Migration (27 page)

Mac narrowed her eyes.
He was enjoying this.
“Of course. Sam, this is Kay and Aslith—”

“Fourteen,” that worthy interrupted. “Don’t waste more time. Sit. Eat. Coffee? Potcakes?”

Kay, putting out another setting, stopped and pointed his eyestalks at Fourteen. “I thought you said they were pancakes.”

“Idiot.”

Mac giggled and everything seemed to settle, including her stomach. Nik took a mug of coffee as he sat, with every appearance of needing it. The aliens continued to chatter between themselves.
Checking out the new arrival,
she decided.

The new arrival was doing the same. Playing the role of “Sam the landscaper” with consummate skill, Nik somehow ate his breakfast while gawking at everything the two aliens did, up to and including a small gasp when Kay upended the last of the syrup into his
douscent
.

Being more familiar with her guests, or rather their skewed sense of humor, Mac had her doubts about this strategy. Sure enough, when Fourteen and Kay finished their meal—predictably before either Human—the Myg stood and scowled quite fiercely at Nik. “I have no external genitalia.”

Fourteen’s timing was impeccable. Nik sputtered and almost choked on the mouthful he’d been about to swallow.

“My companion has no tact,” Kay said, his tone contrite. “What he means to say, with sincere regret and no disrespect to your species, is that neither of us are physically capable of satisfying your overwhelming urge to copulate. You’ll have to use Mac.”

Oh, she should have seen that coming
. Mac shook her head with appreciation. Nik, meanwhile, had an alarming gleam in his eye. “Sam’s too old,” she informed them calmly, before he had a chance to say anything.
And make it worse
. “He doesn’t have those urges anymore.”

Fourteen blinked, then broke into his barking laugh. Kay drummed the palms of his hands on the table—presumably his version.

Nik?

The look he sent Mac wasn’t official at all. In fact, it was the next best thing to ominous.

Mac grinned. “Hadn’t you better get to work, Sam?”

After the dishes were done, and Kay had gone to his bedroom for, as Fourteen put it, time to commune with his overstuffed
douscent,
Mac left the Myg rearranging porch furniture for some obscure reason and went to check on Nik.

Black flies lifted from every leaf as she left the porch steps, hovering in confusion an arm’s length away—aware she was close, but not knowing where. Mac waved at them cheerfully.
Technology wasn’t cheating
. “Go chew a moose,” she advised.

The top third of the path from the cabin was the most seriously eroded, convenient for Nik—since she assumed he’d want to overhear anything said on the porch. Mac edged her way alongside the deep crevices of exposed gravel and sand, keeping to root-tight soil. Unlike the coastal rain forest, here the dimly lit forest floor was a brown carpet of decaying needles, punctuated only by absurd balls of moss, vivid and vulnerable, and clumps of blushing mushrooms. If a tree fell, letting in the sun, the ground exploded with grasses, blueberry bushes, and eager saplings. If sun touched stone, the smallest cracks became lined with stubborn willow shrubs and packed with moss, its surface crusted with lichens.

The path bent sharply before the next drop; Mac heard the thud of his ax before she spotted him working just below.

Mac stopped, her real hand resting on the cool moist bark of the nearest tree. It wasn’t hot yet, but Nik had already stripped off shirt and tool belt. More confused black flies circled his head, hunting a landing. He was chopping back a huge, upthrust root to make room for a wider stair. The new timbers were stacked behind him—they’d been stored under the porch for years, waiting for someone with time and inclination.

For once, Mac didn’t wonder about Emily’s reaction to the easy play of muscles over his shoulders and back with each confident rise of the ax, or the sweat plastering hair to his forehead and neck, glowing on his skin in the morning light.

She felt her own.

How complicated brains made the basics,
she mused, putting her back against the tree, content to enjoy the moment before he noticed her.
Which biological drives remained untouched once you added intelligence and tossed in civilization? Breathing. Leaping away from flame.
Past that, even something so central to being Human as caring for a child evolved regulations and customs, habits and judgments.

Now, interaction with non-Human intelligence.
What effect did it have, blending biology so three species could share breakfast, and thousands could share space?

What were they missing about the Dhryn?
Mac frowned.

Nik chose that instant to look up and see her. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, shifting his grip on the ax.

Mac found a smile. “Just thinking. You’re doing a great job.”

He used his forearm to wipe his brow. “It’s a wonder you didn’t break your necks climbing this,” he commented, gesturing at the ground. This section did look worse in daylight, more dry gully than path.

“It keeps casual visitors down. Usually.”

Nik glanced up the slope, then lowered his voice slightly. “There’s nothing casual about those two. Fourteen’s been at the Gathering for several weeks. I’ve asked for background information, his area of expertise, but nothing’s come through yet. As for Kay—he’s a more recent arrival, for all they seem pals. Does he only have four eyestalks?”

“That’s all I’ve seen so far. Why? Do they come and go?”
Within that hair, it was possible
. Mac was quite taken with the notion. “How many should he have?”

“Four is normal,” Nik said disappointedly. “But your Kay is no ordinary messenger, judging from the clout he had in arranging this little ambush in the woods. I’d have thought he’d have more by now.”

“Care to explain that?”

“I—”

“Mac-ac-ac-ac!” They both looked downslope as the hail echoed across the lake and back. They could hear the rub of paddle against a canoe. “Mac-ac!!!”

“What? I don’t believe it. That’s Russell,” Mac said, recognizing the bellow. “Fourteen told me he’d called to cancel their trip last night,” she growled. “Should have done it myself. You’d better stay here,” she said as she clambered past Nik and jumped the timbers, heading for the cove. He started to follow her anyway, and she paused to look back at him. “He’ll know you aren’t local,” she warned.

“And not Sam Beckett.”

He knew?
Then she understood.
Damn Ministry dossiers.
“I had to pick a name,” Mac defended, grabbing a handful of cedar for balance. “There wasn’t time to consult.”

“You don’t let go of people, do you?”

“No.” Mac’s lips twisted. “Not first,” she admitted, beyond caring what that revealed about her. “Just keep busy and out of the way. Trust me. Russell won’t stay long.”

Another of those offhand salutes, but his hazel eyes were troubled. She felt them watching her as she went down to meet the canoe.

“Wendy Carlson,” Russell Lister introduced. The tall woman slogging through water to her ankles waved at Mac, then kept pushing her canoe up the beach. They’d brought the store’s two largest, Russell fully aware how much gear Kay and Fourteen had brought.

“Nice to meet you,” Mac said, taking the paddle Russell shoved at her. “But you’ve made the trip for nothing. They canceled their trip. I thought Fourteen—the Myg—called you last night about it.”

“He did,” Wendy said, then nodded at Russell. “Made us come anyway.”

Mac turned to him. “Why?”

His face went bright red. “No reason. You’re fine. I can see that. Plain as day. We’ll just head back now. Sorry to trouble you, Mac.” He reached for his paddle and Mac returned it with a puzzled frown.

Wendy, a friendly-faced young woman with a glorious mane of red hair blowing free in the wind, broke out laughing as she pulled the front of her canoe onto the sand. “Honestly, Russ, you’re hopeless. Don’t mind him, Mac. He expected to find you hanging from a tree in some alien bondage ritual. It was all Cat and I could do to stop him calling in the police last night to storm the place.”

“Bondage . . . ?” Mac repeated incredulously. “You’re kidding.”
But from Russell’s embarrassment, Wendy wasn’t.

Mac couldn’t decide if she should laugh or tear out her hair. On second thought, maybe she should put Fourteen and Russell in the same room for a while.
Or maybe not.
“Russell? What on Earth put that in your head? You were the one who dumped them on me in the first place.”

He rested the blade of his paddle on top of his boot, crossing his hands on the handle. “I know. Just made it worse, Mac. Worrying you’d come to harm because of me. Glad you’re okay.” He heaved a sigh, then shook his head. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“You should,” she agreed. “Alien bondage? You and Cat watch too many vids over the winter. I should send you some comparative anatomy texts.” She put her hand on top of his, pushing gently. “Thanks for checking.” Mac paused, then the light dawned.
Aliens,
she sighed to herself. “What exactly did Fourteen say to you?”

“That’s the thing.” Russell lowered his voice conspiratorially, although the three of them were the only beings in sight who’d conceivably hear. Wendy sent Mac a look of sympathy. “We weren’t in, so he’d left a message.”

Mac waited a long moment, swatting at an inquisitive—and precocious—deerfly. When Russell still didn’t speak, she burst out: “Well? What did the message say?”

Russell gave her a hurt look. “Give me a minute, Mac. I’m making sure I get it right.”

A spy on her path, aliens on her porch, and Russell taking his time.
Mac pinched the bridge of her nose to make sure she was awake. “The gist,” she suggested acidly, “will do.”

“I heard it,” Wendy volunteered. Ignoring Russell’s
humphf,
she shifted into a credible imitation of the Myg’s gruff voice. “ ‘The canoe trip is now irrelevant. The female Human meets our needs. Charge Kay triple and stay away. And send four more of your fine shirts to the address I left. Add them to Kay’s bill.’ ”

Mac winced.
Damn Myg sense of humor
. “Okay, I can see how you might take that the wrong way. My apologies, Russell.”

He rolled his eyes and didn’t move, doing his own credible impression of Man Terribly Wronged.
The one that never worked,
Mac remembered,
but always made Cat laugh and give him a hug.

She grinned. “Why don’t you and Wendy come up to the cabin for a drink?” she invited. “We can get your bill settled there.”

“Great!” Wendy smiled cheerfully and gave the older man a light push. “C’mon, Russ.”

Nik had taken her suggestion and made himself scarce, Mac noticed as they negotiated the path to the cabin, although she suspected he was capable of hiding behind the thinnest tree. She led the way up the steps and opened the porch door.

The two aliens had arranged three armchairs around a trio of mismatched tables this time, and were busy playing another card game. So far, the cards were safely in their hands or on a table.
The IU’s finest,
Mac grinned to herself.

“Mr. Russell! Mr. Wendy!” Kay greeted them warmly. “How are you this morning?”

“Fine, fine,” Russell got the words out somehow, though Mac could tell he was still trying to regroup. Admittedly, aliens playing cards was a far cry from what Russell had imagined he’d find here. She was sorely tempted to knock his and Fourteen’s heads together. Interspecies communication was difficult enough, without throwing in erotic and anatomically unsound vid dramas—
not to mention,
Mac fumed to herself,
brochures on human sexual behavior.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the trip?” Russell had continued. Not being privy to Mac’s thoughts, his voice was closer to normal. “It’s an amazing opportunity—”

“Irrelevant,” Fourteen interrupted. “You were told not to come. We have other plans. Be amazed without us.”