Regeneration (Czerneda) (72 page)

Nik took them to the nearest communications station. Once there, he dropped his ident in front of the crew. Whatever it said, the three didn’t hesitate, immediately standing and moving well back from their console, letting Nik take their place.

She could use one of those
. Mac considered it, then changed her mind. She’d seen the cost of that kind of power. She waited, silent, while her spy composed several missives.
If anyone could send secrets, it would be this man.

Those secrets sat inside her like a meal her body already regretted.
Hollans would get more than he bargained for
, Mac thought. Fact and speculation. The former might be scattered; the latter fit too well.
Neither were comforting.

“I can’t set up a give and go with Earth,” Nik said abruptly. “Have you been having equipment problems?”

“Not at our end, sir,” answered one of the crew. “But there’ve been sporadic delays with incoming packets for the past few hours. Sinzi-ra Myriam is monitoring the gate.”

Nik swiveled the chair to look at the crew. “Outgoing?”

Two of them glanced at the third, a woman with specialist bars on her arm. “From our side, outgoing reads nominal, sir,” she replied.

Even Mac could hear the unspoken doubt in her voice. Nik rose to his feet, every line of his body tense. “Traffic is moving through the gate?” he demanded.

“Of course, sir.” All three looked astonished by the very idea.
They were lucky
, thought Mac, who wasn’t. “But until the incoming rate returns to normal,” the specialist pointed out, “we won’t know if outgoing messages are being delayed as well.”

“We’ll notify you once the problem’s rectified, sir. Shouldn’t be long.”

Nik nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to Mac. “Shall we go meet your guest?” Warm smile, easy tone. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was an ordinary day and he was proposing to visit a mutual friend.
A Human chameleon
, she decided enviously. Anyone looking at Nik would think nothing was wrong with the world.

Anyone looking at her? Mac snorted.
She didn’t need a mirror.
The crew they’d encountered in the corridor had given her second glances.
Worried ones.
These three had been no different.

“Let’s go,” she agreed.

The length of corridor leading back to the hangar and beyond turned out to be consular space, bustling with activity.
None of it Grimnoii,
Mac noted. They found the Wasted’s luxurious new quarters without difficulty—just a little early. Crew were still installing slanted false walls.
Humans only.
Mac hoped it was convenience.
It didn’t bode well if only the Sinzi and Humans could bear to be near a Dhryn.

The Progenitor, they were told, was still holding court in her room in the Origins corridor.

“They’d better hope she doesn’t grow too big for the door first,” Mac muttered to Nik as they retraced their steps. “Gillis won’t be happy if they cut into a permanent wall.”

Nik chuckled and took her hand. “Mikey’s not so bad.”

“ ‘Mikey?’ ” She gave him a sidelong look.
Captain Gillis?
“Do I want to know?”

“We went to school together.” Nik grinned at whatever he saw in her face. “What? Did you think I never went? I did, you know. Learned to read. Math. How to torment the new teacher. All that.”

“I never thought of your life before all this—” Mac waved at the corridor.
Tactful as always,
she chided herself and tried to cover it. “Were you one of those daring kids whose parents came to know the principal?”

“Orphan.”

Could she be worse at this?
“I’m sor—”

He silenced her fumbling apology with a quick kiss, making her blush and gathering far too much interest from passing crew. “Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t old enough to know them. Mining accident took most of the adults that year. As for the principal?” Nik paused. “I managed to stay off his scanner.”

They reached the door to the Origins upper level and he keyed in the code. “You do know I have brothers,” she commented as they went through the door. “No staying off theirs.”

An inscrutable look. “Should I be worried?”

“Not about Owen,” Mac grinned. “Blake? Now he’ll be—”

“Norcoast!”

“Oversight,” she greeted warily, taking in his decidedly rumpled appearance. “Been here long?” “Here” being outside the closed and locked door to her empty quarters.

“No. I’ve spent most of the last hour getting past those infernal Frow!”

Oh, dear.
Mac winced. “I’ll speak to them. This is—”

But Mudge had already transferred his glare to Nik, his entire body shaking with rage. “As for you, Mr. Trojanowski, I would expect a man of your responsibilities to not only appear in timely fashion at scheduled meetings but to have a care for others. Your treatment of Dr. Connor has been nothing short of appalling. Appalling!”

“You’re absolutely right, Charles,” Nik said solemnly.

Mac coughed. “Could we discuss this on the way, please?”
Or never?

“On the—” Mudge sputtered.

“We’re late, right?” she said, her eyes pleading,
not now
.

Mudge
harrumphed
fiercely, but subsided. “You were late,” this with emphasis, “an hour ago.”

“Then we’d best be going.” Nik waited for Mudge to lead. Mudge gave a meaningful glare at the ladderway and stayed where he was.

Mac shook her head and walked past them both.

The Frow had wisely chosen discretion, perhaps remembering Mac’s reaction to their previous Mudge-tossing escapade. Their presence was a mere shuffling in the distance, a glow of alert eyes. She waved as she stepped off the ladder at the lower level, as much to remind them she was watching while the others climbed down, as to say thanks.

The guards at the door were still crew. While steps away, Mac felt the touch of Nik’s fingers on her wrist and stopped. “I’m not sure we should mention the other Dhryn,” he told them both. “Not until we understand the dynamics better.”

Mudge
harrumphed
. “Which would make perfect sense, except it’s too late. While you were recuperating, Ureif made sure Her Glory was fully apprised of the situation. And myself.” This last with a somewhat smug look. Mac could well imagine Mudge wearing down all authority in reach to find out what was happening.

“ ‘Her Glory?’ ” She raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been informed that’s the appropriate address by a non-Dhryn.”

“Haven Dhryn don’t acknowledge the existence of non-Dhryn,” she pointed out. “How could there be such a thing?”

“Makes sense,” Nik countered. “The necessities of interacting with the IU. Sinzi-ra Ureif dealt with colonial Dhryn, true, but he would have needed to communicate with the Progenitors if only through their
erumisah.
” He looked ahead to the guarded door. “I might as well pull what rank I have as the Vessel for—for the other Progenitor.” He rubbed one hand over his chin thoughtfully. “Her Glory was a ship’s captain, right? Brymn Las was a traveled scholar. Makes you wonder about the early experiences of the other Progenitors, doesn’t it?”

“They’re likely diverse individuals,” Mudge agreed. “It could be difficult to predict their behavior, should they begin to act outside the influence of the Ro.”

“Late, remember?” Mac rolled her eyes and started for the door. Her companions hastened to follow.

There’d been some effort to improve the Dhryn’s temporary quarters. Another of the work area walls—
the one to her precious communication equipment
—had come down. The communication gear itself was no longer in sight. The floor was half sand, with a pair of jelly-chairs, the remainder a soft red carpeting. On the carpet was an immense padded chaise lounge affair, also red. From its proportions, it hadn’t come from the
Joy
. The thing was propped to support its occupant.

An occupant who hooted with delight at the sight of Mac.
“Lamisah!”
shouted Her Glory. The floor underfoot thrummed with whatever else she said.

“Please don’t move,” Cayhill said, hovering over the recumbent alien. The Dhryn bristled with curved tubes, as if a clear spray was shooting from her body in all directions.
The other way around,
Mac realized, tracing the tubes back to where they connected to an apparatus.
Perfusion pump
, she grinned to herself.
Knew it.

Ureif had risen from his chair, fingers flowing in a graceful welcome. His blood-red rings matched the carpet perfectly.
Nice touch,
Mac thought, although she was reasonably sure that “red” wasn’t the color to the Sinzi it was to her eyes.

Nik acknowledged the Sinzi-ra, but his attention was fixed on the Dhryn. From his expression, he was every bit as amazed as she’d expected. He nodded to the physician. “Dr. Cayhill.”

Cayhill ran his eyes over Nik and grunted. “I see you’ve recovered. When you get around to my messages, Mr. Trojanowski, do pay attention to the one listing your nutritional requirements.” He turned back to his task.

“You look wonderful,” Mac told the Dhryn, ignoring Cayhill. And she did seem the image of health, her blue skin almost fluorescent, the glow from her bands soft and steady. There seemed no further increase in size; perhaps growth occurred in spurts.
Must not help Gillis sleep better.

“I feel wonderful! These are wonderful beings! All is wonderful!” Each “wonderful” was accompanied by a heave on the lounge, producing a fluttering of the tubes that sent Cayhill into frenzied action.

“You know you must keep still,
Lamisah,
” Mac said in Dhryn.

“Where’s the fun in that?” One golden eye winked at her. Her Glory, no longer bouncing, switched back to Instella without effort. “He is a marvel, my
erumisah
Gordon Matthew Cayhill.”

The voice, the phrasing, was warm and friendly. Confident. Even charming.
All things the Wasted hadn’t been.
Somehow Mac doubted this personality had belonged to the former captain of the
Uosanah
. Here was a new individual, suited to lead her kind.

Or, at the moment, four Humans and a Sinzi. Mac turned to introduce Nik. He shook his head slightly and she closed her mouth, glancing at Mudge who looked equally puzzled.

Without a word, Nik walked up to the massive Dhryn and knelt near her head.

For her part, Her Glory looked as confused as Mac felt. She leaned forward as if studying Nik, her mouth slightly open, lips working as if she spoke without sound. Then she suddenly reared up, her handed arm coming up before her face, her other limbs tensed. Cayhill scrambled to corral the tubes. “I taste Her! I taste Her!” shouted the agitated Dhryn. “Where is She!?”

It seemed clear Nik was in imminent danger of attack—
the Dhryn could smash his skull with that arm,
Mac realized—but he remained motionless and in reach. When Mudge moved forward, she stopped him. “Nik knows what he’s doing,” she whispered.
Hopefully.

“My Progenitor has sent me, Her Vessel,” Nik said in Instella, calm and collected. “I am to speak with you on Her behalf.”

“You are not-Dhryn.” But she eased back down and lowered her hand. Cayhill growled something under his breath and shot Mac a dirty look as he hurried to reinstall now-dripping tubes.

How could this be her fault?
Mac thought indignantly.

“These are unusual times.”

A forlorn
hoot.
“As I am proof.” A long pause, in which gold eyes met hazel. “Speak, then, Vessel.”

She could almost feel the tension ease from Nik’s shoulders. “My Progenitor would have me tell you of the Great Journey,” he began. “How That Which Is Dhryn was perverted by the Ro. And how That Which Is Dhryn must follow the path of the truth.”

Mac held her breath, waiting for the Dhryn’s reaction, but Her Glory must have been made of sterner stuff than others of her kind. She merely said, “Go on.”

“These things and more you should hear before my Progenitor joins us.”

The glow from the bands around her torso pulsed with more intensity.
A display?
wondered Mac. “She returns to Haven?” asked the Dhryn.

Guess no one thought to correct that small confusion,
Mac winced. But Nik didn’t blink. “She’ll be here soon,” he answered smoothly.

In Dhryn. “Will She ask for my flesh?” The warmth was gone from Her Glory’s voice. Mac felt the vibration through the floor, saw it shake the fountain spray of tubing. “I am younger, stronger. More fit, more deserving. That Which Is Dhryn must survive.” Louder. “I will ask for Her flesh! My
lamisah
will be my Vessel. She will demand it!”

No doubt about it. That imperative finger was aimed her way. Mac sighed inwardly.
Salmon researcher. Would no one remember?