Regeneration (Czerneda) (76 page)

“How close are we to the Progenitor?”

“We have already passed beyond her ship. The gate is ahead.”

The Dhryn rumbled distress.

“Turn around,” Mac urged. “Take us back.”

“We cannot remain here, Mac. The promise—”

Nik’s hand tightened on her thigh.
My turn.
“Fy. The only safety lies in stopping the Ro for good. The Progenitor is the key to the promise. We have to save her, too.”

“I require the other Progenitor,” Her Glory said, adding her vote.

Votes wouldn’t matter,
Mac realized.
The Sinzi worked by achieving consensus, not majority.
Fy had to want this for her own reasons.

“Listen to me, Fy,” she said. “I shared
grathnu
with this Progenitor, the first and only alien to do so.”
As far as she knew, anyway.
“I am the Vessel for Her Glory, who I believe is the original form of Dhryn. You will move away from profound congruence unless you bring us together. The drawing in the sand, Fy. Sinzi join the lines. Please.”

Another squeeze.
Approval or caution?

Every second added distance, which added risk, but the three of them waited in silence to let Fy think it through.

“I, Faras, am unsure,” the Sinzi said at last. “I, Yt, am not.”

It had to be a talent,
Mac thought bitterly.
She’d paralyzed the Sinzi’s selves with one well-intentioned argument.

She decided not to say anything else for a while.

Nik took over. “Consider the sundered connections, Sinzi-ra. I know of your work with the Hift artifacts, yet you have never been able to view working Myrokynay technology. What if, as we believe, the Progenitor’s ship was built by the Ro? I am apart from the crew of my expedition and would return to them. Mac would return to the Progenitor who sought her out on Earth. Her Glory is apart from her kind and requires her Progenitor’s council. Should these connections not be attached, one to the other?”

Mac could hear the tinkling of rings. Then Fy’s voice, subdued but clear. “Are you sure you are not Sinzi, Nikolai?”

“Quite sure.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “If we now understand one another, Fy, all credit goes to Anchen as my teacher and Mac as my guide.”

The man was good,
Mac noted, smiling herself.

While Fy retraced their path to the Progenitor’s ship, Mac, Nik, and Her Glory rearranged themselves in the cramped space.
Lucky none of them was claustrophobic,
Mac thought. At least the air remained fresh.

The rearrangement was a precaution. Nik couldn’t vouch for what they’d face when the hatch opened—it made sense that both Humans be at least able to walk. Mac had lost touch with her feet some time ago.

Her Glory stayed put, being quite comfortable as she was. Nik managed to prop himself up so Mac could rub life back into her legs, hissing as awakening nerves merrily fired their displeasure. Once she could move, Mac crawled on top of the Dhryn, leaving the area directly before the hatch to Nik. The glowing bands were cool, the blue skin warm. She did her best to avoid sticking a finger into any of the tiny mouths.

Not bad.
Mac stretched, careful to keep her feet from the Sinzi’s back. She watched Nik bring out his weapon, holding it concealed in his palm. “You expecting a problem?”

“They got on the
Joy
.”

No need to ask who “they” were.
“They don’t need to board a Progenitor’s ship to destroy it,” Mac pointed out. Based on the fragments recovered in Sol System, the working hypothesis was that the Ro had somehow moved portions of their technology from the Dhryn ships into no-space, opening them to vacuum.

“No Hift materials were found in the wreckage,” Fy offered. “It was a great disappointment.”

Nik sat on the deck, easing his legs straight. He looked up at Mac where she leaned her chin on the Dhryn’s forehead ridge. “The Ro attack on the Progenitor’s ship at Haven fried quite a few systems, including what my people deduced were long-range communications. That’s why they hadn’t replied to our signals in the first place. We stopped the Dhryn from repairing them. A gamble, I admit. No way to know if that’s how a Ro destruct signal is picked up and distributed throughout the ship.”

Mac rose and fell with Her Glory’s sigh. “Surely the proof is that the ship remains intact,” the Dhryn suggested.

“Something of a comfort, yes.”

Mac frowned. “Not really.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked. The Dhryn shifted and tried to turn her head to see Mac, forcing her on her elbows to protect her nose.

“She was hidden from the Ro,” Mac pointed out. “Now She’s not.”

Nik jerked his thumb aftward.
Fy was listening.

Mac grimaced but nodded.

The Progenitor’s ship remained intact. The Ro either couldn’t, or didn’t, destroy her.

Maybe they didn’t have to,
Mac thought with a shiver, looking around.

What had hummed with life and light now seemed filled with the silent desolation of a graveyard.
Worse,
she decided, following Nik.
A graveyard implied mourners.

From inside the dart, their approach and entry into the Progenitor’s great ship had had all the high drama—
for passengers at least
—of taking a lift to another floor. Once inside the ship, they’d stepped out into this dimly-lit hollow cave. The space resembled the busy holds of the
Annapolis Joy
or the
Uosanah
only in being big enough to hold shuttles and their like. There were no guides along the floor. No lines of waiting empty craft.
No crew.
Lighting from above failed against the black, anti-Ro fabric lining ceiling, floor, and angled wall. Behind them, the Sinzi dart glittered like exotic jewelry, dropped and abandoned on velvet.

“There’s the
Impeci
.” Nik’s quiet voice echoed into the distance. He pointed to an ordinary shuttlelike craft, larger than those on the
Joy
.

Mudge would have known the specs.
Mac took a steadying breath. The Human ship looked normal. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing a thorough scrub and filter replace wouldn’t solve. Without that, you’d need an evacsuit to survive the radiation inside for more than a few hours.”

“Where is everyone?” Her Glory was subdued; her body hunched low over her legs. “I’ve been here before. There should be workers here. Those to greet us. Other ships.”

“There were when I left,” Nik said. Mac, hearing that slight edge, glanced at him. His face was expressionless.
Never a good sign.
“My people will be in their quarters. We set up a com relay there. That way.” He pointed to a door, its frame askew with that characteristic Dhryn slant.

Just then, a side hatch opened on the
Impeci,
sending a wash of brighter light outward along with its ramp. A figure appeared, calling out even as he began to stumble in their direction. “Nik? Is that you?”

“What the hell—” Nik took off at a run. “Tucker!” She understood the horror in his voice as Cavendish drew close enough for her to see clearly.

The man staggered more than walked. When the two met, Nik grabbed and held him. Mac and the two aliens hurried to join them.

Nik had had isolated burns, already healing. The face Cavendish turned to greet them with was a mass of weeping sores and hanging implants, as if the flesh beneath the skin was dissolving away. His eyes were the only thing sane within that madness. Sane and, when they fell on Her Glory, filled with wonder. “What are you?” he asked, his lips bleeding with the words, enunciating with care.

Because he’d lost most of his teeth,
she realized with a sick shock. Mac eased her shoulder under Cavendish’s other arm, helping to support his weight, careful of what she touched. “We have to get you home—”

“What were you doing in there? Where’s your suit?” Nik interrupted furiously, though his hands were gentle. “I gave strict orders to stay away from the ship—”

“Had to . . . come back. Stay inside. She can’t control . . . warned . . . us . . . stay in the ship.” Cavendish gasped between each burst of words, but didn’t stop. “She’s running out of Dhryn. Feeders . . . entered our quarters. Took . . . took . . . we’ve lost a few. Rest of us . . . figured . . . better the radiation . . . wouldn’t be long before we got off . . . share the suits. Now you’re here.” This with a trusting look.

From where she stood, Mac could see how Nik’s free hand clenched into a tight fist, but when he answered, it was warm and reassuring. “You’ll be fine, Tucker.”

Others appeared at the hatch, walking down the ramp. One, two Humans, an Imrya. Then no more.

Was that all?
Mac watched Nik mouth names as they approached, his face growing pale.

Only two wore protective gear. She suddenly remembered Nik’s battle with Cinder, her mind now filling in the rest.
Cinder’s sabotage—she’d gone after the suits.
None looked as gravely ill as Cavendish. Mac looked her question at Nik. “You stayed on the coms all the time I was gone, didn’t you, Tucker?” he asked, his voice soft. To Mac, “Even in a suit, exposure adds up.”

“Thought you might call,” Cavendish said, then convulsed in a cough.

“There are medical supplies on my dart.” Fy took over from Mac and Nik, using her fingers to form a slinglike seat for the ill Human. Cavendish leaned back in that support, his head lolling against the stained white of her gown. “Sinzi,” he managed.

Though all from the
Impeci
had suffered radiation burns, the two remaining researchers, especially the Imrya, were in far better shape than the ship’s pilot. He needed help to walk, and exhibited more burns to his skin. Mac guessed he’d traded shifts at the
Impeci’s
com with Cavendish. He’d been the ship’s pilot. Now, he couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder.

Grim-faced, Nik told them what had transpired on the
Annapolis Joy
. Mac watched the hope of rescue fade from the faces of those who’d been waiting for it. There was no protest, only quiet questions.
A measure of Nik’s colleagues,
she judged.

While this went on, Cavendish and the pilot, Bhar Dass, were made as comfortable as possible in the Sinzi’s tiny ship. Nik ordered the Imrya—
whose name Mac couldn’t pronounce
—and her Human colleague, Fiora Parrish, to stay and care for them. “We may have to run for it,” he told them when they protested. “I want you here, ready to go. We’ll keep in touch.” He showed them the remote links the Sinzi had provided. “You’re sure you can use the com system?” This to the Imrya. “It’s not quite IU standard.”

The alien looked at the Sinzi, who nodded. “We Imrya are honored to be the first recipients of improvements by the gracious Sinzi. I am familiar with this system.”

Nik didn’t look surprised. “Monitor what’s happening outside and keep us posted.”

“Should I broadcast a detailed advisement not to fire on this ship, given the presence of the Sinzi-ra?” The Imrya clutched her recorder tightly, as if she’d like to mention the presence of that as well.

Hand over proof to those already worrying about a Dhryn/Sinzi connection?
Mac touched Nik’s sleeve; he met her eyes and nodded before turning back to the Imrya. “Given the situation, let’s not get specific. Just say this is a nonhostile ship, under truce.”

The pilot raised his head, his eyes haunted. “Is it?”

“We’ll find out,” Nik promised.