Survival (36 page)

Mac stiffened, fear rinsing away thoughts of warmth, in water or otherwise. “Then one or more could have come with us—could be on the 'station now.”

“Given their capabilities?” She felt Nik spread apart the braids which had been twisted together, then begin to untwist the tiny braids of the one over her left shoulder.
No denying he was undoing the mass more quickly than she could
. “If not with you, then on any ship. All we can do is make sure we keep what secrets we can from them. It might be for the best that you refused to go with the Dhryn. That may have confused the issue, forced any Ro who were watching to decide which of you to follow.”

Mac squeezed her eyes closed. Squeezed her hands into fists. Squeezed her thoughts into the tightest possible focus. Amazingly, her voice came out sounding almost calm. “I said my name. Outside the box. In the open. Anyone—anything—could have heard.”

“Irrelevant.” A tug. “They already know who you are.”

“You could at least try to be reassuring,” she protested, eyes flashing open.

“Could I?” a chuckle. Dozens of tiny braids tumbled free over her shoulder, a few spontaneously unwinding, and he went to work on the next twisted strand. “What's reassuring, Mackenzie Winifred Elizabeth Wright Connor, is that the Dhryn, particularly our busy Brymn, but also the captain of the
Pasunah
and apparently what passes for their government, also know who you are. And for reasons of their own, they are offering you what they never grant aliens—access to the heart of established Dhryn society, on a Dhryn-only world. Even your Emily didn't manage that, as far as we know.” He sounded like a proud parent.

The lie had been larger than she could have imagined
. Mac saw it with the stunning clarity of a lightning flash in a darkened room, her mind reeling with the afterimage of truth. Licking her lips, groping for calm, she said it out loud: “Which is exactly what you and the Ministry of Extra-Sol Human Affairs were hoping for all along.”

His hands paused the barest instant, then kept un-braiding. “What do you mean?” Casual, but she didn't need to see Nik's face to know its expression.
Wary
.

“You—those who sent you—could have cared less about Brymn's reason for seeking me out. You never thought I'd be of any help either. It was the Nulls—the Ro—you've been after. You've known they were preying on the Dhryn. You let Brymn come to Earth and contact me to bring him where you could watch what happened! You were hoping he'd reveal something about the Nulls. You're probably glad they attacked us!” With that, Mac jerked away and whirled to face him, loose hair and unraveling braids flying in slow motion over her shoulders, breathing heavily with rage that finally had a target. She fumbled at the fastening of the pocket that had kept her envelope safe, drove her hand inside, then pulled it out and threw it at him.

It struck his chest and fell to the floor.

Nik held up the desiccated remains of a banana slug he must have found in her hair, then tossed it after the envelope. “You could be right,” he said, each word slow and distinct. “I wouldn't know. I wouldn't have to know. And I wouldn't ask.” His eyes became chips of stone in a face turned to ice. “A threat to the
species,
Dr. Connor. What part of that didn't you grasp? Where on the scale of that do you and I fall?”

“You put my people at risk—”

“They were at risk already. What's happening out here—” his violent gesture swept in an arc to encompass everything but the planet below, “—is destroying all life in its path. All life! If the Ro are responsible, yes, we'll do anything to stop them. I'll do anything. And from what I know of you, you would, too.”

“I wouldn't put innocent people in danger without at least telling them why! Without giving them a chance to protect themselves!”

Nik surged to his feet. “Haven't you noticed? We don't know how to protect anyone! I can't—I can't even protect you!”

The words rang in the room as they stood, eyes locked. Mac inhaled air warm and moist from his lungs and didn't know which of them moved first to remove any distance between them, didn't know whose lips were more desperate, whose arms held tighter.

She did know Nik was the first to break away.

He thrust her from him so quickly she staggered a step to regain her balance. His face—she might have imagined that flash of vulnerability—became cold and still once more. “It's time to go, Dr. Connor,” he said harshly. “We can't risk the Dhryn leaving without you. I'll let them know you're coming; don't take long getting ready. There's a field med kit in your luggage. You'll have to treat yourself.”

Treat herself?
Mac pressed one hand over the thrill of pain from her rib, brought the other to her throbbing lips. When she pulled it away, there was blood on her fingers. She stared at it, her eyes wide.

His hand appeared in her sight, pressed the envelope into her bloodied one. Her name rippled across the surface in mindless mauve. “Keep that safe and with you at all times,” she heard him say. “No matter what you think of how you got involved, this message authorizes you to claim help and equipment from any Human you encounter.”

Mac lifted her eyes to his face, seeing a smear of blood on his mouth too. Heat flushed her cheeks, but she held her voice as steady as his. “I won't encounter any Humans, will I?”

Instead of answering, Nik went on with a rapid-fire briefing. Mac struggled to pay attention, to quiet the pounding in her ears and chest. “There's a beacon in the handle of the smaller piece of luggage,” he told her. “When the
Pasunah
sets her transect exit, it will send us those coordinates. There's also an imp—use it instead of yours. It has an automated transmitter and whenever you enter a transect, it will squeal a burst containing your latest log entries, coded so only we can translate.”

“How will you find me if I'm not entering a transect?” Mac asked, all too familiar with the unreliability of beacons and transmitters once out of the lab and in the field.
Not to mention some unique problems.
“The Ro can wipe out stored power,” she reminded him.
At least in civilian equipment, like that at Norcoast
. “And what if the Dhryn take these things away from me? What will happen then?”

“There is a backup.” Nik reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. He drew out what looked like a pen.

“I take it—this time—that's not a pen,” Mac ventured, eyeing the thing suspiciously.

“No, it's not.” He held out his empty hand. When she gave him hers, thinking that was what he wanted, he grasped her upper arm instead. “Don't move,” Nik warned as he pressed the tip of the pen to her skin, taking advantage of the tear in her shirt.

Mac yelped as her arm went on fire from shoulder to wrist.
“What are you—?”
But the pain was gone before she could complete the protest.

Nik released her and Mac ran her fingers over intact skin. “Bioamplifier. The nans will replicate your DNA signature, then concentrate in your liver and bone marrow.”

“So you can still find me if I'm in pieces.”

He paid her the compliment of not disputing the point. “Yes. Potentially even a century from now, under the right conditions.”

“Good to know.”
But not the happiest thought,
Mac decided, rubbing her arm, although the technology had interesting potential for her work. She wondered if she could get the specs.

If she ever worked again
.

“There are some important limitations,” Nik continued. “The one of concern to you is that it only works reliably if you're on a planet surface. The artificial gravity of ship or station tends to blur sigs together.”

She appreciated his candor, especially when it answered questions she'd been ready to ask. “So, my orders are to stay on the ground. You don't mind if that's in one piece, do you?”
God, she was getting punchy,
Mac thought. There'd better not be any important decisions in her immediate future.

He frowned. “We are doing everything to minimize any risk—”

“So you can retrieve whatever I learn from the Dhryn about the Ro. I know my value.” The moment the words were out, a gauntlet between them, Mac flushed again. “Nik, I didn't mean . . . I know you . . . This is . . . I'm not . . .” He was looking at her in a way that made it impossible to finish any of it. Mac knew her face had to show everything she was feeling: the bewilderment, the longing, the fear, all served with a hearty dose of pine sap, scratches, healing flash burn, and dirt.

Awkward didn't begin to cover it
.

“You can do this, Mac.”

“If you say so, Mr. Trojanowski,” she replied, fighting to stay calm.

It didn't help Mac's equilibrium when Nik traced her swollen lower lip with a fingertip, his eyes following his finger as if mesmerized. “Just don't get close,” he whispered, as if to himself, then leaned forward and kissed her again, so lightly it might have been a dream.

But all he said next was: “Locating the Ro home system is the priority, Mac. If it helps to keep it personal, remember that's your best chance of finding Emily. We'll stay in touch through regular, open channels, but be aware none of those can be trusted. Don't initiate any contact.”

This wasn't happening,
Mac told herself. Knowing it was, she struggled to be practical. “I don't suppose you put a Dhryn dictionary in that luggage? Anything to let me know what to expect?”

“Hopefully, most can speak Instella. I wish we had a sub-teach ready for Dhryn to send with you, but outside of a few entries in an encyclopedia, no one's bothered to compile one. We're working on it now, believe me. Mac—” This with a glance at his watch.

This was it, then
. The last chance she had to drop to the floor, kicking and screaming that they couldn't make her leave everything she knew, to go to where her only expertise was forbidden and her very species, the alien.

Emily had done it.
She couldn't imagine why.

Mac, at least, had Emily for a reason. Keep it personal, Nik had said.
Good advice.

“Let's not keep them waiting more than necessary,” Mac said calmly. “Give me five minutes. Clothes, please?” She took the bundle he produced from his pouch then, without another word or look, without another touch, headed for the shower.

Nik's footsteps echoed hers, one for one. She didn't dare turn around to see if he was following her, but when Mac reached the door to the stall, she heard the door to the corridor open and close.

She pressed her forehead against the cool metal.

“Emily,” she whispered, listening to the hammering of her heart. “What the hell just happened?”

- Portent -

T
HE CAVES WERE ancient, hallowed, and worn. Ancient, as measured in cycles of mineral and water; hallowed, as sites praised in prayer and storied memory; worn, as befitted the only practical shelter in these hills prone to violent wind. Throughout recorded time, the noblest and humblest cowered and wailed here together while nature unleashed her worst on the mountainside. It was said the caves refused no one.

Had such things mattered to him, Eah, night shepherd and litter runt, would have considered himself one of the humblest to ever set footpads within this, the nearest of the fabled caves to his pasture, the Cave of Serenity. But his was a simple soul, content to have a useful place within his kin-group, and, within that place, he felt all the pride of any Primelord.

No matter the fear raising the bones along his spine, no matter the nervous bleating of his flock, no matter the ominous strength of wind in the valley—that pride made Eah stop inside the entrance to light his torch and show proper respect. The ritual three spits into the dust at his footpads, a gift from his body. The ritual claw scrape along the tall stone godstooth, a gift of his might. The ritual howl—

Before Eah could properly prepare himself to howl, the great depth and resonance of his voice something which had always given him profound satisfaction, his flock, which had never appreciated his voice, bolted for the inside of the cave, running between his legs and past him on either side. They almost knocked him down in their haste. He would have chastened them, but they were mindless beasts, always finding ways to challenge his authority. Surely the gods understood such things and would not take offense. To be safe, Eah sprinkled three handfuls of sweetened grain from the bag at his side on the dust, clawed the stalagmite once more, then drew breath to howl.

A runnel of liquid green trickled toward him in the dust, like a finger reaching out of the darkness. Eah leaped sideways and away, clinging to the rock wall. His ability to jump was another that pleased him, if not his mothers, but this time he trembled. Did he now offend the gods by marking their soft glittering stone with his claws?