Regeneration (Czerneda) (62 page)

She focused on Gillis’ somber face. This Norris wasn’t the man she’d known.

“Like many species within the Interspecies Union,” Gillis began, “Humans respect the remains of our dead. We are negotiating to recover those of Dr. Sigmund Eduardo Norris as soon as possible without risk to others. We leave no one behind.”

Mac judged this as much a promise to the Origins Team and the shuttle crew, gathered around the podium with them, as to Norris.

Might not be having the desired impact on civilian scientists.
Mirabelle and Lyle looked more worried than reassured. She understood completely. The last time they’d been at Sencor’s research outpost on Myriam, their biggest concern had been sandstorms and funding. Suddenly, they had the promise of the captain of a dreadnought to stand by them in case of emergency. They had to wonder what he was anticipating that to be.

Captain Gillis said a few more words. Mac and the others listened. She was impressed. He didn’t pretend to know Norris as more than a passenger, nor did he dwell on the manner of his death. Instead, the captain read from Norris’ curriculum vitae, listing awards and accomplishments, inventions and discoveries—defining his life by his work.

What Norris himself would have done,
Mac decided, and her estimation of the captain rose again.

She was, however, slightly disturbed to think he’d have done much the same had it been her.

When the brief service was done, Gillis came over to her. “Not my favorite part of the job, Dr. Connor,” in a quiet voice.

Mac laid her hand on his arm, the nearest offspring reaching out to do the same with a tiny paw. Gillis looked down and smiled. “You did it well,” she assured him. “I found what you said—” She blanked and finished with more honesty than tact, “I didn’t know his full name until now. Thank you.”

He appeared pleased. She withdrew her hand and gathered in the offspring.

Gillis surveyed the group waiting to board, several lingering nearby for a chance to talk to her. “Important to give them a chance to pay their respects.”

Mac half smiled. “And they got your point, Captain. Though I can’t say it will make them happy to think they might need a warship.”

“I wouldn’t be either,” he said soberly. “Perilous times, Dr. Connor.”

“Mac.”

His eyes smiled. “Mac. I’ll leave you to your farewells.” With a hint of a bow, Gillis walked away.

She hefted the offspring into the crook of her arm, looking around for Mudge and his load.

Lyle came up to her, eyes gleaming. “I can’t believe we’re finally heading home,” he said. “I won’t believe it until I smell the dust.”

Mac chuckled. “I know the feeling—although for me it would be cedar and sea.” She grinned. “Okay, and rotting fish, but don’t spread that around.”

He rolled his eyes, grinning back. “Trust me. I’ll keep your secret.” A more considering look. “Charles says you two will be joining us shortly. Pleasant surprise. Thought they’d be keeping you busy with the derelicts for weeks yet.”

Mac shrugged. “Politics.”

“Should have guessed.” The archaeologist’s smile widened. “But if it gets you downworld sooner, that’s fine with me.”

“Thanks, Lyle.” She was touched.
They’d come a long way.
“You’d better go,” she added, understanding why his eyes kept flicking to the loading platform.
Heading to the field.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Will do. And you behave.” Others came up even as Lyle left, swamping Mac with handshakes and kisses and hugs. The offspring clung to her, wide-eyed and excited, patting anyone who came close enough with their paws. Their claws they kept firmly planted in her and Mac began to worry if she’d get them off when the time came.

Out the corner of her eye, she could see Mudge doing his utmost to fend off such overt affection, nodding gravely to each well-wisher before they came too close and holding his pair of offspring to his chest like a shield.

The initial crush worked its way past; everyone was as anxious as Lyle to get on board.
Maybe they thought the captain would change his mind.
Mirabelle, having waited until now, came up and gave Mac a hug. “ ’Bye, Mac.”

Mac shook her head. “Archaeologists,” she complained. “I might see you tomorrow, you know.”

The other woman didn’t smile. “And you might not. Don’t underestimate how we feel about you. We’ve been through so much together, Mac, and you’ve done—well, you’ve done more for us than we could say.”

Mac scrunched her face. “I seem to remember making you work all hours on crazy questions.”

Mirabelle laughed but there was a suspicious brightness to her eyes. “Crazy questions that made us—and our work—significant. Whatever we’ve accomplished to help all of us survive, Mac, we did through you. And we won’t forget that.”

Speechless, Mac watched the woman walk away. Mudge came over. “Glad to see they recognize your contribution, Norcoast,” he said quietly.

She snorted, shifting offspring. “They need to get back to work. We all—” Mac stopped to pull off the one gumming her chin. “Where’s Unensela?” She hadn’t spotted the Myg during the ceremony or good-byes. “Is she already on board?” She wasn’t in the line to enter.

“She is late.” Two of the tall, shaggy Sthlynii approached, Therin and Naman, his—with their complex, overlapping families, Mac had yet to figure out if Naman was an uncle or son.
Maybe both.
Naman and the remaining two Sthlynii in Origins rarely spoke aloud to anyone but each other. They were, to Mudge’s delight, expert memo writers. Therin blew out his tentacles with annoyance. “We maaaaaaay nooooot waaaiit.”

As if his voice had been a signal, the offspring dropped from Mac and Mudge to climb up the Sthlynii, disappearing within their thick tunics as if they’d done it before.
Into pockets,
she realized, as six big-eyed heads popped back out, paws holding what appeared to be candy to their mouths. “YumyumyumyumyumMac!” they sang happily around the treat.

“That’s bribery!” Mudge accused, his hands still raised as if holding the small creatures. He dropped them to his sides at Mac’s grin. “Well, it is.”

Therin’s tentacles milled in what Mac had learned meant amusement. “We miss our younglings, Charles. Caring for these sweet beings—” his hands patted several purring lumps, “—is a privilege. We mind them for Unensela as often as we can.”

Mudge swallowed whatever objection he thought he had, perhaps, like Mac, relieved the offspring would have someone responsible watching over them on Myriam.

“There she is,” Mudge said, then gave a sharp
harrumph.
“I knew it.”

His tone warned Mac. Sure enough, two Mygs, not one, were walking down the accessway toward the loading platform.
No,
Mac squinted,
make that one walking and the other jumping from foot to foot as if avoiding hot coals.

The shouting became audible as the couple closed on them.

“IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT!” This from Unensela, who shouted the word continuously without turning to look at Fourteen.

He was the one hopping—and babbling. “Please, Glorious One. Your eyes are hidden chips of wet agate. Your tongue—let me tell you about your tongue . . .”

“IRRELEVANT!”

Needless to say, everyone else in earshot stopped what they were doing. Well, except for Kudla and his disciples, clutching bags Mac hoped contained frog statuettes. They used the distraction to move to the head of the boarding line and enter the shuttle.
Presumably anxious to resume communing.

She looked forward to his next book.

Meanwhile, they had a problem.

Fourteen had finally managed to stop Unensela. The tactic of falling flat on the floor in front of his ladylove was perhaps not original, but Mac gave him points for drama.

The focus of all this was less impressed. Unensela kicked him in the midsection. “You are without
strobis
!” she shrieked. Fourteen curled his arms around his abused middle and kept his mouth closed. “There is nothing I want from you! Nothing!”

Aliens.
Mac sighed and stepped forward. Mudge gave her a horrified look. She made a face at him, then turned to the Mygs. “Do I have
strobis,
Unensela?”

Unensela stared at Mac “Irrelevant. You don’t know our ways. Don’t interfere. This—” another kick, “—is worthless.”

They weren’t,
Mac noticed,
particularly hard kicks.
Nor was Fourteen complaining, as if any attention was better than none.
More telling,
she sniffed,
the air was free of Myg distress
. “Does my life have value to the whole?”

“Idiot.” The female Myg’s mouth turned sullen. “Of course it does. We would not all follow you if it didn’t.”

“Which would be why Arslithissiangee Yip the Fourteenth offered his allegiance to me last year, before you two met.”

She might have sprouted a second head and startled the Myg less.
Unless that was in a brochure, too,
Mac chuckled to herself.

“You . . .” Unensela dropped to her knobby knees beside Fourteen. Her hands hovered over him. Perhaps wary of her mood, he remained in a defensive curl. “Is this true, Tickles?”

A cautious nod.

Unensela’s hands covered her face and she dropped backward to land on her rump, the picture of misery. “All is lost!”

So much for that plan.
Mac sighed.
She really should leave aliens alone.

Mudge
harrumphed.
“I believe,” he said in his “officious” voice, “there is some confusion here. If I may, Norcoast?”

“Please,” she told him.

“ ‘Tickles,’ ” he used the nickname with obvious relish, “vowed himself to Dr. Connor’s service in lieu of any other suitable offering. At a time when his circumstances were,
ahem,
somewhat less complex. I believe, if you ask her, she will tell you his service is no longer required.”

“Absolutely,” Mac agreed, having no clue where Mudge was going.

Fourteen rose on one elbow, the aim of his tiny eyes shifting from Unensela to Mac and back. “You no longer need me, Mac?” he asked in a heart-wrenching voice. Beads of moisture dotted his eyelids. “It is because I failed you, isn’t it? I will do better next time. I have been studying sabotage techniques in my spare time. And explosives. You will see! I will throw myself into danger’s mouth for you!”

Wonderful.
Mac glared at Mudge. His lips shaped the words “trust me.” “Irrelevant!” he shouted, in a perfect imitation of Fourteen at his most obnoxious.
He’d heard enough of it,
she realized. “Insufficient! Insulting! Dr. Connor requires the ultimate sacrifice.”

She did?
While Mudge on a roll was a thing of beauty, as evidenced by the rapt attention of those around them, Mac was growing concerned by the direction this seemed to be going.
Was the man after revenge for all those practical jokes?

Then she noticed Unensela, who had moved her hands just enough to give Fourteen a wistful look.

“ ‘The ultimate sacrifice,’ ” Mac echoed, putting some gusto into it.

Fourteen clambered to his knees, dividing his earnest pleading look between Mudge, Unensela, and Mac, as if unsure who needed to be influenced most. “I would if I could,” he exclaimed. “But I’ve no offspring of my own.”

The offspring already present sucked candy noisily, seeming entertained by it all. Mac spared a moment to wonder at the sheer chaos that must be a Myg family night.

“You could have.” Unensela’s hands fell into her lap. “If you were free to devote the appropriate effort, that is.” This with a sly look at Mac.
The scamp wasn’t the least confused by the Human-Myg interface.

Mac felt a certain sympathy for Fourteen.
Still, he was the one who’d rapturously compared Unensela’s beady little eyes to wet agate.
“Oh, he’s free to do whatever it takes,” she proclaimed. “So long as
strobis
is maintained.” One of the crew arrived and stood looking anxious in the background; when he saw she’d noticed, he waved and pointed to the shuttle. “Perhaps we could move this along? The captain,” Mac added, “would like the shuttle to depart on schedule.”

Fourteen rose to his feet, then gave a deep bow from the waist. He put both hands over his eyes. “I, Arslithissiangee Yip the Fourteenth, can never hope to repay you, Mackenzie Connor of Little Misty Lake, for saving my valued life, more than once. If service to your
strobis
is not enough, then I, Arslithissiangee Yip the Fourteenth, can only offer my firstborn offspring to you, Mackenzie Connor of Little Misty Lake.”

“That’s really more than I—

Hands went down. A stern look. She closed her mouth.

Hands up. “But to fulfill this obligation, I, Arslithissiangee Yip the Fourteenth, however unworthy, must now apply to the inestimable, the glorious, the—”

The shuttle?
Mac wanted to say, but restrained herself. The forks of Unensela’s tongue were hanging out.

“—brilliant Unensela to accept my allegiance, flesh, mind, and spirit, so long as I may live.” His hands came down, one reaching out. “Will you accept?”

The brilliant Unensela took his hand and pulled herself up, pausing to brush at her coat. “Took you long enough.” This with an affectionate push at Fourteen’s chest.

Both Mygs,
Mac thought,
looked remarkably smug.

And the waiting member of the crew looked remarkably desperate.

“You’ll make your grandsires very happy,” she hazarded. “Now, sorry to rush you, but those heading to the planet should go—”

She was talking to thin air. Both Mygs turned and started walking toward the shuttle, arms around each other. Therin and Naman, with the offspring, followed behind.