she felt certain the word meant both. Who do they think is the omen? But she knew before Rhubreak answered her.
You.
Arian didn’t flinch. She knew, oh, not what they thought she knew, but she felt their belief that she was this munshi or whatever. That was strange enough but at some level…she believed it, too.
The black and gold bird honked and flapped its wings.
What was that about? Arian resisted the urge to retreat a step. Or flee.
They desire an answer.
To what?
The question.
What’s the question? Coop asked.
Arian would very much like to know that, too.
* * *
Questions. Again.
Answers can be interesting, Rhubreak had told her. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now here she was on an alien planet being asked to answer a question that she did not know. What did they want? What did they think she knew?
Weariness almost made her stagger. She had not slept much since she left Bosakli. Her mind would not stop circling all the things she did not know, things that she felt she should know, that she felt she needed to know right now. Or yesterday. A clock ticked inside her head, but ticking down to what?
The two doctors stirred restively. They had been left out of the discussion if one could call it that. An answer. They needed, they wanted, an answer. She needed to provide one that wouldn’t get them all killed. Or one that wouldn’t cut them off from the assistance they needed so desperately. For some reason, this made her think of an Enforcer interview. There she had known the answers they wanted, but the questions always started with careful formality. It was a form that was also used on the rare occasions when they met with someone outside their tight community. Meetings with strangers were always dangerous. For some reason remembering this steadied her.
She lifted her arm in the traditional greeting, the one she’d used on her first meeting with Coop’s Colonel—for a few seconds she was distracted with wondering why hadn’t she done this with Coop? But she pushed this thought away. She could not afford to be distracted.
“I thank you for allowing us entry into this place.” She dipped her head and then lowered her arm, waiting for Rhubreak to translate this for her. The truth shall make you free. How did the truth work here? Rhubreak could be wrong, she told herself, without beli
eving it. She might not be the omen.
You’re doing fine, Coop’s voice was distinctly different from Rhubreak’s and a cool balm for her jangled nerves. No one is shooting at us. Yet. See if you can get some give and take, get them talking or honking or whatever. Maybe they’ll give you a clue to the question.
All right. She inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower, seeking for her calm place. It felt seasons, not days since she’d needed that place.
Keep it simple. Very simple. It will provide less opportunity for misunderstanding, Rhubreak advised her.
Right.
Simple. “Our ship was attacked.” She paused, waiting for some sign of a response. The two speaker flamingoes looked at one another, then returned their attention to her. “A wormhole opened. It pulled us here. It was an accident.”
The silence turned tense, and her companions all turned to look at her. It was only then that she realized that the series of croaks and honks had emerged from her mouth. She stared at the speaker flamingo, her eyes so wide, they felt dry.
I wondered when you’d realize you are speaking, er, bird. Perhaps he felt her sudden panic, because he added, as near as I can ascertain, you are better at bird than I am.
The angle of the speaker flamingoes heads changed. It could have been a sign of interest. Or disbelief. She’d spoken the truth—in their language, she hoped—but would they recognize truth? Could they read a human?
Let them ponder what you have shared, and we will see if they believe you or understand what you said.
How could they understand what she did not? For a second disorientation threatened as two…views opened for her. She swayed, and the red and gold bird gave the guard an order to activate…something. The guard on one end moved to one of the raised walls and did something that caused two wide blocks to rise from the floor behind them, stopping at the right position to be seating for people in their height range. It was angled so that the blocks formed a shallow “v.” The red and gold flamingo waved its wings.
Please to sit.
“We thank you for this comfort.” Arian turned to her companions, “We can sit down.”
The presence of this type of seating would seem to indicate prior contact with humans, Rhubreak said.
Not our kind of humans, Coop objected, it’s foxtrot hard.
With this warning, Arian sat with care. It was very hard. Was that what foxtrot meant?
It’s an expletive wrapped up in a brown wrapper. Coop sounded apologetic and perhaps embarrassed.
This explanation did not supply clarity, but she had other concerns. Sitting on the block, her feet side by side, she was pulled into the not-so-distant past on Bosakli and the pre-pact bonding visits. It carried her back to being judged, not for who she was, but by a measure outside her control. At least Trajan Bester had not looked like a bird. Though she might have liked him better as a bird.
Despite the strangeness and discomfort, she still preferred this to what she’d faced back there. Though, she’d thought Bosakli the ultimate in a closed off society. Compared to this species, her people were overly expressive.
What their side did not know could fill this system and beyond. If there were body clues from these avians, she could not read them.
Perspective, Rhubreak said, amused, is everything.
It’s not everything if there’s not a song about it.
This interjection from Coop made it hard for Arian not to chuckle.
Allowing them to seat themselves might indicate an easing of tension. Or they had noticed she was tired and needed to sit down.
“What are they saying?” Dr. Derwent asked in a low voice.
“Later, doc,” Coop told him.
The two speaker birds nodded. They each folded one leg up and silence reigned for some time. She didn’t know if they were thinking or communicating with someone else. It was interesting that they were able to mind talk like Rhubreak—and troubling. How much could they “hear?”
Finally, the black and gold bird ruffled ever so slightly. “You are lost.”
Rhubreak must have given Coop the translation because he stirred restively.
“We’re not—” He stopped. “Maybe we’re a little lost.”
“All who come here are lost,” the black and gold bird said.
“We’d like to get found,” Coop said, and then looked surprised. “Did I just speak…”
Almost smiling, Arian shook her head. “You spoke your language, not theirs.”
“What’s going on, Captain?” Dr. Gessner asked.
Coop waved Gessner to silence again, his gaze intent on the birds.
The bird turned its head to one side. “Many have come here through the anomaly.”
“And how many of them leave?” Coop asked.
The silence that followed this question was troubling. Both birds ignored Coop, staring at Arian.
“Will you answer the question?”
Arian wanted to protest. She still didn’t know the question, but she did know the correct answer. It welled up from some place deep inside. She stood in a desert, the ground parched and pale. In the distant were high, misty covered mountains with spouts of steam dotting the landscape. The dry wind lifted her hair and she tasted heat and metal on her tongue. She looked the other direction, and the sky was filled with a moving cloud—one moving against the wind. Not clouds. Birds. Fear rose in her throat. She turned back and now she stood on a rock above a lake, one that was red and white and pink and gold, shifting as if it were alive. It was alive. The sound of their agitation filled with air. And in danger from the…Mycterians. In that place, she also spoke to them in their language. Because she was the munshi. The omen.
She rose to her feet until she was eye-to-eye with this…Phoenicopterian. She’d helped them before. She could not see all that happened the last time, but she knew one thing for sure. She knew the pledge she’d made then, one she needed to make now. “Yes, I will help you.”
19
“What did you just say?” hissed Derwent before Coop could ask.
Arian looked very pale, facing the line of birds, but her jaw was stubbornly set as if the birds had challenged her in some way. She ignored Derwent, her gaze steady on what appeared to be the main bird facing her, the black eye surrounded by bloody red watching her without—as near as he could tell—blinking. Okay, there might have been something kind of like a blink, but it was fast and seemed to come from up, or from top and bottom, rather than a lid. Wasn’t sure why he wanted them to blink, well, okay, he did know that. Whoever blinked first was in coyote position. A sign of giving a little ground. No sign of that here. He’d been almost nose-to-nose with some scary people, but this was his first time facing down birds. All the usual ways he figured out who was friend or foe didn’t work here. If there was an expression in those eyes, he couldn’t find it.
“Come.” The black and gold bird turned, followed by the other one, then three of the guards followed them, the other three formed a line that seemed to be a rear guard.
“Did it just—” Gessner asked.
“Yes,” Arian said.
Coop looked at her, sensing she’d changed again. She shifted her shoulders, much like he sometimes did before going into battle or a fight, then started after them. She didn’t move like she had when he first met her, and not like her recent attempts to mimic military moves. This movement was different, purposeful, and confident. It might have been sexy, too. He glanced down at the dragon.
“Is she all right?” he asked him, forgetting to think it.
The dragon’s beard flared black. We must follow them or be left here.
Coop hesitated, but then Arian paused in the opening and looked back at him, her brows lifted.
“The opening will close. You will not be able to follow.”
Her tone was neutral, her gaze, too. She didn’t ask, and he felt a gulf opening between them, one that had nothing to do with this mission. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t know what losing her meant, did
n’t want to think about it because he was a guy and he sucked at feelings and crap. So he didn’t think. He shifted his shoulders and started toward her. Heard the scrape of claws as the dragon came, too.
“Captain?” Derwent sounded startled.
“Come or stay. The offer is time limited.”
The last three guards were already moving forward, coming between him and the two docs. There was a long pause, then the scuffle of footsteps that meant both docs had decided to come. Coop glanced back in time to see the opening close behind both men, close enough they jumped forward. The guards paused, for the two docs to move ahead, then closed in behind them. Coop picked up his pace, pulling even with Arian.
“Are you okay?” He kept his voice low, his gaze darting to the line of guards just ahead of her.
She glanced at him, her lips curving up a bit, making her more like herself.
“I am well.”
“So what just happened?”
She frowned. “I am not sure.”
“You do realize you are not empowered to commit the Expedition to anything,” Derwent said, his voice low but frustrated. Apparently, he’d picked up his pace, too and was now right behind them.
She glanced back. “I spoke only for myself, and they know this.”
“What kind of help do they want from you?” Coop asked.
She half shook her head. “I do not know. It seemed urgent that I agree to help them.” She looked rueful. “It was a strange sensation.” She touched her heart with her hand.
“Do you think they did something to you?” If she was being influenced by them…
“What do you mean?” Now she looked puzzled.
“Well, mind control or something. You were speaking bird, then you weren’t, then I—” he’d understood them at one point and thought they’d understood him.
She frowned, as she considered this. “They do not control me. Indeed, I feel more self-directed than I have for most of my life.” Then she smiled ruefully. “But perhaps I would not know.”
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