Survival (29 page)

“Don't worry about me, Tie.” Mac put her arm around his shoulders and gave him an affectionate squeeze before letting go. “The last place I want to stay right now is in here. It's going to take weeks to clean this up—let alone put everything together again.” She didn't bother adding that her office was worse. He knew. “Did you get all our gear packed up?”

“Done by noon.” He found a smile for her. “Only problem I had was convincing McGregor and Beiz to stop sunbathing so we could get back to Base. If it wasn't for the situation—” Here his voice finally faltered.

“It's okay, Tie,” Mac said softly. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Nik and the “officer” were finished with their private chat. “I'm heading to the mainland this evening anyway. They're putting me up in a fancy hotel, with room service. What do you think of that?”

He brightened. “I think it's a great idea, Mac. You make sure you take full advantage. Just don't be gone long.”

Something she couldn't promise
. “Kammie has the reins,” Mac assured him instead. “You keep things working for her until I'm back. Deal?”

This didn't sit well at all. She could see it in the unhappy look in his eyes. But Tie wouldn't argue, not with Outside Authority in the form of the bureaucrat and police officer now moving their way. He ducked his head to her in mute agreement, then started to leave, only to turn back. “Mac. I'm sorry. I don't know where my head's been. Your dad called again.”

Mac blinked, then remembered. She'd promised to call him back—what was it now, last night? Something so normal and sane as talking to her father seemed improbable.
She'd have to do it, though
. “Thanks, Tie. You didn't say anything about what's been going on, did you?”

He looked offended. “ 'Course not, Mac. You know me better than that. I told him you were resting.”

Mac hid a wince. Now she'd really have to call, and soon.
Resting?
Her Dad wouldn't believe that even without the bonus of an alien guest during her field season.
She'd be lucky if he didn't show up on the next t-lev out of Vancouver.
“Perfect,” she told Tie, forcing a smile.

“Everything all right?” Nik asked, coming up as Tie made his exit.

“Perfect,” Mac echoed, but gave the word a more appropriate intonation. When Nik looked interested, she gave a noncommittal shrug. “Nothing to do with this.”

The officer, a stocky woman whose dark eyes, coppered skin, and straight black hair spoke of a heritage along this coast almost as old as the salmon themselves, gave Mac a look that likely memorized everything from braid to shoe size before saying to Nik: “If that's all, sir, I'd like to check on Simeon's progress.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dismissed, the officer nodded and left without another word.

“So,” Mac said as soon the door closed and they were alone. “What did your friend have to say?”

“Friend? Officer LaFontaine? There's been no change in Brymn's condition.”

A shade too innocent,
Mac thought, but didn't press the issue. “Tie said that, too.” They both looked at the unconscious alien.

The Dhryn wasn't moaning anymore. Mac hoped that was an improvement. Otherwise, he lay exactly as she and Nik had left him, his arms curled over his torso, his thick legs bent back at their main joint and splayed. The sheet over him had soaked through with dark blue exudate in several spots. More liquid of that color puddled down Brymn's left side, the one closest to where they stood, flowing off the mattress onto the floor. It hadn't dried or congealed, suggesting it continued to flow. On the other hand, there wasn't enough of it to suggest the alien had lost a significant amount of a vital fluid.

Or maybe he had.
Mac thought wistfully of the xeno course in her imp and promised herself time to read it before much more took place.

Unlike Emily's quarters, some effort had been made to push the remains of furniture and torn bedding aside. Mac assumed this had been to accommodate the various doctors and other Human experts trying to puzzle out the Dhryn's comatose state. There was only one vidbot, aimed at Brymn.

“However,” Nik continued, “The officer did pass along one bit of news. The police think they've found your eavesdropper.”

Mac looked at him, eyes wide. “And?”

“Human. Career thief. Several recent names. Born Otto Rkeia. He didn't come in with the media crush, but I imagine all the unfamiliar faces let him move around pretty much as he pleased. Probably swam in under cover of darkness.”

“If he did,” Mac said confidently, “we'll have a recording. We may not have much in the way of security from intruders, but we pay a great deal of attention to what moves in the water under the pods.”

“Good. I'll have it checked. The more we can find out about Rkeia's movements, the better.”

“You can't ask—” Mac stopped at his thumbs-down gesture. “Oh. Where did they find the body?” she asked, momentarily aghast at the calmness of her own voice.
Maybe she was learning to deal with repeated shocks. Maybe this is how the police—how Nikolai himself—dealt with such things as violence.

“Your eager rescuers found it under Pod Six.”

Yuck
. Mac flinched. “I don't suppose it was an accident.”

Nik snorted. “Not unless you can accidentally glue yourself to a support strut, thirty meters down. They're estimating time of death now.” He shot a look upward, to where the remains of the adhesive netting still starred the ceiling. “Not too much of a stretch to believe our invisible friends were responsible.”

“So they kill people.”

“They
took
Emily, Mac,” he responded, understanding her fear. “If they'd wanted her dead, there was no need for that.”

As comfort, it was as cold and dark as thirty meters below the pod, but Mac made herself accept it. “Jirair—Dr. Grebbian—can help you determine when the body went in the water, if that helps.” At Nik's interrogative look, she added: “He studies zooplankton, particularly those with a sessile component to their life cycle. Mr. Rkeia's body will have been colonized by several species. Jirair can tell how long each has been growing.”

“That could be useful.” Nik went to the com on the wall and passed a message to the forensics team to contact Grebbian. “Done,” he said, coming back a moment later. “Thanks, Mac.” He gave her a searching look. “How are you doing?”

She licked dry lips and gave a curt nod. “Better than he is. What can we do?”

He joined her in staring down at Brymn. “We have next to no data on Dhryn. Any thoughts?”

“I study—”

“—salmon,” Nik finished for her. He smiled slightly. “Think of it as having no preconceptions in your way.”

“I don't know,” she replied slowly, but obediently walked around the alien on her floor. The first thing Mac noticed was a modest, regular expansion and contraction of his upper torso.
Great,
she mocked.
I can tell he's breathing
. There was a monitor on the floor connected to a sensor affixed to what corresponded to a chest. Its display was a confusion of peaks and valleys that bore no resemblance to any electrical rhythms Mac had ever seen in a vertebrate.

As she walked around a second time, she undid the knot of braid on her neck, then the braid itself. The third time, she started braiding her hair again, then stopped, fingers paused in mid-twist. “Play Jabulani's recording,” she suggested.

Nik, who'd stood by watching her pace, obediently pulled out his imp, but didn't activate it. “Do you have a scientific basis for this experiment, Dr. Connor?”

Mac finished her braid and dropped it down her back. “Not really.”

His mouth quirked. “Stand back, then. In case it works.”

No reaction from Brymn that Mac could see, although her heart jumped. From the look on Nik's face, he wasn't too happy with the sound either.

Nothing.

“Here comes the last one,” he warned her.

A quiver raced along those of Brymn's arms Mac could see, starting from each shoulder and ending with a spasmodic opening of his fingers. Then nothing.

An identical quiver. Nothing more.

Before Nik could play the sound again, Mac raised her hand. “That's it!” she exclaimed. “The missing part. I knew there was something between the ‘spit' and the ‘pop.' It wasn't something our ears could detect—but his should. It might make the difference.” She hurried to the com. “Dr. Connor. Put me through to the Pred lab.”

As she waited, she explained to Nik: “The Preds listen to infrasound all the time—from whales. They'll have something we can try.”

“Predator Research, Seung here. What can we do for you, Mac?”

“I need you to play a single pulse, ten Hz, through the com for me. Fifty dB will do.” She waved her companion over to the com. He understood, holding up his imp to catch the sound.

“Just a minute.” A muttering of voices, some incredulous, then something bounced along the floor. Likely a basketball—the Pred lab wasn't the most formal. Mac shrugged at Nik's look. After “just a minute” stretched into three, Mac was about to signal again when Seung said: “Ready. Pulse in three, two, one . . .” The following silence made Nik look at her in question. She nodded confidently as the com came alive again. “There you go, Mac. Glad to help. Any word on Em?”

Mac met Nik's eyes. “Not yet,” she said into the com. “Thanks, guys. Dr. Connor out.”

“Now what?”

“I'm convinced Brymn's speech includes infrasound—sounds below the frequency detected by the Human ear. If he utters it, he should be able to hear it. When Jabulani was trying to recreate the ‘spit/pop' sound I'd heard, that's what was missing.”

“A sound you couldn't hear. How can you know?” he asked with a slight frown.

Mac stroked the hairs on her forearm. “If you're close enough to the source of infrasound, you feel it,” she said, remembering. She pulled out her imp. “Send me your 'screen,” she ordered, walking closer to Brymn. “I'll key the sounds through mine.”

When nothing appeared in front of her eyes, Mac turned to frown at him. “I know what I'm doing,” she argued.

“I'm sure you do,” Nik countered, “but our devices aren't compatible. Tell me what you want and I'll do it.” He approached, the 'screen from his imp disconcertingly afloat to the left of his face.

It looked like an ordinary enough imp to her, and he'd used it with Denise's equipment, but Mac didn't waste time arguing—although she did think dark thoughts about spies and their toys. “Play just the ‘spit' of sound number three followed by Seung's pulse. We'll add the ‘pop' later if necessary.”

He nodded, drawing the fingers of his left hand through the display. “Now.”

They might not hear a difference, but the Dhryn certainly did. As Nik played the sounds, the body on the floor convulsed upward, arching from neck to foot. Mac stepped back as the wire to the monitor ripped clear. Brymn's six arms stretched out as if grabbing for holds. His seventh arm shot straight up through the sheet, ripping it as if it were paper. An instant later, he went limp.

“I'd say that had an effect,” Nik said dryly.

Mac walked over to the Dhryn and pulled the remains of her sheet from his body and arm, avoiding contact with any of the blue stains. “Insufficient. Didn't wake him,” she said, shaking her head. “Add the final component of the sound.”

“We don't know—”

She shot a look at Nik any of her students would have recognized in an instant. “That's the reason we're here, isn't it? Play the sequence.”

“Move away first.”

Mac obeyed.

Nik raised his hand to the 'screen in midair, then jabbed one finger into its heart.

For a terrifying moment, Mac thought they weren't alone.

Brymn let out a roar and surged to his feet. Nik leaped back, having come close to underestimating the reach of the Dhryn's wildly moving upper arms. For a moment, all Mac could tell was that the alien was alive and awake; she wasn't convinced he was sane or safe.

Then, like the branches of a great tree swaying in a storm, the six paired arms began to move in unison, from side to side, lower and lower, gradually coming to a rest at Brymn's sides. The seventh, always moving in opposition to the rest, tucked itself under an upper armpit. Then, finally, his eyes snapped open—along with his mouth.

Mac grinned at Nik as they both covered their ears. “I never thought I'd be happy to hear that again!” she shouted at him over the din.

As if her voice had been a switch, Brymn stopped keening. His eyes came to rest on her. “Mac—?” Then he folded at the knee joints, dropping into his tripod sit with a suddenness that probably hurt.

“
Lamisah
,” she said quickly, hurrying up to him but stopping short of touching any body part. “Are you all right? Can you talk to us?”

“Us?” He appeared to notice Nik for the first time.

That worthy turned off his 'screen and gave a quick bow. “Honorable Delegate. Is there anything you need?” Mac had no trouble interpreting the look he sent her:
let's be sure he's stable first.

“A drink, maybe?” she added helpfully, looking in vain around her ruined quarters for an intact cup.