Regeneration (Czerneda) (36 page)

The claws hadn’t budged. If anything, their hold on the wall appeared more desperate than before. Small flecks of paint were coming loose.

Mac took off her shoes, on the premise that climbing a fellow sentient while wearing them was somehow more rude.
She doubted the Grimnoii would notice.
Using a chair, she climbed gingerly onto the table in front of the kitchen, stepping through the maze of outstretched hairy arms and hands. Her right foot landed in a puddle of what she hoped was spilled cider and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Three of the Grimnoii were in her path, but only one had a pair of blunt wooden handles thrust through the bandolier that went around his torso.
Useful,
Mac decided.

Before she could reconsider, she grabbed the handles, one in each hand, then put her right foot on the most muscular part of the being’s shoulder. When this didn’t elicit a reaction, she slowly increased the weight on that foot until she was supporting herself on it.

She lifted her left foot and brought it forward, finding her balance.

The Grimnoii sneezed.

With a shriek, Mac went flying over its backside. Somehow she tucked herself into a ball as she landed and slid along the floor on her rump—until her rump hit something that rattled but didn’t give way.

Fighting the urge to giggle, Mac stared up at her feet, then rolled her head to take a look at her surroundings. The first thing she saw was the owner of the claws.

“
Se
Lasserbee.”

The Frow was clinging to a set of storage bins as well as the half wall. Like Mac, he was upside down.
A position,
Mac thought,
that looked better on him.

She turned herself over, staying on the floor, and studied the situation.
No sparks at least. Se
appeared calm enough, though
se’s
membranes were in a confused jumble concealing most of
se’s
silver-sprung uniform. She decided
se’d
twisted while grabbing for handholds. The pointy hat was now under
se’s
chin, exposing a plain, rounded head.

Se
unfolded
se’s
left neck ridge to turn that head to look at her, more or less directly. “Ah. Dr. Connor.” A strained whisper. “Are they gone? Is it safe?”

Now a spark, luckily landing on the bin and not the carpeted floor. Mac hurriedly climbed to her feet, hissing as her rump expressed its opinion as to her means of arrival in the kitchen. “The Grimnoii?” she guessed, leaning over to see where the Frow’s other limbs were. “They’re sleeping it off.”

“They were boisterous!”
Se’s
pale green eyes looked almost humanly anguished.

“I’m sure they were.”

“I sought refuge!”

Smart creature.
“Well, you’re safe now,” Mac promised. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

“Ahhh.”

No more than the exhalation, but Mac thought she understood. “You’re stuck?”

“I am not stuck!” This with considerable passion. Then
se
added more calmly, “The furnishings of this room are unstable and cannot be trusted.”

Mac touched the nearest bin, which rocked slightly. The Frow’s hand scrabbled for a better hold on it, further rocking the bin, and sparks began to fly in all directions. “Calm down,” she soothed, doing her best to hold the bin steady against
se’s
frantic movements. “Don’t move!”

That, the Frow understood.

Once she was sure
se
wouldn’t move—
likely ever
—and the sparks had subsided to a few forlorn glints, Mac slowly let go of the bin. She walked to the other end of the row and noticed all the bins were sitting on a wheeled trolley, presently locked.

She put her hand on the locking mechanism and stretched to look over the bins at the paralyzed Frow. “
Se
Lasserbee. I want you to trust me.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“You told me you like protocols and procedures.” Mac flipped open the cover on the lock.

“Ah. Yes.”
Se’s
voice lost some of its panicked edge. “I am expert in many formats.”

She eased the lock a half-turn and braced her foot against the trolley. “So you know how important it is to be thorough. To follow steps in sequence.”

“Yes, Dr. Connor. But what has this to do with the dreadful instability of this furniture?”

“I want you to count to three with me,” Mac said. “One . . .”

“Dr. Connor!”

“Two . . .”

“What are you—” The bins shuddered wildly.

“Three.” Mac unlocked the wheels and gave the trolley a shove with her foot.

“Aiee!!!!!”

The bins and trolley parted company with a loud clatter. She jumped out of the way as the nearest bin lost its lid, spilling what looked like precooked spaghetti on the floor. The noodles writhed together for a few seconds before setting off across the floor, apparently drawn by the dark shadow under the half wall.

Other bins deposited more sedentary masses, including puffs of white powder which drifted down to coat the now-collapsed Frow. Mac watched as
se’s
clawed hands grabbed weakly at the smooth floor. “
Se
Lasserbee?” she called softly.

“Ah. Dr. Connor. Please. A moment.”

Moving much more slowly than the freed spaghetti,
se
began to sort
se-self
out.

“No rush,” she assured
se,
eyeing the cupboards thoughtfully.

Just then, a Human head, above a tan uniform, peered into the kitchen. “Is everything—what’s going on here?”

Mac brushed powder from her hair and smiled cheerfully. “We’re making breakfast.”

“Where are the boisterous ones, Dr. Connor?”
Se’s
neck tilted as if a Grimnoii might be hiding in the room that constituted the Frow allotment of the
Annapolis Joy.
“Are we safe?”

For a soldier, the being was remarkably timid.
Which made sense,
Mac reminded herself.
If she could be knocked over as easily as
Se
Lasserbee, she’d be timid around giant drunk teddy bears, too.

Se’d
explained
se’d
come to the dining area to wait for her, having been told every Human would appear in that room eventually. When the Grimnoii had arrived instead,
se
had prudently retreated to the kitchen to wait. Prudently yet quickly. That would be the kitchen with highly unstable furnishings, resulting in
se
being trapped.

Mac had had to help
se
file a formal complaint with the captain before
se’d
calm down enough to converse on any other topic.
In a Human,
she decided,
the being’s outward reaction would mean humiliated pride.
Just as well
se
hadn’t mentioned her rather crude assistance.

She’d stayed in the kitchen, eating breakfast amid the mess, to let the Frow make
se’s
way here in privacy. A very long, slow breakfast. And she’d stayed to help the crew clean up.
Still almost beat
se
back here.

“We’re safe. The Grimnoii are in their quarters.” Without, Mac had checked, the remainder of their cider.

“Ah. Excellent. And are you comfortable, Dr. Connor?”

The Frow had managed to bring their own, more trustworthy furnishings with them. More impressively, as far as Mac was concerned, they’d managed to turn their combined rooms into an artificial forest.

Not that there were trees. Instead, everything Human had been removed, replaced by tall supports that filled the available floor space, leaving barely room for a Human to walk between, let alone a Grimnoii. The supports were identical in construction, each made of five burnished metal poles that approached but didn’t quite touch the ceiling. The poles were held together by struts, again of metal. These mostly horizontal pieces were wrapped in padding at inexplicable, to Mac at least, intervals. Each support arose from a base that fit snugly against all others like a puzzle piece.

Someone had jammed rolled blankets along the edges next to the room walls, presumably to make up for a difference from expected dimensions.
Thoughtful.

The supports were fixed, but their bronze poles had octagonal faces, catching and reflecting the ambient light depending on the angle of viewing. It gave the illusion of constant movement. The strung pads varied in color from yellow to deep red.
To Human eyes,
Mac reminded herself. The overall effect was of entering a landscape dominated by verticals and inhabited by perching lumps.

All three Frow were present, but the other two clutched poles as close to the ceiling as possible, their eyes closed.
Asleep or offering privacy?

Se
Lasserbee, hat in its proper place, had wrapped
se’s
claws around a support at the room’s center. Unlike
se’s
lackeys,
se’d
climbed only as far as necessary to keep
se’s
feet off the treacherously flat ground.
Courtesy to
se’s
guest,
Mac judged it.

Arms resting on soft padding, she leaned her chin on a handy puff of bright red. She’d already discovered a convenient rail for one foot.
Not bad.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she told the Frow.

“This?”
Se
Lasserbee tilted
se’s
neck farther to the other side, as if there was something new to see in their surroundings. “These are portable
clocs,
convenient and secure, yes, but hardly admirable. I hope you have the opportunity to see one of our true homes, Dr. Connor.”

“As do I,
Se
Lasserbee.” Her lips twisted in a grin. “And my compliments. I’m impressed you managed to catch a ride on this ship.”

“Ah.” The metal to every side made it hard to see which glints were from
se’s
eyes. “Unlike you, Dr. Connor, the other Human was gullible.”

Poor Kanaci.
Mac laughed. The lackeys overhead shifted positions with a click of claw to bar. One, she noticed, wound up upside down.
Didn’t seem to matter.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked.

“I have received most disturbing information, Dr. Connor. I didn’t know how to handle it until you arrived.”

Mac lost any inclination to laugh. “What do I have to do with it?” She lifted her chin from the pad and studied the Frow, whose offset eyes were apparently fixed on her left shoulder. “Couldn’t you contact your superiors?”

Se
drew
se’s
left membrane half over
se’s
face, allowing
se
to peek at her from its shelter. “I am a mere passenger. Those in charge of this ship permit me incoming messages only.”
Se
revealed more of
se’s
face. “Even if I could,” this very quietly, as if trying not to be overheard by the sleepers, “I would not. This is my first field assignment, Dr. Connor. I am expected to act appropriately. And I have. I have found you. I will give you this information.”

She was going to regret this.
“What is it?”

“A report from our contingent at the Gathering. They were given an assignment by the Sol System Sinzi-ra, Anchen, to—are you aware of the condition of the Dhryn world, Haven, when the Sinzi first contacted them?”

“I—” Mac hesitated, thinking hard.
Was she?
“Beyond urbanized, with in-system space travel? Nothing specific. My team’s been more concerned with the conditions on their planet of origin.”

“Haven was stripped bare,” the Frow revealed,
se’s
left membrane flapping against the side of
se’s
face in emphasis.
Or a nervous twitch.
“The probe found the Dhryn struggling to feed an exploding population, their resources almost gone. The building of the transect gate gave them trade as well as access to systems with worlds to colonize. We believe this saved their species.”

“Good timing,” Mac commented. “Hardly seems a coincidence, now, does it.”

“No.”
Se
clicked
se’s
claws along a rail.
Approval?
“The Sinzi had received information concerning the existence of Haven and the Dhryn, information which led to their probe. Because of their dire situation and apparently peaceful society, the decision to offer the Dhryn a transect gate was hurried through the IU council. With hindsight, as you say, the significance of these events becomes painfully evident. Our researchers were asked to trace the original source of that information. It turned out to be a daunting task.” He stopped.

Apparently their species shared a fondness for melodramatic pauses,
Mac thought testily. “Did they find it?”

“They believe so.”
Se
brought out an imp, wider but clearly kin to Mac’s, and triggered a display.