Silent Songs (10 page)

K'heera turned to Bruce, sitting nearest the small fire. She could smell the fish steaming in its peppery leaves. It was a terrible thing to do to those delicious leaves.

"He knows nothing of honor-bonds," she signed. "He needed my help. Our double-thumbed hands are more efficient. That's why he allowed me to do most of the work." It had been the first enjoyable thing she'd done since she'd gotten here.

"I see," signed Lightning, in a way that said the opposite.

"You don't agree?" she asked.

"I've watched the Fisher repair much more complicated machines without any help at all," Scorched signed.

"Do you remember when he dismantled most of the shuttle just to find a small problem?" Winter Bloom added. "Then he put it all back together again. He said it was fun! But he fixed it."

Lightning made no comment, just watched her reactions. K'heera stopped eating and sat on her haunches. Could Bruce have asked her to do something he could have done faster himself. .. because he
wanted
to share his knowledge with her? No male on K'heera's world would have been so self-effacing unless ... he was an uncle .... K'heera's crest rose, bristling.

"Sunrise," Lightning asked, "have we offended you?"

"No, honored friend," she reassured the avian. She was not offended, just confused. Everything she'd experienced here was the exact opposite of what she'd been raised to believe. Her own personal guilt plainly did not matter to these avians. The Honored Interrelator maintained her own beliefs, and would not apologize or lie about them, nor did she resent K'heera for the arguments she raised. And now Bruce, this man she knew was as

prejudiced as her own family, had again acted as an uncle to her.

"You have only said the truth," K'heera told Lightning. She glanced at the humans. Tesa, Bruce, Flies-Too-Fast, and Hurricane were signing

animatedly. Jib sat by himself, staring out over the dark waters with an odd expression.

He and K'heera were supposed to be working together, yet since they'd left StarBridge they'd drawn even further apart. K'heera knew she was largely responsible for that. She'd been judging Jib by a standard that even a Simiu elder couldn't uphold.

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This is our pair project,
she thought,
we're supposed to be a team. Tomorrow
I'll. . .
What? Be nicer? Treat him as an equal? Part of her was convinced she could only lose more honor befriending such a being. But another part of her now doubted that wisdom. Tomorrow, she decided, tomorrow she'd begin again.

"I don't see it," Szu-yi said, scanning the
Patuxent's
instrument panels. "It's just not out here."

"Chort!"
Meg swore. "How could a satellite just
disappear!
If it had been hit, there'd be
debris]"

Szu-yi shrugged. "These things happen. We'll pick up another one and set it out when we leave the
Crane."

"Your sense of practicality must come from your medical background. This kind of mystery makes me crazy."

Szu-yi's normally bland expression brightened. "As soon as you stop looking for it, the answer will appear."

"I suppose," Meg grumbled. "Nothing I like better than getting frantic calls at bedtime and having to make a midnight repair run! We should charge triple time!" She took the shuttle out of its low orbit, piloting it toward the space station.

Szu-yi felt odd going there. When she'd first come to Trinity, the station had been her natural environment. The planet was too dangerous, she felt, too raw. And she'd feared the Grus. But that was before. She belonged on Trinity now, and felt at peace there. Going to the
Crane
now was like visiting an old neighborhood-- one without many good memories.

The airlock opened as invitingly as a giant's mouth, swallowing the shuttle.

The lock closed behind them, then cycled the air back in. "It'll take us three hours to produce those parts and ready a new satellite," Meg said. "What do you think?"

"I think the Grus named you well, Speedy. Make it five. We'd be wiser to sleep, then do our work in the morning. Bruce and Tesa aren't expecting us before noon." Leaving the ship, they walked through the large bay to the airlock. When the door lifted with a sigh, Szu-yi sniffed. "Something must be wrong with the ventilation. What
is
that smell?"

"Smells like a swamp," Meg said. "Let's check hydroponics."

As the two women stepped into the hallway, Szu-yi turned to Meg, but the words she was forming never had a chance to emerge. Instead, she saw her friend enveloped by unrecognizable forms, even as she felt herself seized.

The swampy odor grew overpowering, choking her. The hallway

disappeared in a

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crush of bodies. Meg shouted, cursing luridly in Russian. Szuyi struggled blindly, instinctively, futilely. Within moments, both women were buried beneath a wild melange of brilliantly colored clothes and helmets.

We're being mugged,
Szu-yi thought crazily as she was half dragged, half carried through the halls.

She choked and the gloved hand wrapped around her throat eased its grip.

The beings--whoever or whatever they were-- wore sophisticated, tight-fitting garments with small, clear helmets like contamination gear.

Their gloves were translucent, and tightly fitting. The skin she could see was smooth, completely hairless, and moist. Wiry strong arms held her torso, supporting her weight.

They varied in height, from slightly more than a meter to nearly two, bipedal, with two arms. Their extreme differences in heights and body types--some long and slender, others short and round-- made her wonder if they might be different species.

Their wide, expressionless faces had large round eyes sitting atop a broad head, with flat, round tympanic membranes serving for ears. Szu-yi couldn't see any teeth, just wide mouths and rigid lips spread across their faces. The lips led directly to a soft, billowing throat, covered by translucent skin. There was no chin, no forehead, just a bony ridge. Two tiny nares pressed flat against the skin between the huge eyes and wide mouth, with no nose to shape the face.

Anurans?
Szu-yi wondered. If they were, theirs would be the first known planet where amphibians were the dominant life-form. But this was hardly the way a First Contact was supposed to go.

Szu-yi couldn't see Meg, but she could tell by the woman's broken, gasping voice that she was struggling wildly.
"Sukinsin!"
Meg yelled in Russian.

"Don't fight!"
Szu-yi called out. "Save your strength."

The strange thrumming noise she'd been hearing had to be their

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speech, a bizarre but lovely cacophony of tones made deep in their throats, which never emerged from their mouths at all.
There must be some way to
speak to them, to make a peaceful contact.
But beings interested in peaceful contact didn't sneak aboard your space station and pounce on you like street thugs.

They wrestled Szu-yi around a corner and forced her onto one of her own surgical tables. Quickly and efficiently, they disrobed her, examining each item of clothing with clinical interest, totally apathetic to her humiliation. As warm, moist air hit her unprotected skin, she became absurdly grateful that these aliens needed more warmth and humidity than humans.

Once she was nude, the aliens stretched her limbs onto the table's extensions, her arms out at right angles from her torso, her legs spread shoulder width. Using surgical restraints, they strapped her arms, legs, abdomen, and forehead down tight.

Her calm demeanor began dissolving into terror.

Suddenly a piercing alien scream cut through the air. A loud scuffle ensued and everyone surrounding Szu-yi disappeared. Straining to turn her head, she watched a tall, brown alien double over, shrieking. Its helmet had been torn off, and it was clutching one eye. The entire complement of beings converged on Meg's table. Through the frantic melee she caught a glimpse of weathered, tanned skin as the older woman fought, pulling at containment suits, punching flexible helmets.

"Oh, Meg, don't!" Szu-yi yelled as the biologist fought like a panther. The fear of witnessing Meg's death and then being left totally alone in this nightmare completely panicked her. "MEG!" she screamed.

Finally, everything stilled. When the beings drifted away, Szuyi could see that Meg had been restrained. She seemed pale, but her thin chest lifted regularly, and her blue eyes glowered.

"Are you al right?" Szu-yi cal ed, broken-voiced.
"Meg?"

"I'm fine," the biologist answered weakly. "Just tired."

Szu-yi wanted to weep in relief but controlled herself. If she slipped, she'd slide into hysteria. She distracted herself by looking around her once-familiar workplace.

Everything was up and running, every screen filled with information. So many of their instruments had been brought here, the infirmary looked like an insane computer fun house.

Then she spotted the missing satellite, perched in a sink, its compartments violated, its boards removed. She tried not to view it as a grisly prediction of her own fate.

Around her, the aliens calmly went about their business. Some--

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technicians?--acted disturbingly familiar with the station's equipment. Szu-yi tried not to think of the wealth of data here-- information on the Known Worlds, the Cooperative League of Systems ... the history and location of Earth.. ..

The alien Meg had struck was being tended while others hovered nearby with equipment. One held a Terran scanner, and seemed to be

synchronizing it with the alien equipment. Finally, they all conversed excitedly, even the one who'd been struck. His eye was closed, but only by a lower lid since they had no upper one. He gestured, pointing to their scanners.

The brown alien with the injured eye spoke to a tall green and gold standing in the background. That one sang back in a rich bass voice, its clear notes ringing through the room, claiming everyone's attention.
The leader?
Szu-yi wondered.

All the aliens removed their contamination suits, excitedly chattering among themselves, revealing startling colors and close- fitting clothing that matched their myriad patterns.

Wonderful,
Szu-yi thought gloomily.
We're no danger to them.
No doubt they had already tested the
Crane's,
air and water, and perhaps even the blood and tissue samples kept on board. But they must've still had doubts. Meg's lucky punch had forced them to confront the issue.

Szu-yi glanced at the assorted beings as they returned to their duties.
Males
and females,
she decided, recognizing what had to be secondary sexual characteristics.

Another tech guided an a-grav cabinet between Meg and Szuyi's couches.

On it lay Terran medical equipment, and a variety of the drugs and chemicals Szu-yi frequently used. She recognized the distinctively packaged psychotherapeutics. Beside them sat alien vials, with their own designs and inscriptions. Szuyi moistened her dry mouth.

Suddenly the green and gold leader loomed over her, blocking her view, pulling her attention to his face.
His?
thought Szuyi, but instinctively knew she was correct.

He leaned closer, and Szu-yi pressed against the table, wanting to sink into it, away from those terrible, marbled eyes. Clenching her teeth, she stifled a moan. His shape had nothing to do with her feelings. It was the way she was forced to view him--as a frightened lab animal must have faced human scientists hundreds of years ago. Of all the myriad beings she'd ever encountered, this was the only true
alien
she'd ever met.

He held up a cobbled-together computer device and touched a small membrane on it. It emitted sound, and Szu-yi recognized

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the recording that the
Crane
broadcast out into space, giving its greeting first in Mizari, then Simiu, on and on through the languages of all the Known Worlds, then finally in English. The leader touched Szu-yi's arm and pointed to his device.

She flinched from the clammy touch, then realized he was trying to communicate with her.
He heard me speaking English,
she thought.
Does
he want me to acknowledge I can speak that language?
Her mouth was so dry, she had to lick her lips to speak. "Yes, that's English. I speak English."

The alien moved over to Meg. The feisty biologist kept a wary eye on him, but remained silent. When he pointed to the device and tapped her, she spat back a torrent of angry Russian.

He returned to Szu-yi. Touching another pad, he sang. The machine bleated in stiff and halting English, "I am Second-in- Conquest Dacris, Commander of this station. Tell us your name."

Szu-yi's eyes widened. That was a functioning translator!

"Don't tell them anything!" Meg shouted defiantly.

"Who are you?" Szu-yi asked. "Why are you treating us like this? We are intelligent, peaceful beings, emissaries of our people. Free us, so we may talk like equal beings."

Everyone in the room was paying rapt attention, waiting for the machine to sing its equally halting song. A soft trilling circled the room, going from creature to creature.

The leader replied as the machine translated his words. "We are the Chosen and we have no interest in war. We
want
you to speak for your people. But we are
not
equals. We are the Chosen. You are not. We will learn about you.

You will help."

"Only if you release us," Szu-yi answered.

Suddenly one of the alien technicians sang out. Dacris snapped off the translator and went over to that one's console, but Szuyi couldn't see past them. The two conferred, then moved away from the computer. On the screen was her own face and data. Beside it a translator was turning the information into music. Her curriculum vitae was oddly melodious in their language.

"You are a physician?" the leader asked.

She hesitated, finally answering, "Yes."

He barked short flat notes and technicians quickly removed Szu-yi's restraints. With a gesture that was almost gallant, one of the techs extended his hand to help her off the table. She took it gingerly, easing herself onto her feet.