Migration (70 page)

Delay,
Mac judged it.
Why?
She decided on patience, and was rewarded a moment later.

Anchen put down her fingers with what seemed reluctance. “Mac. The destruction of the Dhryn ships. How do you judge this act?”

“Murder. The slaughter of innocents.”

“Innocents who may have been responsible for the deaths of billions. For the eradication of entire biospheres.”

“I’ve seen eagles gather by the hundreds to feast on salmon as they spawn. If I could ask the salmon’s opinion on that slaughter, I’m sure it would differ from the eagles’. I have none.”

“So you see the Dhryn as part of nature.”

Mac’s lips twisted. “I see them as a perversion of nature. A perversion created and manipulated by the Ro. Who are, in my opinion, guilty of murder on all counts.”

“To those who do not think as you—or I, Mac—the Ro’s destruction of the Dhryn ships was an act of salvation.”

Mac frowned. “How can that be? The evidence—”

“Is not definitive. Not yet. Not to all. Human ships are collecting debris, hunting clues. Meanwhile, you must continue your work, Mac.” A lift of those tall shoulders. “But, as you do, be aware of this ambivalence among us.

There will remain division, factions to be pacified and contained.”

Too much to hope it would be simple,
Mac told herself.
That all would see the same threat, interpret the same actions as she did
. She thought of how hard it was for her and Mudge to agree—and they started from the same information and had similar goals.

“For how long?”

“Until we know the Myrokynay’s intentions beyond doubt.”

“If they win,” Mac grumbled, “we’ll know, won’t we?”

Anchen formed her triangular mouth into a smile. “Let us hope to gain this knowledge first. We must establish communications with both the Dhryn and the Ro, Mac. Since the Ro have proved—uninterested—in civil discourse, I will send our Dhryn back to his Progenitor, trusting to form a useful connection.”

Mac’s eyes sought the horizon again. Late afternoon. Some scudding cloud. That ridiculous blue sky hanging over a sea sparked with light. A sea with life spared for another day.

“I’ll go with him,” she said.

A cool sharpness, light as the tip of a feather, stroked the back of her hand. For an instant, Mac couldn’t remember if it was her real one or not. She looked at the Sinzi-ra. “I mean it.”

“And I am grateful for your courage. But you cannot, Mac.” Anchen stroked her hand once more. “We need you here, to continue leading your team. Even if they could manage without you,” she said, anticipating Mac’s protest before she did more than draw breath to make it, “Emily cannot. What hope she has to recover may depend in part on the presence of a—good—friend. I have a third reason—do you wish to hear it?”

Mac scowled but nodded.

“The Ro followed you once before, using the tracer signature within your body. It’s true they had Emily’s help and her device—also that they knew your destination and could stay close. But do you wish to take the chance that they could repeat this feat and, through you, find the Vessel?”

“The Ministry might have a way of masking it—changing it.”

“Which brings me to my last reason, Mac. Although you accepted temporary citizenship within the IU in order to be part of the Gathering, your kind has claimed you back from us. The Ministry of Extra-Sol Human Affairs is unwilling to risk both of its experts on the Dhryn in such a venture. I find I concur.”

“Both?” Mac nodded slowly.
Of course
. She’d heard Nik say it.
It just hadn’t registered.
“Nik’s going.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Anchen gestured westward, sunlight glinting from her silver rings. “Today. I am sorry you did not have a chance to say good-bye in person, Mac, but the launch must be secret. We sought no agreement for this mission. We fear an act against the Vessel—followers on their trail. You can send a note to me. I will make sure Nik receives it.”

A note,
Mac repeated to herself, feeling as though the terrace had tilted toward the sharp rocks below.

The knock at her door shortly after Anchen departed didn’t surprise Mac. Who was knocking did.

“Come in, Mr. Hollans,” she said, quite sure she was doing a lousy job of hiding her disappointment.

“Dr. Connor. If I might speak with you?”

If he made it quick.
“Sure.” He walked through the arch to the sitting room.

They took seats in opposing jelly-chairs. The fish tank table—every one, Mac had been told—had been replaced by a solid slab of local stone, polished and gray. She tucked her feet under the Sinzi gown. He was, predictably, in the brown suit. There were dark circles under his eyes, lines of strain around his mouth.

“Dr. Connor—”

“Mac.”

He almost smiled. “Mac. I came to apologize.”

“I’ve a temper,” she admitted with a shrug. “Besides, you were right. Dhryn were killing Humans. I needed to know.” Mac paused uncertainly. “Did you have family—at the refinery?”

He shook his head, then gave a strange laugh. “Yes. In a way.”

“In a way?”

“My job—when I’m not working with Anchen—is to watch out for the ones who leave home. I don’t know many of them as individuals; I don’t need to. Those who go to space are different. They’re travelers, restless, eager for something new and bigger. The seeds of our kind, in a way. Fragile, sometimes foolish. Sometimes with evil intent, often brave. They deserve to do better than survive out there. I want more for them than that. Sorry. I’m probably not making much sense.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Been a long few days.”

Mac eyed him cautiously, then made up her mind. “I knew someone like that,” she offered. “Just had to go to space. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t be satisfied with Earth. I argued with him, tried to keep him here.”
With her
.

“Let me guess. He left anyway.”

She nodded. “And didn’t come back. It’s taken me this long to understand, a little anyway. It wasn’t that Earth was too small for Sam. He saw what I didn’t, back then. Earth isn’t isolated, complete in itself. This world is part of something else, larger, waiting to be known. He wanted that something, be it space or other worlds. Guess I’m not making sense either,” she finished, frustrated.

A true smile this time, frayed with exhaustion, but offered as one friend to another. “Sounded all right to me,” Hollans said, then stood. “Mac, I also came to make sure you understood why I asked the IU not to send you with the Dhryn. Nothing to do with your abilities.” His smile turned rueful. “Believe me, Mac, I’ve become convinced. But—” he paused.

Mac stood, too. “Anchen told me. Nik Trojanowski is going and you can’t risk us both.” She was surprised when the words came out sounding normal.

“So you think he can do it?” A little too casual, given the anxiety she read in his eyes.

Mac didn’t hesitate. “Nik doesn’t speak the language,” she admitted. “That’s a disadvantage among Haven-raised Dhryn. But—he understands the Dhryn. And, to be honest, he understands this—” Her wave was meant to encompass not only Earth and the consulate, but all the IU. “—unlike me. You’re better off with someone out there who won’t shove the universe at the wrong time.” She paused, then said: “And the Vessel does know where he’s going, in case you were wondering.”

“But I thought you said—”

Mac blushed, just a bit. “The Dhryn don’t lie, Mr. Hollans. But I’m not a Dhryn.”

A curt—and very relieved—nod. “Thank you, Mac. That helps.”

She walked him to her door, scuffing her bare toes in the sand. About to leave, he stopped and turned to look at her. “We’ll do our best for Dr. Mamani. Under the circumstances, I’ve arranged for the charges against her to be dropped.”

“Charges?” Mac repeated, then stopped her automatic protest.
What hadn’t Emily done?
“Thank you.”

She closed the door.

“He believes you’re going to die, Emily,” Mac said, her forehead against the doorframe. “Don’t start being convenient now.”

No messages. No more visitors. Mac’s nerves stood the peace and quiet as long as they could, which was not at all, then she dressed and went out.

“Hi, Mac.”

The voice from nowhere made her jump half out of her skin. “Don’t do that!” Mac hissed.

’Sephe’s lips stretched in that magical smile of hers. “Your feet left the floor.”

Mac snorted, then shook her head. “I’ve things on my mind. Why exactly are you standing outside my door?”

“Even I pull guard detail.” Not that ’Sephe was in full armor, although she wore one of the vests and had a weapon hanging at her hip. Underneath, she wore a bright red dress, complete with matching sandals.

“I thought the Sinzi had put up Ro detectors of some kind.” Mac had heard the explanation given to another and tuned out all but the key, to her, part.
Safe, for now
. “Disrupts their ability to exit from no-space within the building.”

“Untested technology to stop an unseen foe?” ’Sephe arched one eyebrow.

“And not everyone in this place is a friend of mine,” Mac suggested.

A sober look. “Let’s say we’re going to stick a little close for a while. If you don’t mind.”

“Do I have a choice?” but Mac softened it with a smile of her own. “I don’t mind the company, ’Sephe.” In fact, she’d hoped for it.

“Where to?”

By way of answer, Mac held up a palm-sized salmon. It had been the smallest one hanging from her ceiling, and one of the nicest. A traditional Haida rendering, pale wood with dramatic lines in red and black, shaping eye and sweep of tail, offering meanings as well.
The cycle of life. The whole as a sum of its parts
. The dangling thread still attached caught on her finger and she wrapped the excess around the tail. “A token for a traveler,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

“Mac, you know there’s a security blackout. Clock’s started—”

“Then why did you let me sleep so long?” she snapped, then, desperately: “ ’Sephe. Please.”

Muttering something that wasn’t Instella or English—or polite—under her breath, the Ministry agent turned and led the way down the corridor to the far lift. Mac stayed close behind, not daring to say another word.

Theirs didn’t seem a particularly clandestine route—down a regular lift—main hall—outside along the patio, walking on top of the Atrium—but Mac knew better. They passed one too many faces she knew, faces that gave ’Sephe a look of disbelief and Mac one of pity.

This route was guarded.

That wasn’t to say others might not. “There you are, Norcoast!”

’Sephe gave her a warning look. Mac just shrugged.
There were some people you couldn’t lose
. “About time you woke up,” Mudge went on as he caught up. “They wouldn’t let me see you. Are you all right? I’ve had a briefing from the Sinzi-ra herself. Fine job you did. Risky, but—”

“Oversight,” Mac interrupted, “we’re in a bit of a hurry here. Do you mind if we talk about all this later?”

He harrumphed, his cheerful expression changing to suspicion as if she’d thrown a switch. “What’s wrong? I thought we won. What’s going on. Where are you going?”

Mac rolled her eyes, then grabbed Mudge by the front of his jacket, pulling him along in the direction ’Sephe had indicated until he scampered to keep up. ’Sephe, with a heavy, completely clear sigh, took a few longer strides to get ahead and lead. “We didn’t win,” Mac told him as they passed under the trees. “Not yet. And, thanks. I’m all right.”

“This is the way to the landing pads.” Mudge grabbed her arm, tried to slow her down. “What’s going on? Are you leaving, Norcoast?”