Migration (67 page)

“
R
EPEAT THAT!” “All enemy vessels have ceased movement toward Earth, sir. They’re maintaining a fixed position relative to the gate.”

Captain Anya Lemnitov chewed her lower lip. An old habit. “Nav. Time to intercept.”

“Thirty minutes at our present speed, sir. If they keep sitting there like ducks.”

“Bloody big ducks.”

Lemnitov grinned without humor at her Weapons officer. “Then I hope you’ve an appropriate solution planned, Mr. Morris.”

“Of course, sir.” But she wasn’t surprised when her old friend came to stand beside her, dropping his voice for her ears only. “It’d be easier if they were our usual troublemakers. Smugglers. Insurance defrauders. Lost tourists.”

“Sol’s been lucky,” she countered. “Boring. Peaceful. Maybe we were due for a shake-up. We’ll do okay.
Tripoli
hasn’t let us down before.”

“What worries me are the claims that each of those ships can split into hundreds, maybe thousands more. If they do, well, we can’t stop more than a fraction of them, Captain. And the Dhryn don’t care about casualties—only their target.”

Target?
Home to most of those here. She was Mars-born, but had an apartment in Prague that two cats and a lover kept warm. “We do our part; others do theirs,” she reminded him. “Confirm ready status to fleet command.”

“Captain?” Uncertain, from the com tech.

Morris and the captain exchanged looks. “What is it?” she asked.

“Incoming message from command, sir. Orders—sir, we’re ordered to hold position as well. No hostile moves.”

Lemnitov stood up. “Do they say why? Belay that,” she grunted. “They never say why.”

“That’s crazy! We can’t just leave them there, Captain.”

“Calm down.”

“What if they split—getting moving before we can? Do you realize how many would slip past us? Reach Earth?”

The entire bridge hushed, everyone listening, every eye on the captain. Lemnitov deliberately took her seat. “Settle back, folks,” she ordered, crossing her legs and getting comfortable. “We’re parking.”

But whoever had ordered Sol’s defenses to stand down before the nightmare that was the Dhryn had better be right.

“
I
WILL HAVE ORDER and attention.”
How did she do it?
Mac wasn’t bad at harnessing a room, although it usually involved shouting or leaping on a tabletop.
Brandishing something unlikely helped.
The Sinzi-ra simply spoke those words, in her quiet voice, and everyone presently bickering, stopped.

It didn’t mean they suddenly agreed with one another,
Mac realized, surveying the room from her seat, this time to the left of Anchen herself. Promotion or protection?
Both likely applied
. From what she’d heard so far, more than a few of those here felt the Dhryn had stopped by coincidence and that they should continue all efforts to contact the Ro.

Others, now believing the Ro were as much a menace as the Dhryn, and one capable of breaching the walls at that, wanted the Sinzi-ra to abandon the consulate and run for safety.

That left,
Mac counted in her head: herself, Nik, Hollans—who’d proved himself, as far as she was concerned—and the Sinzi-ra herself. Hollans, meanwhile, had upset the majority here by ordering Earth’s defenses not to engage the Progenitors’ ships, the situation, he’d insisted, being too volatile.

So the only thing they’d agreed on to this point was that the Dhryn wouldn’t stay cooperatively still much longer.

Mac yawned, covering her mouth with her gloved hand.
Which,
she sniffed,
smelled like dead fish
. The staff had done wonders cleaning the corridor; they could give lessons to those students prone to fish tank disasters.
Always a few
.

“We are in crisis,” Anchen continued. “The IU has sent urgent messages to all members warning them not to activate any signal or device provided by the Myrokynay. We have not—yet—extended this warning to avoiding the Myrokynay themselves,” this with an elegant wave of her fingers that managed to convey informed caution.

Mac shifted unhappily in her seat, but didn’t say anything.
One problem at a time,
Nik had told her on the way to this meeting.
One enemy
.

As far as she was concerned, there was only one.
But,
Mac thought thankfully, stifling another yawn,
she didn’t have to make such decisions.

“We have also made it clear that the transects must remain open, regardless of the risk of attack. Our connections to one another are not only defense, but lines of safety. We will resolve this problem as a group, for the good of all.”

“What about the Dhryn?”

“Ah. For this we must turn to Mac.”

Mac, well into a very pleasant “not asleep, really, resting my eyes” daze, snapped back to attention at her name. “We do?” she said blankly.

“While not all here agree, you have proved to me that your doubts about the Ro were well-founded. Their motives remain unclear and potentially antagonistic; their methods are not those of civil discourse.”
Now there was an understatement
. “However, now I must call upon your other area of expertise, Mac.”

“It is time to share with all of you that we have, in this building, a representative sent by the Dhryn.” Even the Sinzi-ra had to wait out the round of outcries this created, finally holding up one finger for order. “He was unwell. There were doubts he would live. Thanks to Mac, who knew this individual and is fluent in his language, he is recovering. More to the point, he presents us with an opportunity to negotiate with the Dhryn Progenitors threatening this world.”

That silenced everyone—who then turned to direct their appropriate visual sensory organ or organs at a certain weary salmon researcher.

Might as well paint a target on her forehead,
Mac decided. Given the worried look Nik sent her, the same thought had occurred to him.

Everyone, including the Sinzi-ra, waited for her to speak.
She’d much rather join Emily in a drugged stupor—sleep for a day would be nice.

Mac swallowed and said the only thing she could: “I’m not a negotiator, Sinzi-ra, but I’m willing to try.”

Nik stopped her in front of the Dhryn’s door, where they were shielded from sight by a rather reassuringly protective clump of Ministry agents.
Most of whom she knew by name
. “Here.” He held out a loaded syringe.

“Why did I know you’d have that handy?” Mac asked, but took it. A field kit dose of Fastfix, a cocktail designed to let the Human body continue past its natural collapse point. She’d used one before and knew to quickly drive the tip into her real arm, ready for the sharp pinch. In minutes, her electrolyte balance would head for normal, and stimulants would convince her she’d slept like a baby.
If ever there was a time,
Mac thought, and returned the now-empty syringe with a faint smile.

“You do realize this negotiation idea is a long shot. At best.”

He arched his eyebrows as if shocked. “This from the person who single-handedly destroyed the Sinzi’s no-space tank system?”

“You don’t know I destroyed it. The Ro probably did the damage. I—” Mac flushed, “—okay, maybe I poked it.”

“Proving my point. Put some of that ‘shove the universe’ attitude of yours to work for us. You can do this, Mac, if anyone can,” he said, low and sure.

“That’s just it, Nik. It doesn’t have to be me—” The rest of Mac’s explanation was cut off by the opening of the door.

“Greetings, Mackenzie Winifred Elizabeth Wright Connor Sol!”

The booming greeting was the most cheerful thing she’d heard in a while. Mac walked up to the cell bars. “You look—you look great,” she said with wonder.

While she’d been awake, at work, worried, jumped on by baby Mygs, transported through no-space, and tortured by an impossible-to-bear alien’s voice—not to mention the flood of dying fish and a brawl in the signal room.
And,
Mac summed up dourly,
another meeting with a long table,
the Dhryn had been resting.

The result? One about-to-stagger Human and a robust, hearty alien. With, she noticed, every one of the little rings she’d brought adorning his ear ridges, and a bold, yet pleasing accent of burgundy at eyebrows, cheek ridges, and lips. Mac doubted she could have done as good a job with a mirror.

The golden irises of his eyes almost glowed. “While you,
Lamisah,
have neither rested nor bathed. What’s wrong? And why does that one sleep without waking?” A gesture to the left.

Where Mac saw the new addition to the room. A smaller version of the jelly-bed, with Emily lying on it, unmoving. She resisted the impulse to run to her side. Two was already there, standing attentively.

“She’s—” Dhryn had no words for illness or its treatment.
‘A Dhryn is robust or a Dhryn is not.’
Mac sighed. “That’s my friend Emily.”

The Vessel, who’d been sitting, abruptly stood. “Emily Mamani Sarmiento?” he exclaimed. “
Lamisah
to my beloved Brymn Las? She is found?” He hurried to that side of his cell. “This is wonderful news, Mackenzie Winifred Elizabeth Wright Connor Sol!” But once there, he stopped and stared at the unconscious woman. “She is damaged.”

Two, who’d stood impassively as the larger blue alien rushed toward her, gave Mac a look of inquiry. Mac walked along the cell bars to stand beside the Dhryn, careful not to look at Emily. “Brymn Las told you—the Progenitor—about Emily?”

“Of course. And that she was taken from your side by the monstrous Ro.” Empty food containers in the cell shook as the Dhryn said something too low for Mac to hear.
Likely something she’d agree with,
she thought bitterly.

Unfortunately—or otherwise—Brymn’s last chance to communicate with his Progenitor had been before they’d learned of Emily’s betrayal.
Not the time to share,
Mac decided. Instead, she said quietly: “The Ro damaged her. We hope for the best. Vessel, we have to talk about something else—” Mac started walking toward the door to the cell.

But the Dhryn stayed where he was, leaning as close to the cell bars as he could without touching them, implying they were in some way dangerous to touch.
Not an experiment she’d been interested in trying. “Lamisah,

wait. Did they place their channels within her flesh?”

Mac nodded, startled by the question. “Yes. Links to no-space. But how—”

“Aieee! Then the Ro have not yet released their grip. If they do not steal her from you again, they will take what is theirs. You must be ready! Bring those among the not-Dhryn who understand the workings of a Human body, who can deal with extreme damage.” The Dhryn gazed at Mac with distress. “You doubt me,
Lamisah
?”