The Sum of Her Parts (12 page)

Ingrid smiled appreciatively. “If that’s an invitation, thank you. But we can’t stay. We have things to do. Places to go.”

“Death to meet,” Whispr muttered, breaking his brief silence.

Ingrid glared at him again, but Nyala was not disturbed. “We all have death to meet. Meerkat by cobra or leopard or jackal or bird. Human by gun or bomb or evil words. I prefer some day be taken by eagle. Is honest death and one creature feed another. When humans kill each other, no animal benefits from it—not even humans. You are wasters of the world.”

Ingrid felt compelled to demur. “I recycle religiously.”

“Other things. Not self. Only artificial doings, to make yourself feel better.” Nyala turned and barked something to her mob. “We will help you. We claim kill.”

As the two travelers looked on, the mob swarmed over Quaffer’s body and bent to work digging into a raised spot on one side of the soft ravine bed. Sand flew high and far enough to force Ingrid and Whispr to turn their heads away and shield their eyes with their hands. Occasional quick glimpses revealed what the meerkats were up to: they were preparing to bury the body.

“This—this isn’t necessary,” Ingrid told Nyala. “The desert scavengers will take care of him.”

“We desert scavengers, too,” the meerkat leader informed her. “We—recycle. Not for meat, but for body’s water. All fluid precious here.”

Ingrid had a vision of a dozen meerkats taking bites out of the sand-covered corpse’s back and lapping up the outflow from the fleshy maniped water sac. The image rendered Nyala and her companions somewhat less cuddly.

“I give you gift of participating. You may share,” the meerkat declared.

“Thanks.” Ingrid smiled wanly. “We have water with us, we know the location of the water holes ahead of us, and in an emergency we have devices that can pull water from the air.”

Nyala stared at her. The energy being displayed by her mob was truly prodigious. Already Quaffer was disappearing beneath a blizzard of expertly flung sand and soil.

“So much smart. So much stupid.” Turning away from the human, the meerkat matron scampered over to the guide’s corpse to supervise the final bits of the ongoing burial.

Normally, Nyala told Ingrid as evening descended, meerkats obtained all the moisture they need from the assortment of snakes, lizards, insects, arachnids, and the occasional small bird they consumed.
But when other liquids became accessible they did not hesitate to avail themselves of the source. The stored water that flowed from the maniped back of the dead freewalker must have struck them as surprising as the flash flood did the two human visitors days earlier.

Having sipped from the fleshy storage sac of the nearly buried guide until their bellies bulged, they sprawled themselves out on the sand like so many miniature intoxicated guards. As it grew darker the only sound in the sheltered ravine was the occasional lap-lap of a tiny tongue, like a butterfly tap-dancing, as another of the mob took one last drink of the precious fluid that was of no further use to the intruding desert Meld.

Normally Whispr tried to sleep as close to his companion as she would allow. Not this night. Finding semi-shelter beneath a partial overhang he rolled himself up in his blanket with his back pressed tightly against the rock wall. Though he was loathe to admit it, while the weasels or mongooses or rats or whatever they were had undeniably saved them from Quaffer’s single-minded madness, he was more than a little mistrustful of the sharp-toothed little vampires. Anything that could bite through a restraint band could bite through a neck. The meerkats’ partial demolition and rapid interment of the freewalker had done nothing to mitigate his wariness.

So he lay awake watching for the unheralded approach of small eyes in the darkness. The only advantage their eerie bipedal presence conferred was that he was so busy keeping an eye on them that he forgot all about the possible presence of far more noxious natives such as scorpions and dancing white lady spiders.

Perhaps naïvely, perhaps out of empathy, Ingrid felt no such concerns. In the lonely vastness of the Namib where the only human beings they had encountered since leaving Orangemund were a half-mad hermit and an even madder diamond hunter, the magified meerkats seemed more human than any of their recent
contacts. While only the leader of the mob could speak, all of them were imbued with a depth of compassion that arose from having been ripped from their homes and families and transported to a far-off research facility where their brains and nervous systems could be experimented upon for the ultimate amusement of other mammals boasting bigger bodies and smaller souls. Where they made Whispr nervous, they fostered in Ingrid Seastrom only empathy and curiosity. The former was the doctor in her, the latter the scientist.

“What will you do now?” she asked Nyala by the glow of a small portable light. Standing in its shadows, the leader of the mob was picking her teeth with an unpoisoned Codon spine.

“What we have done since returning here from Bethlehem. Raise our families, play, eat, survive. What our kind has always done.”

“You’re not afraid those who were experimenting on you illegally will try to track you down and take you back?”

Nyala let out a rapid chittering sound. It might have been meerkat laughter. “None of us embedded. No trackers planted in us. There was—no need. We could not escape. And if we escape, where we go? Certainly not all way back here. Not all way back—to the Namib.” Her tone grew darker. “It be easier for them collect innocent lives of others to destroy.”

Lying wrapped in her blanket, her head resting on one hand, Ingrid studied the dominant female. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Meerkats not like humans,” Nyala told her. “We fight all time. For territory, for hunting rights, for best burrow-digging places.”

“Sounds like humans to me,” Whispr called out from his chosen sanctuary on the other side of the gully.

Nyala ignored him. “What happen to other meerkats not concern me. Only my mob concern me. My mob and my children. Pass on genes.”

Ingrid considered thoughtfully. “I thought we were more alike than that, you and I.”

“Warm blood not everything.” In the most humanlike pose she had displayed since first putting in an appearance in the ravine, Nyala put her right paw over her heart. “What here is everything.” She looked around. “Not good be caught out at night outside burrow. Too many eaters of meerkat.”

“I’d think the presence of Whispr and myself would make anything smaller than a leopard hesitant to come close.”

“Yes, is true.” Nyala nodded agreement. “Human stink frighten off most everything. No burrows here. I go find patch of warm sand. I wish no moon to you, woman.”

“My name is Ingrid.”

“In-gred. Yes, Ingred. You sleep. Always good have nice sleep before sunrise. Maybe sun bring food, maybe sex, maybe fight. Maybe death.”

T
HE HEAT WOKE HER.
Something was wrong. Constantly adjusting to both the ambient external temperature and that of her body, the biothermosensitive blanket was supposed to keep her comfortable even in extreme conditions. Blinking in the darkness, as her eyes adjusted to the starlight she quickly saw the problem. And smiled to herself. Lying back down she told herself firmly that there was nothing she could do. She would just have to deal with the increased temperature.

Smothered beneath thirty snoring meerkats, she soon fell back into a deep, contented, and very warm sleep.

F
OR THE DOCTOR FROM
Savannah the following morning dawned crisp, clear, and—except for her mercurial Meld of a companion—alone.

Sitting up fast she first checked the opposite ends of the gulch
before letting her gaze travel to the winding rim above. There was nothing. No piercing jet-black eyes, no quivering nostrils, no inquisitive stares returned her gaze. The only movement came from a speckled lizard poking its head out of a crack in the rocks. In the absence of warming sunshine it swiftly withdrew. Something large and black-winged soared past high overhead, checking to see if the two figures that had been slumbering on the sand were alive or dead. The reality of Ingrid’s movements sent it soaring away disappointed.

Across the way Whispr was also starting to wake up. When he saw her sitting up and intently scanning their surroundings he struggled to shrug off the last vestiges of a sleep that clung to him like old cobwebs.

“What is it, doc? Something the matter?”

“They’re gone.” Disappointment as well as resignation colored her reply. “All of them.”

Slipping free of his blanket Whispr rose to his feet and stretched, a human scarecrow pushing slow fists skyward. “The weasels—sorry, mongooses. They’re gone?” Scratching himself, he performed his own morning inspection of the narrow gulch. All was quiet, still, and exactly as might be expected of such a tranquil scene—provided one ignored the recently raised mound of freshly excavated sand and dirt off to one side. As he began fiddling with his gear he noted that a hopeful Ingrid continued to eye the ravine’s rim.

“You miss ’em, don’t you?”

She nodded. “They were—charming. And that Nyala: certainly the most interesting illegal experiment I ever met.”

He grunted as he pulled out a breakfast envelope and carefully added water from his pak. As the liquid reacted with the catalyst in the packaging material the dehydrated contents rapidly began to heat.

“Haven’t made the acquaintance of any illegal experiments myself. Though I have met one or two Melds who should have been.” He gestured with his quickly warming, expanding breakfast. “Aren’t you hungry? Better eat something even if you’re not. More walking today.” He shook the bulging envelope gently, the better to mix and evenly heat the contents. “You’ll need the energy. Never know in a place like this when a meal might be your last one.”

Ignoring his characteristic pessimism she continued to scrutinize the rocky overhangs even as she prepared her own food. Sipping a mix of hot cereal, milk, sugar, and reconstituted berries, he sat and watched, unable to understand her fascination.

“Look,” he finally said, “I know the little cat-rats saved our butts.” For emphasis he nodded in the direction of the unprepossessing mound beneath which lay the body of the freewalker Quaffer. “But they’re gone, and I for one don’t miss ’em.” He made a rude noise. “Sure they were heavily magified, but they were also too close to full wild and they had too many teeth. Not to mention their little nightymare poison darts.”

Ingrid was shaking her own breakfast to life. “Well, I do miss them. I’ve never heard of a nonprimate being raised to true sentience, not even illegally. It would have been enthralling to get Nyala’s perspective on so many things.” She spoke wistfully. “Who knows? Maybe they could even have helped us get into Nerens.”

At this Whispr smiled and began shaking his head. Her brows drew together as she challenged him.

“What? What’d I say?”

Setting his empty biodegradable food container aside he chuckled briefly before meeting her eyes. “Doc—Ingrid—you have more knowledge of science in your pretty little pinkie than I do in my whole besotted brain, but I have more in common with street folk.” He gestured upward, toward the sand and gravel plain that was cracked by the ravine. “Those mere cats, they were kinda like little
subgrubs. A gang permanently on the run from the authorities.” His laughter faded. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m thankful as hell their leader decided to get all noble on us and vape the freewalker. It was getting bad squeeze there for a few minutes and I don’t like to think what would’ve happened if they hadn’t showed up. But spine-tickling one Meld is one thing. Exposing themselves to the authorities, even private security such as SICK’s, for a cause that doesn’t involve them, is more of a risk than your typical street snarks are willing to take. Even,” he concluded, “if the snarks in question happen to hold a patent on cute.”

Casual pondering of her companion’s heartfelt observations left a reluctant Ingrid no choice but to agree with his judicious assessment of meerkat motivation. Despite all he and she had been through together she was still not in a position to challenge the wisdom of someone who held an advanced degree in the acumen of the street. Downing the last of her liquid eggs Benedict, she set the empty package aside and shouldered her pack. After adjusting the straps she took a moment to ensure that the pressure-sensitive inflatable pads were correctly positioned. Bending, she picked up her wide-brimmed thermosensitive hat and nodded in his direction.

“All set. Let’s go.” She squinted skyward. “Nerens won’t come to us.” A hand gestured up the gulch. “We keep on straight?”

Whispr checked their remaining communicator, glanced up, checked it again. “It’s something like ten k’s to the next permanent water hole. About half along this creek bed, the rest exposed up top.”

“Then we’d better get moving.” Making a final adjustment to her pack’s position, she started past him.

“Hey, slow down, doc! You’ll burn out before lunch.” He hurried to catch up to her. “You’re still having regrets about losing your
pets, aren’t you? Don’t think about it.” He tried to lift her spirits. “Maybe we’ll run into the mob again.”

“Yeah, that’s likely,” she mumbled.

They hiked in silence for nearly an hour before he spoke up again. “This affection for the little critters, doc: it wouldn’t have anything to do with you not having kids, would it?”

Hemmed in on both sides by layers of ancient sandstone she looked at him sharply, then shook her head. “We’ve spent a lot of time in each other’s company, Whispr, but I swear there are times when I just can’t figure you. Like right now I can’t decide if you’re being perceptive or just utterly ignorant of the meaning of the word ‘tact.’ ”

Her pointed retort did not faze him in the slightest. Words never did. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And because of your attitude, I’m not going to.”

Lengthening her stride, she deliberately moved out ahead of him. He shrugged and maintained his pace, content to follow. Not that he really gave a damn one way or the other about how she might have answered. Then why had he asked the question? No wonder she baffled him.