Regeneration (Czerneda) (65 page)

And when she came upright again—taller now, and solid—and settled to regard her Human companion, skin and eyes aglow even against the brighter light, she was nothing less than glorious.

Mac dropped her would-be weapon.

“What are you?”

The delicate mouth smiled, as if they now shared a secret. “Hungry.”

“Dr. Connor. This is the second door you’ve locked on me. This is my ship, you realize.”

Mac winced. Captain Gillis sounded infinitely more reasonable and calm than Cayhill, who’d been first to arrive and shouted himself hoarse at her while waiting for the rest. “Sorry about that,” she said “Hang on.” She unlocked and opened it, but kept herself firmly in the way. “I wanted you to be here,” she explained, trying not to look at Cayhill.
He deserved better.
“All of you,” this with a nod to Ureif and Mudge.

Mudge looked as grim as she’d ever seen him. She’d expected that.

She’d expected the armed guards, too.

“If you’d come in, calmly.” Now she did look at Cayhill, doing her best to plead with him without saying a word.

His face was flushed with rage, his eyes fierce. But he gave a curt nod.

Mac backed slowly, controlling the entry. Not that any of them wanted to run in—they’d seen on the vid, she was sure, what waited. A new kind of Dhryn.

Or maybe something else.
Her heart hammered as she considered the possibilities.

She’d done her best to provide a suitable setting for the introductions.
Not that she’d had much to work with,
Mac reminded herself. She’d shoved the wheeled platform to one side, the bed with it. The worktable joined them, its mass of vials and equipment hidden under a sheet. That left the table and chairs, plus the bins. The bins of used plants were now out of the way. Along with the all-but-one empty bags.

She’d put the table in the middle, fished out a plant sufficiently intact—
in her opinion
—to serve as a centerpiece, and arranged the chairs on one side. There weren’t enough, but the Dhryn didn’t need a chair. Neither did she.

A point not lost on Cayhill, whose lips pressed tightly together. Then he saw his patient and wonder flooded his face. “I don’t believe it.”

The Dhryn raised her head in a bow. “I am told you are responsible for my current state.” She indicated herself with her flexible limb, the movement as graceful as any Sinzi. “I would give you my name, Human-
erumisah,
but I do not exist.”

“Erumisah”
was a rank earned through
grathnu. Mac supposed providing food qualified. “This is Gordon Matthew Cayhill,” she introduced, having taken a judicious look at the ship’s crew list.

“Ah.” The Dhryn paused, as if considering how to clap without paired hands. Then she dropped what Mac thought of as her mid-legs to the floor, their flatter feet making a reasonable smack. “Most distinguished. I take the name Gordon Matthew Cayhill into my keeping.”

“The captain of the
Annapolis Joy,
Michael—Rupert James Gillis.” Mac hadn’t found his middle names, so she made up a few. Gillis didn’t even blink.

Another vigorous smack. “Outstanding. I am honored to take the name Michael Rupert James Gillis into my keeping.”

“Charles Jean Mudge III.
Erumisah.
”

The Dhryn passed her golden gaze over Mac for an instant at this claim, but dutifully smacked the floor to acknowledge Mudge.

Mac then gestured to the Sinzi, feeling ridiculously formal.
Should have ordered pizza and beer,
she thought. But this was what she had. “Sinzi-ra Ureif.” She watched the Dhryn closely. If there was an alien face she read as well as her own, it was Dhryn. Now, she thought she saw a flicker of recognition.

“Sinzi-ra Ureif.”

Ureif tilted his head to bring his lower eyes more in line with the Dhryn, but didn’t speak.
How much did he know?
Mac wondered.
About this Dhryn, a former ship captain from Cryssin Colony. And about the Wasting.

“If you’d have a seat?”

The Dhryn moved to one end of the table, going down on her four larger legs. Seated, she was taller than any Human in the room. Intimidating by size, awe-inspiring by her very existence, but there was something gentle, something warm about her—
don’t Humanize,
Mac warned herself. It was hard. The Dhryn even smelled good.

Mudge waited for the captain and Ureif to choose seats, but not for Cayhill. Mac tried to catch his eyes, but he seemed to deliberately avoid hers. Cayhill took the last seat without hesitation.

Mac felt better pacing anyway. “I assume you’ve all seen what happened?” she asked, nodded at the vid.

Now Mudge looked at her. “You took an unconscionable risk, Norcoast.”

Before she could reply, the Dhryn leaned forward. “I would never harm my
lamisah,
Charles Jean Mudge III.”

“You ate your crew.”

Mac gritted her teeth, but the Dhryn nodded gravely. “They sustained me.” There was no remorse or regret in the voice.
That which is Dhryn must survive.

“What about us?”

“Mr. Mudge, please.” Mudge subsided, with a scowl at Mac. The captain put his forearms on the table and leaned forward on them. “Dr. Connor. This is your party.”

Really could use the beer.
Mac nodded. “Thank you. I asked you here to meet the Progenitor.”

“Is that what I am?” asked the Dhryn, sounding thoughtful.

“I believe so.”

“But I do not exist.”

“That was before—”

“Dr. Connor.” Mac turned from the golden eyes to meet Ureif’s topaz ones. “Use great care.”

Regardless, it was excellent advice. The being was like a new student, intensely curious, soaking up information without discrimination. Mac had done her utmost to avoid saying anything beyond simple commands, “move here,” and reassurances, “there’s more food coming.”
She could do more harm than good.
“Yes, Sinzi-ra. I concur. That’s why I need all of you—” she paused, like the rest watching as the Dhryn, unself-conscious, reached across the table to the centerpiece, fastened her fingers on the closest leaf, and pulled the ragged mass to herself.

But once she had the plant, the Dhryn seemed puzzled. She stared at it, her fingers toying with the leaves. A piece came free. She put it into her mouth, her lips working. After a moment, her mouth opened. The piece was clearly intact. She pulled it out and held it toward Mudge, a
thrum
of distress rolling through the floor underfoot. “
Erumisah,
this will sustain me. Why can I not eat it? I must have it. I hunger.”

Mudge
harrumphed,
but there was no denying the confused hurt in the Dhryn’s voice. He looked at Mac, who tipped her head toward Cayhill. “Dr. Cayhill,” Mudge coughed. “If you’d be so good as to examine your—patient?”

Cayhill went pale.
Probably dawned on him unconscious dying aliens were the easy part,
Mac decided. She walked over to the Dhryn and rested her hand on the being’s shoulder. “He must look inside your mouth,” she explained.

Seeing Mac there,
uneaten,
Cayhill stood and approached, taking a scope from his pocket. When nothing more alarming happened than the Dhryn opening her mouth, he shone the light inside.

And frowned.

Without warning, he pushed the scope between her lips. The Dhryn shied back like a draft horse stung by a fly. Cayhill reacted by throwing himself in the opposite direction. He collided with his own chair and spun around to dive behind Mudge who, like the captain, had jumped to his feet.

The Dhryn sat. She picked up another leaf. “I must have this,” she insisted, as if nothing had happened.

“The esophagus is gone,” Cayhill blurted. He rose to his feet, apparently reassured, but stayed behind Mudge.

“What do you mean?” the captain asked.

“It’s sealed off. There’s only the airway left.”

“What is an esophagus,
Lamisah
?”

“Something you need.” Mac chewed her lower lip, considering the Dhryn. The glowing white bands merged along the back, the entire area now appearing to pulse with every breath.
Like the puffer form,
she realized suddenly.
Display or support for a growing body mass?

She laid her palm on the nearest band, feeling the membrane shudder delicately in response. The Dhryn did not object, merely turned her great head as far as possible to watch. Mac smiled at her, then kept examining the band. At the verge of band and blue skin, she spotted a small ridge on the blue and leaned in to see. A dimple, such as all Dhryn possessed, but this felt different. Without taking her eyes from it, Mac said, “Cayhill, I need your scope.”

She didn’t pay attention to the ensuing protest, but wasn’t surprised to have Mudge pass her the device and stay close.

Magnified, the dimple became a tiny, lipless mouth; its opening, when she pressed gently, no greater than her fingertip. She aimed the scope along the blue skin. Sure enough, all of the dimples had been modified in the same way.

Mac stood up, her hand lingering on the Dhryn. “You can no longer feed yourself,” she said, unable to keep the regret from her voice.
The end of individuality. Did the Dhryn feel it?

“Then you are correct and this is a Progenitor,” concluded Ureif, rising slowly to his feet. “Reliant on her people.”

“I am hungry.” There was overwhelming trust in the look the Dhryn gave Mac. “My
lamisah
will provide for me.”

Mac was nodding before she knew she’d made the decision. “Dr. Cayhill’s broth. Some eyedroppers. We’ll figure something out.”
For now.

“Dr. Connor. I think we need to discuss a few things first.” Gillis’ jaw was clenched.

She’d wondered how long it would take him to begin to see the problem of hosting a rapidly growing Dhryn Progenitor on his ship.
Let alone what the neighbors were going to say.

“Wait, Captain. If you would.” The Sinzi stood away from the table. He swept his fingers stiffly from his shoulders, then brought them together in that complex knot. Finally, he bowed deeply to the Dhryn. “I welcome you home at last, She Who Is Dhryn, on behalf of the Interspecies Union. The Consulate of the
Annapolis Joy
is at your service.” The fingers trembled, setting up a chime from their rings. “May I say, I am humbled to bear witness to this epic congruence, your return through space and body to the birthplace of your kind. It is the pinnacle of my life.” The Sinzi collected himself, saying more calmly, “Captain, I rely upon you to expedite suitable accommodations.”

She really didn’t like the sound of this.
From his pallor, neither did Gillis. Mac licked her lips. “Sinzi-ra, forgive me, but surely this is the best place right now for our—guest. While she requires medical care.”
And eyedroppers.

“I must make an immediate announcement that She Who Is Dhryn will receive representatives from other species. She cannot do that in here.” The topaz eyes seemed to glitter. “This ship will accommodate her needs, or we will move to another.”

“I am hungry,” the object of these lofty plans reminded them.

Mac looked at Mudge, whose dumbfounded expression likely mirrored her own.

Even Sinzi could be trapped by their own nature,
she realized, feeling a sick foreboding.
Those representatives weren’t going to be happy.

Still,
she thought more cheerfully,
looked like she’d have help with the eyedroppers.

The new Progenitor’s appetite proved unexpectedly useful. Not only did it keep the being herself preoccupied to the point of total compliance to everything around her, Mac thought some time later, but Cayhill had roused to oversee the entire project.