Regeneration (Czerneda) (59 page)

More data?
“Anything I should know?”

“Do you perform comparative studies on reconstructions of technological remains based on molecular analyses, Dr. Connor?”

“Every Tuesday,” she said, straight-faced.

The Grimnoii shook his head ponderously. “You are a tricky one.”

Since they met their escort to the meeting at this point, Mac was left to wonder if being “a tricky one” was a desirable reputation to have among well-armed aliens.

Their escort, a tall friendly woman named Elane, walked them to the by-now familiar tube door, coding the request to send them on their way. Another escort would await them at the other end.
Dump the tourists in the river and net them downstream.
Although Mac and Fy-Alpha would have fit within the same bolus, to her relief it had become practice for the weapon-festooned aliens to travel alone.

The door closed after the Grimnoii and it was Mac’s turn. “Have a nice trip,” Elane told her as she stepped inside.

“See you later.” Mac grinned, finding her balance despite the way her feet sank in at first.
Getting to be a pro at this.
The walls flowed together behind her and she turned to press her back against the far wall, waiting for the bolus to move. Today’s scent was fresh cut wood, most likely a crew suggestion.

She felt her body press into the yielding surface and relaxed, ready for the odd sensation as the bolus dropped away and flipped over.

Only knowing she had to be able to hear stopped the scream in her throat.

The bolus merrily swooped and whirled its way toward its destination.

Mac took small, careful breaths, forcing herself to think instead of panic.
Panic was so much easier.
She ran her eyes over the rest of the inner surface, studying every pink centimeter. There were no dimples or other marks to imply something else was along for the ride. She was alone.

“Bah.” She didn’t need false alarms.

At this rate, she’d be imagining she and Norris had brought the Ro’s walker to the
Uosanah
in the first place. That they’d flown together, its telltale sounds conveniently masked by argument and accordion.

That they were on the
Joy,
not the derelicts
.

“Stop that,” Mac told herself, aghast. The Gathering had developed ways to detect the Ro and their walkers; Dhryn fabric screens disabled them.

Screens that hadn’t worked on the
Uosanah.

“New rule,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “No thinking in a bolus.”

But she couldn’t hold back one more.

“Take a seat and wait over there, Dr. Connor. Thank you.”

Mac didn’t want to sit. She wanted nothing more than to jump up on the captain’s long polished table and shout for them all to listen.
Stamping her feet.

And having gained their attention, she wanted to insist this mass of civilized, responsible beings stop whatever they were arguing about—said argument having continued despite her arrival—and convince her she was wrong.

Mac sighed. Being a civilized and responsible being herself, she walked over to the row of chairs indicated, now lining the transparent wall overlooking the bridge, and sat beside Mudge.

She took a quick census. The large room was doing its best to hold over thirty individuals, and Humans, despite the furnishings, were in the minority. Herself, Mudge, a member of the crew by the door, and the captain, standing at the shoulder of the Sinzi-ra at the far end of the table.
A waste,
thought Mac, noticing the chairs suited very few of the posteriors presently planted in them. From where she sat, she could see a bench with cushions, but it was occupied by someone’s feet.

She felt sorry for Ureif, if he took his guests’ comfort as personally as Anchen had.

If this was a meeting, she had to wonder at the agenda. Several were speaking at once—
okay, with grunting and one off-key whistle
—and the room’s air was being over-scented with mint to compensate for odors it was never intended to handle.

Mudge tapped the back of her hand. “When did these arrive?” he whispered.

She could wish he was less observant—or had better timing.
“Ureif brought them.”

“And? Any news?” His anxious whisper attracted frowns or their equivalent from those nearest. She leaned over and put her lips to his ear. “Not now, Oversight. What’s going on?”

If she’d hoped for reassuring calm, it wasn’t here. The voices and body language of all species in the room showed tension, if not worse.

He returned the favor, ducking and twisting his head. “There’s been an incident reported, Norcoast. The Frow home world, Tersisee.”

Oh, no.
Mac looked for, and found, the Frow.
Se
Lasserbee and his lackeys were backed firmly—and securely—against the far wall. From the grips they’d latched on one another, no one was going to fall alone.

“The Trisulians,” she whispered.

Representatives of that species sat to the left of Sinzi-ra Ureif, bodies and limbs wrapped in red leather, paired eyestalks fixed on the Frow. Their broad, haired, and faceless heads revealed nothing to a Human observer. The weapons slung on their backs gave reasonable indication these weren’t diplomats or scientists. In fact, few here looked obviously academic.
Not that she’d any idea what that meant once you left bipedal motion behind.

The purple beadlike tip of the uppermost eyestalk on the nearest Trisulian abruptly swiveled to point at Mac. The lower, being male and blind in this light, remained lidded.

As proof she wasn’t the only one who noticed such things, everyone in the room fell silent and turned to look at Mac.

Moments like this,
she thought glumly,
were why she really hated meetings.

“Dr. Connor.” Ureif rose, fingers lifting. Fy was at his right. “On behalf of everyone here, as well as the Inner Council of the Interspecies Union, may I express our gratitude for your courage and quick thinking. You have provided us all—”
did she imagine “all” was stressed,
“—with our first advantage against the Myrokynay, at great risk to yourself. Thank you.”

Mudge elbowed her ribs and Mac shot to her feet. “Any of you would have done the same,” she blurted.

“Not me. I’d have expired on the spot,” rumbled a well-dressed Nerban, waving his proboscis at her, his single eye almost closed.

“Tell her! Tell Dr. Connor!”
Se
Lasserbee shouted, rocking his trio of support. Sparks flew, and those beings in range of the Frow moved away. From the look on the captain’s face, she wasn’t the only one hoping the ventilation system could keep up with the Nerban’s sweat.
The things one had to worry about around aliens.
“Tell her!” the Frow shrieked. One clawed hand daringly freed itself to point at the Trisulians. “Confess your evil to our Hero!”

“It is common knowledge,” said the Trisulian who’d looked at Mac, “that Frow are inclined to paranoia, particularly in their dealings with other species. They scream collusion over regular freight runs; now they rant about innocent tourists. We have, Sinzi-ra, matters of
nimscent
—of future significance—to discuss.”

Tourists?
Mac wondered if she’d heard the right word.

“Villains!”

“Dr. Connor,” the Trisulian continued smoothly, her—
his,
Mac corrected, counting eyestalks—powerful voice overriding the now-incoherent protests of
Se
Lasserbee. “It has come to our attention you may have news of our liaison with your Ministry, Cinder. We are most anxious to know why her communiqués have stopped prematurely.”

She bet they were.
Mac’s hands wanted to curl into fists. She put them behind her back, rubbing her thumb against the rings on her fingers.

“The only matter before us is whether your entire misbegotten species should be sanctioned at the highest level!”
Se
Lasserbee roared. “The highest level!”

For improper tourism?
She knew better than to hope that was all it was.

Since the aliens were again shouting at one another, Mac turned to Mudge, standing beside her. “What happened?” she whispered.

“The Trisulians are accused of planting transmitters on Tersisee. Some disguised as harmless ornaments, others left hidden in tourist areas. When the Frow found them and began destroying them, the remainder activated.” Mac gasped and Mudge shook his head gently. “It’s all right. They were removed in time. But their Sinzi-ra did confirm they were sending the Ro signal—the one that summoned the Dhryn to Sol System. Outside the IU Consulate on Earth, only the Trisulians have that technology.”

Mac stared at the three Trisulians, trying to imagine how they could sit there and protest. These had to have been senior staff from the warship at Haven—perhaps the commander. Surely they would have known about the attempt to eradicate the Frow.

She narrowed her eyes. It was difficult to be sure, given the abundant thick strands of red and gray flowing over their shoulders and chests, but she thought the upper third of their torsos were enlarged, beginning above the opening to their stomach, the
douscent
.

More to the point, territorial.

She’d seen the mammoth Trisulian ship, sitting like a boulder in the flow to and from the gate. They weren’t alone—every species in this room represented another ship, had another viewpoint. Mac took a step forward and raised her voice one notch above the rest.
Helped having spent summers talking over the roar of a river.
“Have you compared our Ro walker to the one found on Earth?”

Another pause, this one incredulous. Then, “What did you say?”

She didn’t bother looking for the speaker; she kept her eyes on the Sinzi. “This is the group studying the corpse I brought back, isn’t it? Surely you’ll want to check it against the Ministry’s specimen.” Mac also ignored the strangled
harrumph
from behind her—she wasn’t planning to explain how she knew. For that matter, she and Mudge could be completely wrong. For now, she had the rest of the room thinking about something else, something that faced them all.
Good enough.
“Unless of course you’ve started exploring the remaining Dhryn ships,” she went on, taking advantage of their silence, “and found more for yourselves.”

Ureif’s red-coated fingers gleamed as they made a complex knot in front of his chest.

That one meant “difficulty,”
Mac judged, and wasn’t surprised. She’d guessed the result of her explorations would be a standstill, with everyone reconsidering the stakes. The newspackets and couriers must be flying through the gate.

Speaking of messages
. . . Fourteen should have voiced an opinion by now. She tried to see past those in front of her, searching for him without success.

The Sinzi-ra spoke. “A helpful suggestion, Dr. Connor. We will obtain the required data.”

“With due respect, Sinzi-ra,” this from the Nerban. “We haven’t settled where the examination will be conducted. Given the Humans possess their own specimen, why should they keep this new one?”

A few other suggestions were shouted or grunted. The Sinzi-ra unraveled his fingers and lifted their tips to his shoulders. “This is no longer a Human ship, but a declared consulate of the Interspecies Union. As such, it is the recognized venue for research and discourse that may impact more than one species along the transects. Do you wish to petition the Inner Council for a change to that policy? I will entertain a vote.”

Checkmate,
Mac thought with admiration.

The Sinzi-ra’s offer produced, if not a mellower mood, then a more thoughtful one. The Frow, while continuing to glare across the table at the Trisulians—something they did quite effectively, since it involved lowering a shoulder ridge and extending their necks—stopped sparking. The Trisulians, for their part, oriented their eyestalks on Ureif, as if setting themselves apart from the rest of the room.

Mac was grateful for eyes that weren’t so blatantly obvious.

The discussion resumed, this time about establishing an agenda to continue various aspects of the business at hand. Mac and Mudge sat down again.

A
harrumph
. She glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Mac frowned.
She knew that tone.
It was the one Mudge used to make her think she’d won an argument, when she hadn’t come close. “Someone had to say something.”