Silent Songs (18 page)

"Why would the Grus need fire, Mr. Bigbee?" Mrs. Lewis had warned, and she'd been right. They couldn't endanger the very people who were trying to safeguard them.

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Old Bear had a sudden strong memory of his last dream and shuddered. He should've told Tesa, shared it with her before she left. He could've examined it closer, taken a sweat bath, prayed more.... He should've done the exact opposite of what he had. ... He stopped his mind from running in circles.

The most important thing was to get a message to the CLS, and warn the
Brolga
away, but he didn't know if that was possible without help from the space station. The
Brolga
would be here in three weeks. Old Bear shook his head. His dreams had shown him blood dripping from the Moons, covering Trinity, but now he feared that that blood might engulf all the Known Worlds.

He turned as a shadow crossed him.

"Tired, friend?" Taller asked kindly.

"You know," the human signed, "I thought when I came to the World I would end my days in peace and contentment."

Taller's crown stretched. "And is that what you
wanted?"

Old Bear smiled. "I thought so at the time."

Taller watched the hordes of his people foraging for breakfast. "I thought the same when your granddaughter came to the World. Perhaps we will get what we want, sooner or later."

Old Bear nodded, thinking,
later, I'm afraid. Much later.

"You didn't sleep well last night," Lightning signed, his small, dull crown speaking eloquently of his concern. When Tesa didn't answer, he

commented, "You were having bad dreams. I tried to ease you out of it like Weaver does, but I couldn't."

She wanted to reassure him, tell him that he'd helped, but she couldn't lie to him. She'd dreamed about her grandparents, about a river running red with blood, and awakened nervous and irritable, thinking about Old Bear, as if he'd sent her the dream. That's why she was here in her lean-to now, in the middle of the day, trying to catch a nap, but that eluded her, too. Only Lightning and Flies-Too-Fast were with her; the rest of the cohort milled restlessly around the beach. She couldn't see Thunder. She changed the subject. "Why don't you fish?"

"The River's too noisy," Lightning explained.

"Too noisy for what?" She didn't feel alert enough to be sensitive to the difficult nuances of being hearing.

"For anything," Flies-Too-Fast explained crankily. "The Spirit Singers keep swimming through the River, telling each other about the alien who
hears
their song. They sang the night away, and most of the day. No wonder you had nightmares." He fluffed up his feathers disgustedly. "They're scaring the fish."

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Reminded of the strange creatures they'd discovered only yesterday morning, Tesa opened her mind. She could still
hear
them in the back of her mind. Squinting, she saw Jib on a sled hovering over the sandbar, communing with the curious herd. She gnawed her lower lip. She wanted to remove him from the area, get him out of here. But when would
that
be? She checked her chrono. Fourteen twenty-five--noon on Trinity. Noon. And still no word from Meg and Szuyi.

She took a deep breath, aware that her two avian friends could read her every emotion. Near the parked
Demoiselle,
Bruce and K'heera fiddled with the alien satellite, still in its safety container. She rose and left the lean-to, the Grus close behind.

Bruce was using the container's internal systems to give the satellite a rudimentary cleaning. K'heera sat nearby, watching, appearing

disinterested. She could see Bruce signing to the young Simiu, trying to include her, but she remained aloof. Tesa was surprised how much of the surface Bruce had revealed. Odd-shaped hieroglyphics and impressed designs made artistic, marbled patterns in the metal. It was beautiful, she thought, but that didn't assuage the vague sense of dread she felt whenever she looked at it.
You sure picked the right part of Trinity to splash down in,
she thought at the alien sphere.

The weatherman acknowledged her presence, but there was no welcoming smile on his face.

"Have you called the
Crane
lately?" she asked, trying to make her signs casual.

He nodded.

K'heera watched their exchange. Tesa realized everyone was now watching them--the scattered cohort; Thunder, who was in a nearby tree; and even Jib, though he couldn't follow their signs at that distance. He adjusted the sled and flew in and joined them. Using the flyer as a convenient chair, he dangled his legs over the side to watch their conversation.

"Same message?" Tesa asked.

Bruce nodded again.

Her throat tightened. "Did
you
send a message?"

He faced her. "No. I told you I wouldn't, and I didn't."

Tesa eyed him anxiously. "What's wrong? Why are you . .. ?"

"I called your grandparents, thinking they might know what was going on at the station. I got the same message."

There shouldn't be any message from the camp's computer, Tesa knew.

Those computers were always open to relay communications, especially when anyone was away from camp--that was

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SOP. The "do not disturb" was as wrong as cheese-scented plastic on a rodent trap. "Did . . . did you leave a message there?"

"No, ma'am." Bruce's eyes grew soft.

She wanted to say something but found she couldn't.

"Now, there could be a perfectly logical reason for these wonky messages,"

he suggested.

"Two
identical
messages?"

"The failed satellite," he said, "like all the others, is linked directly into the AI.

Like I told you months ago, we're way behind on our maintenance program.

If the robot brain started deteriorating, it could've infected the AI, spreading it like a cancer. When Meg and Szu-yi went up there they might've found major problems waiting for them. We've got the diagnostics and the equipment to solve it, but it takes time, and in the meantime they'd be out of touch. Neither Meg nor Szu-yi are that adept at working with the AI. They could be stuck up there for a week without help. Your grandparents might've been trying to reach
us
for the last forty-two hours."

If you believe that,
Tesa wondered,
why are you so edgy?

"Let me send a message," Bruce insisted gently. "Forcing the computers to accept information might help the AI reprogram itself, at least enough to handle a simple communication."

"If
that's the problem," Tesa replied, shaking her head. "If Meg found that much trouble on the
Crane,
don't you think she'd just come down here to get you?"

"You're talkin' about
Meg,"
he reminded her wryly. "She'd have to be really stumped to come after me first. She'd keep insisting they could fix everything in 'just another hour.'"

Yes,
Tesa had to admit,
that's what Meg would do.

"If we send a repetitive signal," Jib interjected, "the computer would receive it. Meg might be able to respond."

K'heera remained silent. Tesa resented the Simiu's lack of participation, but she couldn't force her to give an opinion.

"That kind of interaction," Tesa signed to Jib, "could pinpoint our location. ..."

"Why worry about that?" Jib asked.

Tesa stood, hands poised hesitantly.

"Are you worried that someone from Sorrow Sector, someone involved with the privateers, has come back to Trinity?" Bruce asked. "How could they?

We eliminated or captured the human crew. Any collaborators left in Sorrow are busy staying one step- ahead of the investigators.. .." Bruce suddenly caught sight of K'heera's change of expression and frowned self-consciously.

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"Besides, this is a mighty long way to come for revenge."

Tesa started to say something, then paused as Jib signaled for her to look at K'heera.

The Simiu's mouth moved in the unique way that indicated she was speaking her own language. It was impossible to lip-read with its guttural throat sounds, which K'heera had to know. She was deliberately forcing Tesa to communicate through her voder, or use Jib as a translator. It was a subtle way of making the Indian feel less than capable when she already felt helpless. The Sioux woman controlled her temper with an effort.

"Repeat that in sign," Tesa demanded in the short, choppy motions Grus parents used with misbehaving children.

K'heera did not miss the significance of the reprimand, and her eyes widened. She barked a response.

"I said in
sign,"
Tesa repeated. "And
look
at me when you're signing!"

There was an uncomfortable pause, then finally K'heera signed reluctantly,

"Are you insinuating that my family is somehow responsible for the problems we are experiencing here?"

"Not at all," Tesa insisted. "You're being oversensitive."

"Then what
are
you implying?" K'heera demanded.

"No one meant to insult you or your family," Bruce assured her. "We were talking about the past. It wasn't personal."

The young female wasn't mollified. "You hide your true feelings by saying Trinity is too far to go for revenge. But honor knows no limits. And Simiu honor is
always
personal!"

"Which is why you're here today," he reminded her irritably,
"supposedly
learning how to counterbalance that overblown honor code so you can learn to
cooperate
with other beings!"

"And this is something I'm supposed to learn from
humans!"
she demanded furiously. "A people who nearly wiped out their own kind because of their insane love for
weapons!"

"A people," Bruce fired back, "who've learned to control their baser natures.

A people who've made one successful First Contact, and now possibly a second. Your beloved honor code prevented your people from doing that Sixteen years ago, and will hold you back until you learn to compromise."

"I've heard enough, human!" K'heera's mane bristled.

"Stop!" Tesa moved between them, hands up, forcing them to pause. She couldn't believe how quickly things had deteriorated between them, and worse, she felt responsible. "We're
all
overreacting! We're just.. . tense ...

because we don't know what's going on. Let's calm down."

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K'heera's crest flattened slightly as she turned to Tesa. "You accuse me of being oversensitive--a common racial slur made by humans against my people--but you never answered my question. Do you think my family is involved in our problems?"

"Now, K'heera," Bruce signed slowly, his jaw clenched, "it never occurred to
anyone
here to think your family could have anything to do with our current situation. ..."

"Do not patronize me, human!" she signed angrily. "I am not a child for you to guide. Examine your prejudices and say there is no truth in what I've said.

Tell me,
Honored
Interrelator, that you do not fear an attack from the renegade Harkk'ett clan."

Tesa lifted her hands to try to explain her concerns, but K'heera had already risen off her haunches and trotted away without a backward glance. Jib started to stand.

"Let her go, son," Bruce signed. "She won't listen, not while she's angry. I guess some of the things we said, the way we said them ... it would have to look that way to her."

Even Bruce thinks that's what I meant,
Tesa realized. Or was the sin in what she couldn't say? And why wouldn't she say it? Because she'd allowed K'heera's attitudes about honor and decorum to infect her own feelings about her instincts. She didn't want to appear foolish in front of the Simiu--of losing honor in her eyes. But, she'd done that anyway. As if a
heyoka
could've done anything else!

Old Bear's dream warning, the mental intrusions of the Spirit Singers, and the sudden appearance of the alien probe had her instincts thrumming like a plucked string. She'd felt the same way last year when she'd taken young Thunder and Lightning and fled to an ancient caldera. That was what she wanted to do now. Take her friends, her children. Run. Hide.

"You're probably right," Jib signed to Bruce. "I've never seen her this pissed off. I'll talk to her after she walks off her mad. Still, there's our main problem. ... If we're not going to try to break through the programming, what else
can
we do?"

The two men gazed at Tesa.

"We can wait," she signed, taking a deep breath and rubbing her forehead.

"If this is a computer glitch, as you suspect, waiting will do no harm. If the problem's more serious . . ."

"Such as?" Jib asked pointedly. Tesa could tell he was tired of her evasions.

She stared him in the eye. "Such as ... Columbus. Such as Captain James Cook." Tesa pointed toward the alien probe sitting benignly captive in its container. "You're assuming that thing was

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sent from its builders' homeworld. It could've been sent from an exploratory ship just as easily."

"Possible," Bruce admitted, "but a long shot."

"You're being too complacent," Tesa insisted. "Up till now, the CLS has been in the enviable position of discovering new species under peaceful conditions. Because the Mizari are such an old race, they've been able to refine First Contacts into a science. But Trinity's off the beaten path, in a part of the Orion Arm the Mizari know little about. As you yourself once said, Bruce, this place is a colonist's dream."

She turned to Jib. "Our people were nearly destroyed by invaders who changed our worlds forever. Can't you even
imagine
that the beings who launched that probe might be a threat? Or has StarBridge made you think that every First Contact is automatically a peaceful dialog between equals?"

Having verbalized her worst fears, Tesa felt oddly relieved.

Jib glanced at Bruce as the older man signed, "You've got to admit, the specter of alien invaders is pretty unlikely.. .."

"Because it's never happened before?" Tesa asked.

"Considering all the years the Mizari have been in space, that's not a bad reason," Jib agreed.