Silent Songs (5 page)

K'heera squatted onto her haunches, her face burning. "No, no, I don't dance, I wouldn't know . . ."

"Look!" one of the others exclaimed. He was smaller than the leader, but still a striking male, who wore his mane trimmed in such a way that it displayed a missing ear. "She's got more tools stuffed in that vest than the ship's engineer."

"Surely, Ahrakk'," the handsome leader rumbled, "she's just holding them for her brother. Isn't that right, young beauty?" He loomed even closer.

K'heera wanted to shrink into the luxurious carpet.

"Honorable Dancers," Jib said softly, trying to turn their attention to him.

"Perhaps if you started your performance . . ."

Suddenly Ahrakk' squinted at the fork Jib was using to punctuate his words.

"Human, you've been at StarBridge too long if you think you can eat a whole bite of Pp'hhh'tttkkk. That stuff will burn a hole straight down that upright body of yours and sear its way right through the deck plates!" The group found this funnier than anything they had said before.

As casually as she could, K'heera glanced at Jib's face. He masked his surprise and anger, but not completely. She'd never make him understand now; there was no use in even trying.

"Is everything all right?" an evenly modulated female voice asked in English.

K'heera's earcuff translator easily kept up with the language change as she peered up into the face of the S.V.
Norton's
Captain, Jane Stepp.

She was not as tall as Jib, and seemed about twice his age, though K'heera wasn't sure. Her curled black hair framed an attractive face and clear blue eyes. She was built sturdily, and seemed capable and efficient.

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"Things could not be better, Honored Captain Stepp," the dance troupe leader assured the American woman. "In all my years of touring, never have I known a finer Captain's Night! Your invitation to dance will make it perfect.

We are privileged to entertain such notable--and fortunate--passengers."

"Thank you, Honored Dancer Kh'arhh'tk," the Captain replied.

"This is pretty special, ma'am," Jib said in English. His voice was cool as he ignored the Pp'hhh'tttkkk incident. "I've never been at a Captain's Night with live entertainment."

She grinned amiably. "This is a special trip for me and my crew, so we're going whole hog. It's our last journey on the
Norton.
After this run we're taking command of a brand-new vessel, a ship that will be servicing Trinity alone. There's her image." She waved at a three-dimensional hologram rotating in the center of the room. "The
Brolga.
Her maiden voyage will carry enough staff and supplies to enlarge Trinity's space station."

"Congratulations, Captain!" Jib said.

She bowed, clearly pleased. "I've been traveling to Trinity since it was found.

Getting the
Brolga
is icing on the cake."

"May it bring you much honor," Kh'arhh'tk said graciously, then laced his fingers together and curved his arms over his head in an elegant version of the rarely used Mizari "honor bow."

K'heera was startled by their gesture. She'd never seen a Simiu use it before ... but then, what Harkk'ett would?

"For you," Kh'arhh'tk told the Captain, "we'll dance the Warrior's Welcome"--

he waved at K'heera--"with a guest star!"

"Oh?" said the Captain. "And this is ... ?"

"Our native sister," barked the leader. "In another year she'll be ready for the tremendous responsibilities she and her sisters share. What more reason to dance?" Kh'arhh'tk turned to K'heera suddenly. "Little sister, what is your name? You must be properly introduced to the Honored Captain."

They have no idea who I am!
K'heera thought, panicking.

The Captain peered at her as though trying to remember. Jib had turned away. But then, what could he possibly do?

"Immature females," Kh'arhh'tk proclaimed, "are so shy." Boldly, he encircled her arm with his. "Your name, sister?"

"K'heera..." she whispered, her throat tightening. Honor demanded she give her full identity. "Of the family Harkk'ett."

The dancers froze in recognition, sobering instantly. The handsome Kh'arhh'tk jerked his arm away.
"Harkk'ett?
That explains your other perversions. How
dare
you dishonor me? Honor obliged that you reveal yourself immediately! You are

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not worthy of a challenge." As one, the group spun and jogged away.

K'heera glanced at the Mizari's tentacles spinning and waving; she was clearly disturbed. However, she was unprepared for the disapproval etched on the face of Captain Stepp.

"Why is a
Harkk'ett
going to Trinity?" the Captain demanded.

"StarBridge business," Jib said curtly.

"But why a
Harkk'ett?"

K'heera was humiliated; the Captain spoke of her as though she weren't even there.

"She is Ambassador Dhurrrkk's choice," Jib said simply.

"I feel proprietary about Trinity," the Captain said, annoyed. "The last thing I want to do is . . ." she cast around for the right expression, "deliver a serpent into the garden."

K'heera was baffled by the reference, and knew she'd have to look it up, only to be infuriated when she learned its meaning.

"That's not fair, Captain," Jib protested. K'heera couldn't bear to listen to him defend her anymore, especially since he was doing it so halfheartedly. "You can't hold an innocent person responsible for the actions of their elders."

The Captain took a deep breath and looked away. When she met his eyes again she seemed calmer. "You have to realize ... I knew the people who died on Trinity. They were friends of mine."

K'heera couldn't tolerate this human female's official kindness. At least her own people treated her like the outcast she was right from the start.

"Honored Captain," she growled, waiting until the female lifted her wrist voder where she could hear it easily, "you will not have to suffer my presence. I believe it will serve everyone if I stay in my cabin hereafter."

"For the whole trip?" Jib seemed astonished. "It'll feel like a prison after a few days!"

K'heera wanted to stuff his mouth full of Pp'hhh'tttkkk, anything, just so he'd shut up. "It is my preference."

The Captain bowed slightly to her. "Perhaps that'll be for the best. I promise you'll lack for nothing."

The Captain had accepted her offer with humiliating readiness, but K'heera would not rescind it. Public humiliation was part of life as a Harkk'ett.

"As I said earlier," the Simiu told Jib, "I should've stayed in my quarters. I will go there now, and remain." He seemed stricken, but did not attempt to stop her. Mortified, furious, and totally miserable, K'heera forced her crest and tail to stand tall as she strode from the room.

28

"You promised Tesa!" Meg insisted. The gray-haired biologist turned to the fiftyish man sitting beside her. "So bury that resentment before we pick those kids up, Bruce."

Easing the shuttle
Patuxent
into the empty bay of the
Singing Crane,
she closed the lock. The second shuttle, the
Bamboo,
was parked beside it.

The weatherman sighed as he shut down all systems. "Just tell me how baby-sitting a Simiu kid is supposed to 'make reparations' for what happened here?" He unsnapped his harness and stood, shrugging his dark jumpsuit into place. Seeing Meg's exasperated expression, he held up a hand. "I've never broken a promise to Tesa yet. I'll be Mr. Charming!"

"To think I've lived long enough to see that!" Meg grumbled.

"They'll be docking soon. Think I'll spend the time .. ."

"Checking out the equipment," Meg finished for him. "Going to scan for that sunken meteor again?"

"May as well, since we'll be diving for it next week. Lot of big life-forms nearby. They might've moved it, who knows?"

An hour later, when the S.V.
Norton
finally mated airlocks, Bruce joined the older woman beside the sealed doors. "How's this face, old girl?" he asked in a low voice.

She glanced sideways at him. He appeared pleasantly neutral, and had even freshened his appearance. "Don't call me 'old girl'!" she growled, making him grin.

The locks finished cycling, then opened. First through was Steve Manohar, the cargo master, who handed Meg a computerized bill. "Well, we've got more than supplies for you today," the portly young man told them matter-of-factly. "But the cargo's ready. Okay if we bring it in?"

"Sure, Steve," Meg said. "Have the recruits been up long?"

"Oh, yeah. We woke 'em yesterday."

Bruce and Meg exchanged a look. "I'm ... surprised they're not here," she remarked. "Everything okay?"

The attendant dropped his eyes to his lading list as two others

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pulled a-grav sleds loaded with containers into the
Crane.
"Far as I know,"

he said noncommittally.

Bruce leaned forward conspiratorially. "What happened? The Simiu challenge everyone on two legs?"

Steve glanced up, then shrugged. "All I know is she hasn't been out of her quarters since the first night. Sign here, Meg."

The Russian woman felt a knot of worry coil in her chest as she pressed her thumb to the bill. Why hadn't Captain Stepp come down to say hello? Then she caught sight of a tall, dark head bobbing toward them down the
Norton's
corridor.

"Here they come," Steve said pleasantly.

Meg finally spotted the Simiu marching beside the young man as the two StarBridge students drew near. "Sorry we're late, mum," Jib said in heavily accented English.

"No problem," Meg reassured him. To the Simiu, she made the traditional greeting. Then, in barely acceptable Simiu, she growled, "We are honored to greet you, K'heera of the Harkk'ett. I am Margaritka Tretiak, and this is Dr.

Bruce Carpenter."

Bruce carefully imitated the greeting. Tesa had helped them work out the wording, since no honor could be given to K'heera herself because of her family's lost status.

The four-legged alien never met Meg's or Bruce's eyes, but returned their gestures. "I am privileged," she replied.

So far, so good!
thought Meg. She turned to the New Zealander, shaking his hand heartily. "Tesa's said so much about you, I really don't feel the need for introductions."

"'Ope she didn't say too much. I don't want to have to live anything down!"

Thank God we'll be signing on Trinity,
Meg thought, I
can barely understand
a word he's saying!
It occurred to her they were probably sharing that thought, since Bruce always insisted her own Slavic accent bordered on parody.

Bruce shook the young man's hand. Meg could see the Maori's open smile softening him already.

"Do either of you need to stop for anything--bathroom, snack, change of clothes?" Meg asked, knowing the Simiu's voder would translate. One sentence in Simiu was all she could handle.

Jib glanced at K'heera, who said something to him. "K'heera wants to know,"

he finally said, "when we'll meet the Grus."

Just like Tesa,
Meg thought suddenly. Would Bruce remember that? She smiled. "About two thirds of the way down."

The Simiu looked up at her, plainly startled, then her violet eyes hooded over with some dark emotion.

30

* * *

"Oh, it's perfect, Weaver!" Tesa signed to the avian.

"I'm glad you like it," the Grus replied. "These story-walls are so different from ours it's hard for me to judge."

The White Wind people wove images into their shelter walls primarily in the ultraviolet range, so that much of it was invisible to humans. Tesa's shelter was a smaller version of Taller and Weaver's, built beside theirs on the same platform. But these walls showed stories any Terran could see--artistic renditions of her own adventures.

"The colors Teacher used are very striking," Weaver agreed.

Tesa hugged her grandmother. "I loved the way you wove my quilt's pattern into the walls. Your design is great!"

"Only young bones like yours could sleep here night after night,
takoja,"

Nadine signed with a wry expression.

Weaver's head swiveled just as Tesa felt the vibration that meant the flock was calling. Her grandmother touched the nullifiers in her ears as powerful sound waves washed over them.

"It's the shuttle!" Tesa realized excitedly. "If I don't hurry, I'll miss my place in line!"

"Be careful!" her grandmother ordered, as the Interrelator grabbed her parked sled and dashed outside. Tesa slapped the controls, and the machine leaped into the air, even as she pulled herself across it on her stomach. Taller, who'd been fishing in the marsh, lifted from the water to quickly overtake her.

Where's Lightning?
she wondered, glancing around. The cinnamon-colored head pulled up on her right with Thunder flying near, pumping her huge wings to keep up. The raptor never could maintain her interest in proper formation and usually just floated somewhere around the periphery of the escort. The other Grus had long ago learned to ignore her.

Flies-Too-Fast moved ahead of Tesa, behind Taller. The big, bold male, Hurricane, mirrored him on the right. She glanced behind and saw Snowberry's gleaming crown jockeying around near the young female Winter Bloom as they got into their positions. In the rear, the tiny None-SoPretty, the gray-tailed Scorched, and the young male Frost Moon took their places. Before long, a tightly organized vee was winging ever upward.

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The wind whipped through Tesa's hair and the feathers on her woven shirt.

The rapid one-two, one-two beat of powerful Grus wings made her want to go faster, higher, until the air was too thin to breathe and the cold cut through her clothes.

Soon, the escort surrounded the
Patuxent,
spiraling around the descending ship. Bruce and Meg waved to them from the cockpit, as Tesa searched the windows, finally glimpsing a shock of black curls, then a flame-colored crest.