Silent Songs (27 page)

Atle had never heard a better description of that complex emotion.

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Arvis stared at his father intently. "I want Lene to love
me.
I want to do ...

something
special
... to please her."

The First heard himself saying something similar, if more articulate, to his own father. To win a mate, really
win
her, you had to outshine your rivals.

When Atle had fallen in love, he'd been a renowned wrestler. But Arvis had other talents. He was attentive and careful. And he made friends easily.

"If you have success with the Simiu," Atle suggested, "you will have done something none of the professional trainers were able to do. These aliens, the humans and the Simiu, are the first races we've conquered in many hundreds of years. Succeed with the Simiu, and Lene will be impressed."

Arvis took a deep breath. "I'll do a good job, sir."

Just then Atle's wife came into the room. "Your father has to get dressed,"

she told Arvis gently, then turned to the First. "Your Third is here with Rand, the pharmacist, to speak to you."

Atle slipped his garment on as Arvis left. "Send them in."

The Third, Amaset, a One-Touch, entered with the tall pharmacist behind him. The two squatted, then stood quickly.

"Glorious First," the Third sang, "we've translated much of the history of the humans from the space station's computer." He approached the small desk computer and dropped a sphere in its slot. "There are some things you should know."

"Go ahead," Atle sang.

The Third touched a membrane and the tiny tank lit up with interesting images of a planet with a sole moon. This was the original home of the humans; they called it... soil? No, Earth.

The images changed, showing Earth's natural habitats. "In the past," the Third sang, "this beautiful world, covered in marshes, wetlands, and seas, was devastated by its inhabitants. Its marshes were drained, wetlands filled, forests stripped, and countless species of animals, insects, and plants were consumed and exterminated. It's only been in the last few hundred years that they've controlled this wasteful destruction, and for much of the planet, change came too late."

The Third coded some new information into the machine. "That's strange enough, but their method of war is stranger yet. Most of their resources and sciences have, for hundreds of years, been devoted to developing advanced weaponry."

"We put a lot of energy into refining weapons," Atle sang.

"Yes," the Third agreed, "however, we waged war to overtake people. Our goals were, and are, to conquer others for the benefit of ourselves and our children, not to destroy nations wholesale.

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These humans
slaughter
each other, males, females, even
children,
sometimes simply because they exist."

The screen showed the truth of the Third's words. Huge projectile weapons threw powerful missiles at distant targets. War fields were strewn with corpses, and containers rolling on parallel tracks were stacked with bodies.

"This group enslaved another," the Third continued, "but instead of training them for productive work which would enhance their economy, they wastefully starved and exterminated them because of cultural differences and the fear of hybridizing.

"But worse than all of that, Glorious First, is that during their wars, the land was
devastated.
They
defoliated
whole forests, poisoned rivers, and rendered the environment toxic. They even used weapons of
nuclear
power."

"That's ridiculous," Atle sang. "A weapon like that could destroy the entire ecology of a planet."

"These people threatened each other with just that scenario. At this time even
they
consider it miraculous that they didn't destroy their world then."

"How did they ever reach the stars?" Atle wondered.

"They did it to find new worlds to support their population, much as we've done. They show more responsibility now, but that's not important. Their stardrive .. ."

Atle watched the Third's color dull.

"If it's engaged too close to a sun, that sun will be
destroyed.
The humans are well aware of its potential. In their first meeting with the Simiu, there was some concern that some humans might do that to escape confinement."

What kind of people would destroy a solar system simply to be free? "But the crew of that ship would be destroyed as well!"

"Some of the humans' cultures consider suicide a glorious way to end their life," the Third explained.

"They're insane," Atle breathed. "They'll have to be carefully controlled."

"Anticipating your concern, I consulted with Rand."

The pharmacist stepped up. "Glorious First, you should know of... the limitations biochemical controls have on the humans."

"What limitations?" Atle asked.

"The humans have evolved from mammalian ancestors, and are much more primitive, biologically, than we are, who evolved from air-breathing water-dwellers.. .."

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"What of it?" Atle snapped.

"Their body chemistry keeps finding new ways to blunt the effect of our psychotropic drugs. We keep having to change the dosages. Sometimes, they have adverse reactions. We may have trouble controlling them with chemical restraints."

"Then we'll use the methods our ancestors used," Atle sang.

Rand and the Third exchanged concerned glances.

"Are you going to tell me that the techniques our ancestors used to successfully conquer an entire
planet
won't be good enough for these
humans!"

"We would not be serving our First if we didn't point out the limitations," the Third reminded Atle. "The old methods require more controllers per capita and raise the costs. Also, those methods can cause certain personality types to rebel."

"So, it will not be as easy as we had hoped," the First agreed, "but things will be different when their children are born in our pools, and grow up under our rods. Thank you for this information. I'll study your presentation further."

The two squatted, then departed, leaving Atle watching grainy images of a mushroom cloud explosion. This was supposed to be the deciding factor in a huge and costly war that had ended countless lives and devastated entire portions of the planet. Atle watched it with a terrible fascination. These were the people his fortunes had sent him to conquer.

"I wish I had watched her do it," Bruce signed.

Tesa shook her head, exasperated, as they bent over the enigmatic space probe, an array of hand tools scattered around them. "Just all of a sudden, it came
on."

"She enhanced the holding tank's diagnostic computer," Bruce explained, peering at that dismembered machine. "See, these are her cells.. . . Then she did something else. . . . Must've been magic. .. ." He went back to examining the satellite.

They hoped that if they could tap the probe's power source they could use it to boost the power of their ground-to-station equipment and send a warning to the
Brolga,
and possibly even the CLS. Bruce felt that if they could tap the power source, their communications would be strong, but primitive. He wasn't sure how they could keep the beam directed at the proper frequency either, but that worry was for the future.

Nearby, Jib sat, arms folded, watching the exchange.

Tesa gnawed her lip. "I know you want to use the diagnostics. ..."

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"You're damned right, I do," Bruce admitted. "K'heera found a way to tap into this thing's power source, I've got to retrace her path, and figure out what she did.. .."

"But if you use the computer," Tesa reminded him, "that thing's owners could detect it and come down on us."

"Maybe," Bruce agreed, "but if I never use the computer, then I'll never figure out how to tap this thing's power source to send a call to the
Brolga
or the CLS. The Anurans will take the
Brolga,
and no one will miss her for weeks."

Tesa's head wanted to explode. They'd been over this again and again. The tension among them was palpable. They'd moved three times in the last four days, but none of them could shake the feeling that they were moments away from capture.

"Good Eyes," Lightning signed, "the Gray Winds have told me that the Anurans are leaving their colony in small groups and moving along the River."

"Probably exploring," Bruce decided. "Maybe sending out biologists, or other specialists, to see what's available."

"The Gray Winds say that the small groups move on flyers," Lightning told her, "and they carry lots of
things
with them. Mechanical things."

Tesa waited for him to make his point. Information from the Gray Winds regarding the activities of the Anurans was critical to their safety.

"We were all wondering," Thunder started signing, indicating herself and the cohort, "if these groups could somehow 'hear' your machinery, how they could tell it apart from their own."

"I'm afraid it's very easy," Tesa explained. "Not only do our peoples use different languages, the machines themselves have their own way of talking, and those ways are so different.. . ."

"Wait a minute, Tesa," Jib suddenly signed. He'd been depressed since the slaughter of the Singers, and had contributed so little to their conversations that Tesa and Bruce had grown accustomed to his silence. Now both of them watched him as he became suddenly animated. "There's something else to consider. You know at StarBridge, most of the telepaths are diurnal--

they're awake and busy during the day. There's enough of them on the

'Bridge now that communications during daytime, especially with some of the poorer trained students, can be difficult. Because . .. there's so much of it going on ... understand?"

Bruce's face lit up. "I see what you're saying. The Anurans are diurnal.

They've got exploratory groups scouting around, sending

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reports. Communications are whizzing back and forth. ... If we use our equipment during midday, the chances are there'll be so much

communications chatter . . . our tiny emanations could just be white noise."

"
'Chances
are ... ' " she repeated.

"That's right," Bruce admitted. "It's a chance. But I can't find my way into this thing on luck. I've got to have help. Electronic help."

"He's right," Jib prodded. "We'll have to take the chance."

The young woman squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see any more signs. Then she felt a wing on her arm. She opened her eyes to face Thunder.

"Let them use their machines, Good Eyes," Thunder suggested. "I'll ride the high thermals while they do and watch for the enemy. My brother and his cohort can hear my call and warn you if the enemy approaches."

"We'll set a time limit," Bruce added. "Fifteen-minute intervals, four times a day . .. well, maybe six. . .. Something like that. When we're done for the day, we'll move camp again."

They all watched her, waiting for her decision. She couldn't ask Bruce to perform miracles; she had to accept
some
risk. .. . "All right. But only after the Suns are all up."

"Great! I'll start right now."

"Come on," Tesa gestured to Jib as Thunder climbed into the sky. "Let's gather some lunch while he's working. We won't have time to do that if we have to leave in a hurry, and I want to keep watch for Flies-Too-Fast."

Jib nodded, but his despondency had returned.

As they collected nearby fruit, Tesa wished she could find the right thing to say to him about his sorrow. "Jib... I understand what you're going through. I felt that kind of helpless rage when I watched Thunder's father get killed, and when I learned about Black Feather's flock being slaughtered. It's painful, but you have to get over this. What happened to the Singers wasn't your fault. There was no way you could know."

"Tell
them
that," he signed simply, and turned away.

Tesa's hands hung suspended in air. She could think of nothing that would buffer the loss of the Singers' mental contact, or remove the brutal images of his dream. She wished she knew more about TSS, more about the

withdrawal symptoms. She tried to think of something to distract him. "Look, I know we can't use the electronic equipment for this, but I always carry paper.

It's a holdover from when I worked on Earth with hearing

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people and never knew
when I'd hit a communications snag. You
can
have it.
You can write Anzi
real
letters on it!"

He paused, thinking about that, then his face brightened. "Thanks, mate, that's right nice of you. I'll take you up on that. A bit of writing therapy, eh?

Let's hope it works!"

Tesa nodded curtly and watched the sky, as Thunder's dark silhouette circled above them. She only wished she could indulge in her own therapy, to soar through the sky with Lightning, Thunder, and her cohort and leave her fear and anger behind. The nervous youngsters helped her gather fruit as each took their turn watching and listening for danger. How odd for them, she thought, to spend so much energy waiting for a predator when the land around them was devoid of animal life.

Taniwha swam through the shallows of the tributary, carefully touching the minds of the three humans without letting them
hear
him. He was convinced Jib could explain the evil aliens to him. He thought, too, that if Jib was hiding an equally evil nature, he should confront him--pull the evil from the corners of his mind into the light. But whenever he probed Jib's memories, like now, all he could find was agonizing guilt over the pain Taniwha's people had suffered.

He was confused. Jib had sent him to that place of blood and death, and the human felt those deaths were his doing ... yet he enjoyed no satisfaction or gladness, only profound grief. Taniwha worried over this, wanting to understand.

Suddenly the shadow of his aunt passed over him, surprising the calf.

Taniwha knew she'd be angry. As his nearest living relative, she was responsible for him now, nursing him and her own calf equally. She'd forbidden him to contact the humans, but the youngster knew the answers they needed lay with these beings. In his defense, Taniwha showed his aunt Jib's heartfelt mourning.