Silent Songs (28 page)

The female rolled in the water, looking at her sister's son. Taniwha was sure Jib's feelings touched her deeply, but when he tried to persuade her to let him contact the human openly, she wouldn't respond. Disappointed, the calf had no choice but to swim away with her to feed.

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"But it's been raining three days!" Lene complained as the steady downpour washed over her face and shoulders even as it dimpled the rising water. Her mother, Anchie, patted her consolingly as they strolled along the prefab walkways that crisscrossed the river, linking the colony's many buildings.

"Why did the rains have to come? We've only been on this miserable planet twenty-one of its days." Her song grew mocking. "But the First says there's no time to breed. We can breed the
next
time. The
next
time! I'm ready
now]"

She'd never sung so honestly. She ached to shed her clothes and sing her passion while the sweet water flowed over her body. They'd been ordered to take hormone suppressants, but Lene had refused, hoping the rains would push Arvis into a breeding cycle.

But they'd heard nothing from his family. Soon, Lene's hindbrain would override her sense and she'd fall into the arms of any available male. Her mother didn't dare leave her alone.

"It's futile," Lene wailed. "He'l never breed!"

Anchie stared over Lene's shoulder, her eyes widening, then instantly the matron fell into a squat. Lene spun in surprise as the First appeared behind her, his colors blazing.

"No, dear Lene," he sang harshly, "your efforts were hardly
futile."
Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist roughly. "To give
my
son hormones. ..

your plotting goes too far!" He yanked her rudely toward his home but she shrank back.

"Glorious First," Anchie cried, "please! She's a child!"

"No longer that," he replied, towing her forward.

The older female paddled after them, singing timorously, "I have a right to be there! As her mother I have a right!"

The First froze her with a stare. "Your conspiracy lost you your rights. Say good-bye to your daughter."

"What will happen to her in the pool?" the frantic mother shrilled. "He could drown her, or claw her to death! And if he's

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infertile ... she
will
be
ruined!
Glorious First!"

"Mother,
stop it!"
Lene snapped, startling both adults. "Dunn
will be there.

I'll
be fine." She fixed the First with a deliberate
look.
"And if Arvis is infertile... he will never be a citizen. That's what the Council decreed. So, the Industrious son of the First
will
be fertile. I can guarantee that, Mother."

"Lene!" the elder female hissed, shocked into paleness.

Atle glared. "You dare imply I would . . . ?"

"I know that you are too honest, Glorious First, to substitute another male to guarantee your son's status ... even though there
is
another fertile male in your household--you. But the drugs my mother supplied me have insured Arvis' potency. I haven't plotted only for my own welfare!"

"Yes," Atle replied, somewhat subdued. "Of course. Go home, Anchie. Lene will be safe in our pool."

"As will the First's future
grandchild,"
Lene reminded him.

Her mother winced as Atle's color flared anew. He marched them along the walkway leading to his home. "Be smug," he warned. "Be clever. Soon we'll see where that has gotten you." He drew up to his front door and stared down at her. "How much did you give him? The rains here are potent. . . .

Arvis is . . ."

"He's
ready!"
she prompted hopefully.

Atle laughed. "Ready? My son is ... as he would have been, had he been born Chosen ... he's ... magnificent."

Lene's colors brightened.

"But without the ability to control his strength. He does not have the conscience a breeding male needs. . . ."

"You're wrong," she argued. "Arvis has
all
the
conscience
any male needs."

She did not need him filling her with fear before the most important moment in her life. Did he expect her to dissolve into one of those terrified, scrambling females that had to be held in place? She passed him, opening his door.

"He's in my pool," Atle told her, indicating the way. She walked through the compact rooms, passing Arvis' sister, who was dutifully filling lotion jars, oblivious to the drama taking place in her own home. Finally she entered the First's private chamber. She was surprised that it was as clean and spare as the group pools she shared, only smaller, and more intimate. She'd expected it to be opulent, but the brightly colored interior wasn't very different from what she was used to. The transparent walls and ceiling allowed natural light to flood the room. Sheets of rain drummed musically against the house, cascading over the room as if they were under a waterfall.

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Next, she eyed the small, oblong pool itself. She stared, mesmerized at its beautiful, placid water, feeling its ancient call. Shuddering in desire, she imagined its liquid warmth surrounding her.

Atle hissed against her tympani, "See your
mate."

The Industrious servant stood hunched near a rear wall, his mother nearly propping him up. Draped in an ill-fitting robe, he seemed miserably out of place. Shaking, he rocked back and forth, his voice a low, tuneless whine.

Lene's heart sank.

"Are you ready?" the First asked roughly.

She'd imagined this moment a thousand times--the perfect political marriage.

There would be a magnificent pool, richly garbed servants, all their parents proudly attending. And she'd envisioned
him
swathed in immaculate robes that would be dulled by his luminescent color. He would sing his need for her, his magnificent body filled with passion, yet still under his control. His embrace would be gentle, but powerful, and be impossible to resist. His expert technique would release her own passion as his legs stroked hers, freeing the egg within her.

Reality slapped her hard as Arvis spied her from across the room and lurched clumsily in her direction. His mother nearly lost her grip as he reached wildly, crying, "Lene! Lene!"

"No . . ." she gasped, stepping back, but the First held her still. Her fantasy burst like an oily bubble on a polluted pool.

"Into the water," Atle growled.

"I can't," she whispered. She ached to breed, but the shambling, stunted male before her filled her with fear and revulsion. "I can't... I won't!"

"You
will,"
Atle ordered, and shoved her toward the pool.

"Atle!" his wife shrilled from across the room. "She
must
be calm or we'll never be able to help them through this!"

Dunn's rational voice tempered the First. It helped Lene, too. This had been
her
idea. She pulled away from the First. "I'm all right!" She dropped her garment and Arvis glowed as he gazed at her. "He's still
your
son, my First.

You've taught him to attend your every physical need. He hasn't forgotten all that now." Without a glance back, she entered the calm water.

As the First helped his wife get Arvis out of his robe, Lene realized what she'd said was true. In breeding condition, Arvis was the image of his father.

His body was magnificent, but the confusion and pain on his face ended the similarity. For the first time Lene realized the tragedy of the First's loss.

Arvis and his parents entered the water. The Industrious youth

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lunged at her, his tail twitching so violently she feared he might release his seed too soon. "Lene! Lene!" he panted.

The membranes on her back were swollen, itching, ready to enfold a fertile egg. Her mother's warning echoed in her mind, but she shut the frightening images away.

Arvis surged forward and the First restrained him, but soon, Lene knew, she would have to control him. "Arvis, listen to me!"

The youth paused, staring as if he'd never get enough of her beauty. He'd be totally devoted, she realized, forever faithful. He would never shame her with trips to the hatchery, never breed young virgins when she grew old. "Arvis, do you love me?"

He blinked slowly. "Oh, yes. Yes, I really do!"

"If you love me, then won't you help me ... like you help your father?" Both Atle and Dunn stared at her, confused.

"Yes, I'll help you," Arvis declared.

With a twinge of fear, she turned her back to him. "Then .. . give me a massage, dear Arvis. I'm ... so tired ... please?"

He groaned. "A ... massage?"

"Yes ... like you give your father?"

She could see him thinking furiously, but his tail slowed and he relaxed. "All right... a massage . . . ?"

"Yes, please. Your father says . .. you're so gentle. ..."

She saw awareness growing in Atle's eyes. He nodded at Dunn and they released their hold. Instead of lunging wildly and grappling her frantically, the Industrious male, trained from infancy to serve others, gently massaged Lene's back. He sang softly as his desire raged within him, and Lene felt her body responding to his light but confident touch. Carefully, she reached behind and took his hands, pulling them around her.

He gasped and embraced her in the true amplexus, his grip powerful but controlled, his legs stroking hers, slowly, sensuously. "Oh, Lene, I'll love you forever," he sang shakily.

Lene settled back into her lover's embrace, her joy and happiness melting her smugness away.

"You mean ... it's finally
ready?"
Jib asked incredulously.

Bruce made one final connection from the transmitter he'd removed from the
Demoiselle
to the alien satellite and stepped away from the hybrid device. "If K'heera had been here, we'd have been done days ago."

The tired weatherman had been trying to mate those two

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disparate parts for the two weeks they'd "been on the lam" as Bruce kept saying. His work had slowed to a crawl these last three days, once the rains started. The torrential downpours saturated everything, making food gathering difficult, and working on electronic equipment close to impossible.

Even though he'd helped, Jib didn't think he'd ever understand how Bruce had managed to isolate and extract the alien satellite's power source even as they kept breaking up and resettling camp. The tricky experiment had cost the old Yank two powerful shocks, and he still had some minor memory loss from the last one. Figuring out how to adapt the alien power cell for their equipment took a level of Rube Goldberg jury-rigging that was absolutely artistic. As Bruce kept telling them, this was definitely your one-chance opportunity.

In spite of their constant relocations, Flies-Too-Fast had caught up with them ten days ago. Since then, he and Taller and his flock, along with their cousins the Gray Winds, had scattered over the Land of Confusion, watching out for the invaders and acting as an early warning system for the three humans. The two men were wearing sound nullifiers all the time again.

Jib glanced out the door flap of their camouflaged shelter to Tesa and Taller as they stood in the rain. She'd been badly shaken by the story of her grandparents' and Weaver's capture. It'd changed her, he thought.
Stil , she's
taking her bad news a mite bit better than you, eh?
he chided himself.

He watched the falling rain, trying not to think of water, trying not to think of the River,
his
River, his people, the Singers, trapped there, waiting for death.

But he was unable to stop the memories, or the repetitive nightmares of that horrible slaughter, and nothing could silence the songs of mourning drifting through his mind. Even as he longed for respite from the sorrowful music, he ached for more contact, his mind calling out, night and day. But there was no real contact, just those sad songs, like the distant weeping of lost souls.

Tesa entered the shelter abruptly, water streaming from her saturated feather shirt. The waterproofing on it had failed days ago, but it didn't seem to bother her. These days, little did. She pushed back her hood as Bruce signed,

"Looks like we're in business." For once, she seemed surprised.

"Great!" she replied. "I'll tell Taller and the others. You can turn it on, then we'll get the hell out of here."

Bruce held up a hand to stop her. "Well... it's not that simple, darlin'. .. .

There's still a few bugs in the system."

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"We're running out of time!" she complained, more to herself than to them.

"We've got to get this warning
out!"

"We can do that... ." Bruce agreed slowly.

"But...
?" Tesa asked pointedly.

"The system's too cobbled-together. There's no way to stabilize the signal.

If. .. I don't stay with it to keep it focused, it'll deteriorate in minutes and no one'll hear it."

None of them said anything for a moment, then Tesa exploded. "No, damn it, no! That's out of the question. Just. .. no!"

"There's no other way," Bruce explained.

"They'll follow the source of the signal," she fumed, her hands flying. "They'll
find
you! We'll turn this stupid piece of shit on and go! If it works, fine, and if it doesn't. .."

"The Anurans take the
Brolga,"
Bruce signed neutrally, "and the CLS never gets the signal."

Tesa seemed ready to scream.

"Why don't I stay?" Jib offered suddenly. They both seemed startled at his suggestion. "You two can survive out here much better than I can. If they take me, I can try to negotiate. .. ."

"No one's
staying!" Tesa signed angrily. "And you can just get over your self-sacrificing guilt trip, it's not helping us."

Jib glanced away.

"How are we going to do it, Tesa?" Bruce signed, bringing them back to the subject. "How are we going to send the message and be sure someone gets it?"

"Can't you leave a large cohort around the shelter?" Jib suggested. "They'll call if the invaders come near. Even with nullifiers, Bruce'll feel it. It'll give him time to escape. . .."