Migration (59 page)

Sure enough, the Dhryn coughed.

She slapped her hand over his mouth and pressed it there as hard as she could, shouting herself.

“Stop,
Lamisah
! He wasn’t hurting me!”

The sideways figure-eight pupils of the Dhryn dilated, as if to encompass her so close. His three hands had automatically grabbed to stop her from colliding with him. She winced at their tight hold—
there’d be bruises
—but didn’t release her own. She said more calmly: “It’s okay, Vessel.”

She could feel his muscles ease. The convulsive retch already underway subsided. Still, enough acid spurted between the Dhryn’s lips to dissolve most of the pseudoskin from the palm of her hand.
So much for stirring acid,
Mac thought inanely. She was careful not to touch any of it with clothing or flesh as she let go and backed away.

“Careful!” Mac admonished as an equally powerful Human hand took hold of her and pulled.
More bruises,
she thought fatalistically. She held her acid-coated fingers as far from Nik as she could. Drips hit the carpet, sending up smoky plumes. “It would help,” she snapped, as he released her, “if you both calmed down.” For the benefit of watchers, she repeated it in the
oomling
tongue.

Almost casually, Nik dropped something from his palm into his pocket. His face was pale and set; a muscle jumped along his jaw.
He’d been about to kill the Vessel,
she realized numbly.
To save her.

“Don’t get close.” His warning to Mac; he should have listened.
She could see the bleak awareness in his eyes, the shame of letting his emotions make a choice. They both knew the Dhryn had to live, even if it killed her before his eyes.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again
. She saw that, too, and acknowledged it with a half smile.

“
Lami-sah
. . .” The alien’s voice was weak. Mac turned even as he stumbled. Nik reached out to support him before he fell. The Dhryn flinched, but couldn’t avoid him, letting the Human guide him to a sitting posture.

“Nik meant no harm to me, Vessel. None to you. Please. Don’t worry.” Mac used her real hand to stroke the Vessel’s forehead, feeling the shivers coursing through his body. A body, she realized, that had been through a great deal, especially for a Dhryn as old as Parymn must have been. She looked at Nik; “He needs rest.”

Their eyes met over the Dhryn’s blood-slicked back. “So do you,” Nik agreed. “And to clean up that hand. I’ll give you both as much as I can. Half an hour, hopefully more.”

“ ‘A Dhryn is robust, or a Dhryn is not,’ ” she quoted, giving Nik a nod of agreement.

But, as she listened to the Vessel’s labored breathing, Mac hoped she was wrong.

- Encounter -

That which is Dhryn accepts the Great Journey. That which is Dhryn must
move
. It is the Way.

The path changes more often now. It is the Way as well.

As before, the Call is heard. Irresistible . . . dominant . . .
urgent
.

That which is Dhryn must obey.

It is survival.

“
I
TOLD YOU to run,
Lamisah
. Why did you stay?” Kindly. As though fond.

Those had been the words.

She’d answer, but her mouth was sealed.

She’d run, but her limbs were wrapped in a net. Mac struggled, feeling the bonds around her tightening, feeling them
burn
. Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of helpless rage.

“You never learn, do you, Mac?”
Emily
. “Trust. Friendship. Coin of the realm, dear girl. Nothing more. Survival’s what counts.”

Hard to breathe. Mac lunged out with her bound feet, trying to find a target.

“Getting late, Mac. You really should run. It’s the only choice you have.”

Light, sudden, blinding, from everywhere at once. Reflecting from the hard silver of tiny ships. Thousands upon thousands.

Mac fought for freedom even as the rain began to fall, even as her feet dissolved, her legs, her . . .

“I told you to run,
Lamisah
.”

Jerking awake, Mac rested her forehead against the back of the Sinzi shower, letting the water from three jets pound her shoulder blades, letting the steam and roar keep the universe at bay for a few minutes more.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Even less to dream.

Mac turned, letting the water hit her face. The Dhryn’s blood and acid was gone; the nightmare wouldn’t wash away.
Something she knew full well.

“Time to get back, Em,” she said, licking drops from her lips as she hit the control to start the dryer. “Wonder what time it is.” Late, for sure.

Nik and Sing-li had brought her here, back to the Atrium. A swift, dizzying ride up three steps on a platform, a choice of rooms to suit any body plan. Staff, of course, ready to offer her whatever she might need. A jelly-chair, a table with sandwiches, juice. This shower.
She wasn’t the only one who worked late down here,
Mac thought. She’d spend some time huddled over her workscreen, trying to catch up while the Dhryn rested, listening to notes from her team. When she’d begun to feel sleepy, she’d stopped trying to pull sense from fragments of disparate information, and went for a shower to wake up.

Dry, she pulled on her clothes. The staff had performed their discreet magic again. There’d been blood on the beautiful jacket, acid damage to a sleeve, but while she’d showered, it had been replaced by another, this time red. What mattered was her imp was in its pocket. Mac dropped into the chair, pushing still-damp curls from her forehead, and checked for messages.

Nothing new
. “I’ve been cut off, have I?” she muttered, closing her ’screen and pocketing the device. “We’ll see about that—in the morning.”

One more minute
. Mac leaned her head back, careful to keep her eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, breathing slow and steady through her nostrils.

Not surprisingly, given her past experience with such things, that was when a quiet knock sounded on the door, followed by the door cracking open. “Mac?”

Sing-li. Doubtless looming outside since she’d arrived
. “She’s not here,” she told him.

“You dressed?” he asked, coming in anyway. He’d changed into full armor, but left his visor open.

It let her see his face, now set in sober lines, so she swallowed what she’d intended to say. She sat up. “What is it?”

“The Sinzi-ra wants your report—now.”

“Here?” Mac lifted her eyebrows.

“No. There’s a meeting of the Admin council for the Gathering underway. The major players. She wants you to report to all of them.”

“I hate meetings,” Mac informed him.
Especially when she didn’t know what to say.

Sing-li’s teeth flashed in a quick smile. “I remember. But I can’t see you skipping out of this one, Mac. We’d better hurry. They’re waiting for you.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Oh, Mac? Nik sent you this.” Sing-li held out a long supple glove. Mac took it with a nod, pulling it over the now-exposed workings of her left hand and wrist.

As gestures went,
she thought with an inward smile,
it wasn’t bad.

Her guide led the way. Rather than a platform, he took her via three lifts to the level with the door they’d used, then through that door to the corridor. Once there, Mac hesitated outside the Dhryn’s room. “I should check on—things.”

Sing-li shook his head. “He’s asleep—or unconscious. Nik said to tell you you’ll be notified.”

Answering the question of whether her companion was kept fully briefed,
Mac told herself.

They took the door to the next corridor where two guards, neither Human, now stood watch on either side of the entrance to the tank room. Mac restrained a shudder as she passed it, moving closer to Sing-li. They turned right with the corridor.

Another series of plain doors. The place was a maze of featureless white.
Or was it?
“Just a minute,” Mac said, stopping. “I want to try something.” She reached into her bag and took out her imp.

“Mac, you don’t want to be late. There’s no time for this.”

“There’s always time for a quick experiment, Sing-li,” she assured him absently, setting up her ’screen to show a chromatic display of the walls in front of them. With a slide of her fingers, Mac removed the filtering from the display.

Silvery ghosts, representing ultraviolet reflections, appeared over the normal image. The white walls were aglow with symbols and images. Portraits, schematics, a few rather nice landscapes. And each door in sight had a label. Not Instella, but definitely a script. “Thought so,” Mac exclaimed with satisfaction. This was only an approximation.
One thing for sure
. The world of the Sinzi and her staff was neither plain nor white.

Sing-li stepped into the area she was imaging. His initials glowed on his chest and Mac nodded her understanding. “I take it the Sinzi-ra doesn’t like faceless strangers.”

“Bad as you, Mac,” he agreed, grinning. “As for the walls? You could have asked for a look.” He tapped his visor meaningfully with a finger.

Mac put away her imp. “I prefer to experiment,” she informed him. “Which one?” She waved at the doors.

It was the third. Sing-li opened it for her, but remained outside as she stepped through, taking his post.

“Greetings, Mac,” from Anchen, rising from her seat at the head of a long, well-populated table.

There was always,
Mac thought glumly,
a long, well-populated table
.

The Sinzi’s fingers indicated the position opposite her, at the far end. There was a second empty seat, halfway up one side.
Neutral turf
. Mac eyed it longingly, but obediently took her place at center stage.

She’d like a moment to take notes on who sat where. Hard enough to keep twenty-five Humans straight, let alone assorted sapients. Her eyes went to Nik, at Anchen’s left. He gave her a comforting look.
One ally
. He faced the N’Not’k, Genny P’tool. Mac spared an instant to wonder if she’d try footsies with him under the table.
Probably not. The ambience was pretty far into stress range.
Bernd Hollans sat midway down the right side, facing the empty seat. An Imrya, likely the one who’d accompanied Anchen to Parymn’s cell, was at his side, taking notes already. No other Humans, not that Mac expected more. Two beings in full environment suits. She’d love a closer look, but they were near Nik.

Cinder sat to Mac’s left.
Perhaps another ally. Perhaps a complication
. Mac gave her a nod and received one in return.

The rest were strangers. She had to assume they represented the innermost circle of the Interspecies Union. Those who had set up this Gathering.

Those would decide the fate of the Dhryn.