Regeneration (Czerneda) (74 page)

Despite the ongoing alarm, the Dhryn must have heard the question. She turned her head to look at Mac, yellow mucus bubbling from her nostrils, then resumed pacing.
Dhryn tears.

Mac didn’t need the short, grim shake of Mudge’s head.

The weaponsfire ended. While the guards closed and sealed the door, Nik came to Mac, weapon still in his hand, and leaned close to be heard. “Are you all right?” His eyes were like flint as they searched for wounds, his mouth tight.

“I couldn’t move. I couldn’t—” she flushed as her voice broke. With an effort, “I thought I could handle it.”

“You warned us, remember?” He laid his free hand along her cheek. “You did just fine, Mac. Now we’d better get—”

“Sir. Head for your quarters and stay there,” one of the guards ordered. “We have to report to stations.” With that, the two ran off toward the main portion of the ship.

“We can’t stay,” Mac said, her voice that of a stranger. Her hand shook as she pointed to the Dhryn. “They want Her dead, they want the past dead. They know She’s here. They’ll keep coming.”

“We participate in the promise,” Ureif said solemnly. “Our dart rests in the consular hangar.”

Nik looked at Mudge. “If Ro think at all like us, that was an advance group with a specific target. The rest will go after ship’s systems, create chaos. We could have a window. Remove what they’re after. They might back off.”

“Dart’s transect-capable,” Mudge agreed, then
harrumphed
firmly. “It’s the best choice. I’m familiar with the specs.”

“So am I.” Something seemed to pass between the two men, then Nik nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Someone had to ask,
Mac thought. She turned to Her Glory. “Can you climb a ladder?”

“The Dhryn are attacking!”

Mac bumped her head against the ladder rung for the second time. “No. The Ro are attacking,
Se
Lasserbee. And this Dhryn is on our side. We need to climb the ladder. Now.”
And if the Frow didn’t get out of their way within the next few seconds, she was going to let Nik shoot him somewhere.

That wasn’t her first choice, but the appeal was growing. The shipwide alarm had subsided to a background drone, hopefully implying the captain and his crew were taking charge.
That didn’t mean they were safe.
“Now,” she repeated, smacking her artificial hand against the ladder.

“We saw the dead one.” This from a lackey, hanging head down near Mac. “Is that what attacks?”

Mac shuddered. “Yes. There could be more on the ship. Many more. It’s not safe. You should be in your quarters. And we,” she said firmly, “need to climb the ladder.”

“We will take you to your quarters!” This with a snatch for her arms she narrowly avoided. “To safety!”

“No. They’re chasing us. Do you understand? We can’t stay on the ship.”

“You are in danger?”

“Yes! We all are. Please. Get out of the way.”

Two scampered down, past the lower level entrance.
Se
Lasserbee climbed above her. “Then we shall protect you,” he announced, his hat bobbing with each movement. “It is our duty.”

So long as they got out of the way,
she thought with relief.

Mac waved to the rest to follow, then climbed to the next level and turned to watch. The muscles between her shoulders seemed permanently knotted.
Turtles had the right idea,
she assured herself, wishing for some body armor and the ability to pull in her head.
They were only guessing the Ro hadn’t infiltrated the entire ship already.

The only evidence in favor of that hypothesis was that they continued to breathe.
She’d take it.

First up was Her Glory, who climbed the vertical ladder much the same way as Brymn had managed to swim—by using the power of her limbs to overcome mechanical deficiencies. Once she was safely off the ladder—requiring some contortions and a leaping skid much like the landing of an albatross—the rest followed. The Sinzi climbed as dexterously as any Frow, their beringed fingers perfectly adapted to grasp and release in rapid sequence. Mudge was next, then Nik, weapon still out, brought up the rear.

Not quite. Claws appeared around the doorframe, followed by the pointy tips of hats, followed by feet, followed by . . .
Oh, no.

The Frow were coming with them.

“You should go to your quarters,” she said desperately. “Please. It’s not—we’re not safe.”

“Which is why we must attend you, Dr. Connor,”
Se
Lasserbee informed her, slowly working his body through the opening. Luckily for the Frow, there were hand grabs to either side. The corridor, however, loomed as a slick wasteland, its walls broken only by closed, smooth doors.

Nik touched her shoulder. “Mac. We have to go.” He didn’t wait for her answer, half jogging to the bulkhead door at the end of the corridor to input his code, the Dhryn moving easily by his side.
Ran like a grizzly.

Fy and Ureif stayed with Mac, as if they wouldn’t move until she did. Mudge waited, too. Muttering under her breath, with a last look back at the Frow—who had made it to the cling-to-handrail stage and were regarding the floor—she went to Nik.

He had the door unlocked, but motioned them all to wait. “I’m going to scout ahead,” he explained, slipping through the opening.

He moved like a predator,
she thought.

He paused before closing the door behind him to take one last look at her, his eyes full of everything they didn’t need to say to one another.
That distraction could get them killed,
she realized with a chill, finally comprehending Nik’s dread of loving her.

Biology always wins,
she reminded herself. Her spy might be distracted, but she could—
almost
—pity anything that threatened her.

Her Glory sat abruptly, supporting herself on upper and lowermost legs, the middle two—
that had supported her bulk in movement
—tucked up. “I am hungry,
Lamisah.
”

Mac rested her hand on the Dhryn’s upper shoulder. “I know,” she said gently. “How long—?”
Can you survive
was the part she didn’t say. They couldn’t feed her now. Later was past a gulf Mac couldn’t imagine.

The golden eyes held boundless warmth. “If you can endure my complaints,
Lamisah,
I believe I can endure my hunger quite a while.”

Mac snuck a peek at the Frow. They’d made it to cluster in the first doorway, feet splayed and holding onto one another.
Se
Lasserbee, ever alert, saluted, the movement almost knocking them down.

The door opened and Nik stepped through, keeping his hand on the doorframe. One look at his grim-set face and Mac’s heart lurched. “They’ve been,” he said without preamble. “No way to know how long we have. Let’s go.” His hand lifted to beckon them forward; Mac stared at the bloody print it left on the wall. His eyes followed hers.

“Watch your step,” he added.

Mac learned a great deal about herself over the next few minutes. She could put her foot into a pool of blood without hesitation.
There was no floor free of it.
She could step over body parts, black, red, or glistening with slime.
None were identifiable.
And she could think about survival.
The body looked after itself.

Emily’s room had been nothing like this.

The corridor beyond the door was a slaughterhouse. The violence of the walkers had left nothing remotely recognizable. Perversely, their corpses—for the crew hadn’t died alone—were intact, obstacles to pass.

She learned a great deal about Nik and Mudge as well. The former led, weapon out, muscles taut and body poised for action, using himself to test the way. Mudge had methodically checked every pile of intestine and bone until finding a weapon of his own. Now, he followed behind, a solid comfort.

The aliens were silent, except for the mutters of distress from the Dhryn, whose body was too wide to avoid brushing against the walkers. The Sinzi’s gowns soaked up blood and became streaked with slime and ash. They walked with Mac, a finger each on her shoulder as if needing to be sure they remained together.

Once they made it this far, the Frow fared better, their claws finding ready holds.
Was it easier for them?
Mac wondered numbly. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d walked on the bodies of dead and dying salmon, more intent on her footing than the savage toll.
But they’d left eggs behind. They’d found a way for their kind to survive.

Unlike the
Annapolis Joy,
gutted from the inside.

The consular area was no better. Nik paused beside the com station to let them catch up. She didn’t look into the door. “Not far to the hangar now,” he said. There were deep, harsh lines beside his mouth, but his voice was steady.
You could take strength from it.
“Ship’s systems are still functioning—I could call for backup. They won’t know anyone’s alive here.”

Mudge
harrumphed
. “If there isn’t anyone else alive, you’d reveal our location for nothing. I say keep going.”

“And if there is,” Mac said, surprising herself, “they’ll live longer with us gone.”

The low drone of ship’s alarm suddenly stopped, leaving a dizzy emptiness behind. The lights flared, then died to a flicker lower than night mode. Runnels of slime continued to fluoresce for brief seconds, marking the ceiling and walls as well as the dead.

As Mac’s eyes adjusted, she realized the soft glow from the Dhryn’s torso now pooled around them all. Just beyond, in the shadows, random sparks marked each Frow.
Useful adaptations,
she thought, unable to stop herself from trying to understand, even in a universe falling apart.

“Magnificent,” exclaimed Fy. Her fingers lifted toward the Dhryn. “Mac, have you seen anything to compare?”

“Humans cannot see as we do,” Ureif said.

Fy’s “Oh,” was accompanied with a look to Mac. “My apologies.”

“We can discuss eyes later,” Mac suggested.
That word again.

“Ready?” Nik didn’t wait for an answer, but led the way into the dark.

Mac supposed it was too much to hope that darkness would matter to whatever eyes the Ro walkers used.

The Dhryn’s glow, however faint, proved a mixed blessing. While it helped Mac plan her next step—
and made it possible to ignore the rest of the corridor
—she felt as if she traveled inside a spotlight. Nik, Mudge, and the Frow stayed well out of it, likely for that reason.

The entry to the hangar was damaged, as if forced from the outside.
Explaining why the ceiling had been intact.
Nik went ahead to scout.

Mudge came up to Mac. “How are you managing, Norcoast?”

“Better,” she said honestly. “I guess you can get used to anything.”

What little she could see of his expression looked aggrieved, as if she’d presented an application to hang laundry from his precious trees. “He shouldn’t have involved you in all this. I’ve said it before.”