Regeneration (Czerneda) (60 page)

“And you did, Norcoast.”

“If you’re wrong about the Ministry, it doesn’t matter. If you’re right?” She shrugged. “What’s the worst Hollans can do?”

“Before we get back to Earth, or after?”

“After,” Mac leaned back with a shrug, “I don’t plan to care.”

 

 

 

T
HERE WAS ONLY ONE thing worse than a meeting where she was on the spot, Mac decided, stifling a yawn.
A meeting where she wasn’t.
The discussion had droned on for over an hour now and showed no signs of ending.
Good thing the corpse was in stasis.

“Stop fidgeting, Norcoast.”

“I’m not—” she began to protest, when the door opened.

It was Fourteen. He waved an urgent summons but not, to Mac’s astonishment, to her. Instead, Fy bowed graciously and left her place with Ureif without a word of explanation, walking past everyone to join the Myg.

Trundling in her wake, Fy-Alpha nearly knocked over the poor Frow.

The discussion continued without pause, the Cey delegation holding forth on the need for more derelicts to be brought to Myriam so everyone could explore their own and was there going to be lunch?

No one was looking.
Seeing her opportunity, Mac grabbed Mudge’s wrist and pulled him to follow the Grimnoii out the door, keeping them both low in case Captain Gillis spotted the escape of his fellow Humans and tried to interfere.
He’d begun to glaze over, too.

Once the door closed between them and the meeting, Mac let out a
whoof
of relief.

Mudge shook off her grip and straightened with a glower. “Do you even know what dignity means, Norcoast?”

“If it means being stuck there when I could be working, I’m not interested.”

Fourteen and Fy were deep in conversation, walking rapidly down another corridor, Fy-Alpha in tow. “What’s that all about?” Mac wondered.

“With him, it could be anything.” At her look, he relented. “The Sinzi-ra requested his help earlier. I presume something to do with the message traffic. They’re headed to the bridge,” he nodded after them.

“While we’re going back to Origins.” Mac started walking to the tube door. “I want to check on our guest.”

“Surely you should be packing, Norcoast.” Mudge hurried to keep up.

“Why?”

“The drop to Myriam.”

Mac snorted. “I’m a little busy right now to help you get ready, Oversight. Get Sam.”

“I don’t think you understand. You’re coming, too. You need to pack.”

She stopped in the middle of the corridor to stare at him.

Mudge backed up a step. “Now, Norcoast, surely you expected it. Only military personnel will be boarding a derelict until any and all risk has been removed. Sinzi-ra Ureif and the captain were quite sensible about that. Quite firm, in fact. No one disagreed. Civilians—including you—won’t be put in danger. Losing Dr. Norris . . .” He tsked sorrowfully. “Too high a price to discover the Ro have been with the Dhryn all along.”

“That’s what you think?” She gestured at the closed meeting room door. “What they think? That the walker came with the Dhryn?”

“What else?”

That she’d brought it with her?
Facing Mudge’s puzzled look, Mac couldn’t bring herself to say it. He’d think she was certifiable, and everyone would agree.

Besides,
she chided herself,
why would a walker hide all this time on the
Joy
and then sneak a ride to a dead Dhryn ship?

To follow her? Despite Fy’s belief that Mac was
“a nexus of interest,”
for the Ro, Mac couldn’t see what the aliens would gain from a trip to the
Uosanah
. They had to realize she’d bring back any findings.
Why risk discovery in the tiny space of the lev?

If the walker had been on board with them, it would have had to dodge around Norris like a dancer.
Or clung to the ceiling.

Mac shuddered.

“Norcoast?” Mudge’s puzzlement turned to concern. “You’re safe now. A terrible ordeal. Terrible. But a good night’s sleep . . . you’ll be fine.” Having come to his own conclusions about her hesitation—
and how to deal with it,
Mac smiled to herself—Mudge scowled ferociously. “Norris had no right taking you on that ship. None!”

“I don’t need to board the
Uosanah
again, or any other ship,” she assured him. “We have her captain. Once he regains consciousness, we can ask him what happened to them.”

Mudge shook his head. “Conscious? I thought he was dead already. He certainly looked dead,” he modified.

“He does that,” Mac nodded. “And he probably won’t last the night, which is why I can’t leave. If he wakes, I may be the only one he’ll answer.” She smiled. “Besides, Oversight, I have my own quarters, with a nice new bed I haven’t used yet.”

Harrumph.
“In that case, I’m staying, too.” He wagged his forefinger under her nose. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, Norcoast.” His lower lip developed a slight quiver. “I should have been with you—”

She put her finger to his, stopping its movement. “I wish you had.” She dropped her hand. “On the bright side—”
before either of them grew more emotional,
“—there should be a record of Norris allowing Base to have the schematics for his ship. Full surround imaging, Oversight. Except for the seats,” she added.

His eyes popped open, concern forgotten. “You saw the exterior of the
Joy
?” With awe. “What was she like?”

“Big,” Mac offered, pointing to the tube door. “Reminded me of coral.”

“The wonders of technology are wasted on you, Norcoast,” he muttered. “Simply wasted.”

“Origins, please,” she told the crew waiting by the controls. “What more do you want, Oversight?” she asked him as they settled inside the bolus. “You’ve been on the bridge—how many times?”

“It’s not the same,” he said with unusual petulance.

The bolus sucked them against its walls and bounced into the stream.

Mac gradually relaxed.

It wasn’t the same
, she echoed to herself.

She’d been rattled, that was all.
Not the first time.
At Base, late at night, she’d wake to that sound, paralyzed with fear until she found its source. Dried reeds in her garden. Sleet against the walls. A disoriented bat. There’d been a crab . . .

“Norcoast.”

She focused on him. “Yes?”

“Your new rings.”

Mae sighed. “They’ve made contact. It’s a waiting game now.”
She didn’t bother with the rest.

“That much success. Good.” But he frowned.

She knew that look.
“What?”

“You say this is secure. But I’m concerned how the Trisulians would know to ask you about Cinder.”

Mac would have shrugged, but her shoulders were stuck fast. “They asked,” she disagreed. “Nothing says they knew. Their culture thrives on secrets, layers of them. Who knows what . . . who has information to trade for influence. It wouldn’t surprise me if they presume we’re all like they are and act accordingly.”
Hairy spies,
she thought.
Disguises would be a snap.

“But you do have information they’d want.”

She sent him a cautioning look,
although presumably any eavesdroppers here would have faces
. “I wouldn’t call it ‘information,’ Oversight.”

He might have persisted, but the bolus snapped to a stop. The door opened almost immediately and Elane greeted them with smile. “Good meeting, Mac?”

“As always,” she answered, pulling free of the walls. Mudge did the same, and they staggered their way out together.

Mac could almost feel Mudge fussing as they walked into the Origins section.
Never a good sign.
“What now?” she asked once they were alone.

“You should eat something.”

“Sleep. Eat. You’re worse than my dad.” Mac’s stomach gurgled and she threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

He ducked his head so she only saw the corner of his smile.

“You call that eating? Bah.”

“I call it efficient.” Mac sipped through the straw, trying in vain to identify the taste of the warm, thick liquid. She waved her tall cup at him enticingly. “You could have had one, Oversight.” The ship’s version of e-rations had turned out to be a soup, packed with nutrients and sealed into a container suited for zero-g.
Perfect for the biologist on the move,
she thought, taking another sip. “I should take some of these home.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Mudge bit into his carrot—or facsimile—then continued working his way through the mass of salad on his plate. “I prefer to recognize what goes into my body, thank you very much. And you,” he jabbed his loaded fork at her hovering ’screen, “should learn to relax.”

Mac blinked. “I’m relaxing.” They were sitting in the empty dining room, and had been for some time. She’d only opened her ’screen to check for new messages, been scrolling haphazardly through the list.
Nothing from Emily.
She’d marked Kammie’s for later reading. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Mudge shook his head again. “Never mind.”

“I can do small talk,” she offered, giving him a wicked grin.

He held up his hands. “Save me. What’s come in?”

Mac set her list between them, two-sided so Mudge could read it at the same time. “I’d expected something from the Ministry by now,” she complained.

He leaned so she could see his frown past the display. “Why?”

“Hollans should realize I’d want to see their results.”

Mudge’s face disappeared behind rows of text. She could hear crunching.
Opinionated crunching.

“Well, he should.” Mac closed the display and put away her imp, aware she sounded petulant.
She had a right to be.
“We have to understand these walkers—what they are—what they’re capable of—how to detect them—how to—”
be safe.
She took a long sip.

“I’m sure, Norcoast, the scientists busy with the specimen you and your friend obtained will provide a report when they’re ready. Including any comparative results. Copied to those who will act on it.”

She grimaced. “In other words, it’s none of my business.”

“I didn’t say that.” Mudge divided his remaining beans into neat rows. “There are, of course, ways to work within any system to obtain timely documentation.” One bean was moved from one row to the next. “Protocols, etcetera.”

Mac sorted that out, then beamed at him. “Great!”

A sheepish
harrumph.
“I’ll do my best, Norcoast. I can’t promise—”

“You’ll be my hero,” she interrupted. “No matter what.”

Almost a smile. “Have a carrot.”

“Thanks.” She helped herself to two, eyeing his plate.
At the rate he chewed, even with her help this was going to take a while.
“You don’t have to finish all that. Unless you’re hungry.” She made it sound unlikely.

“If you’re ready to go, Norcoast,” Mudge said dryly, “I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”

Mac looked around the empty room and felt a twinge of guilt. “No problem. I’m relaxing,” she claimed, tipping her chair back to prove it. She took out her imp and rolled it from one hand to the other. Back and forth. “See?”

He
harrumphed
. “I see you’ll give me indigestion. Go. Please.”

She leaped to her feet, cup in hand. “You know where to find me.”

Mac was steps away when Mudge called after her. “Norcoast. Remember what he is.”

She nodded without turning around.