Silent Songs (29 page)

"We can't endanger them," Bruce signed before Tesa could respond. "Our job is to
protect
them."

"True," Tesa agreed, "but Bruce is not staying, either. . .."

They argued for another hour before she gave in.

Finally, Jib and Tesa had nothing to do but pack. Jib couldn't believe they were really going to leave him here.

Only Bruce had fully accepted it. He seemed unnaturally calm, puttering with the satellite, getting everything just so.

Finally, they had all finished their preparations. Bruce tapped Tesa on the shoulder. Reluctantly she turned to him. "I'll give you three hours' head start before I crank this baby up," he signed. "Will that be enough time?"

She nodded and started to tell him where she would meet up with Taller, but he stopped her hands. "The less I know. . ." he began, then trailed off.

Instead, he warned sternly, "Don't take

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any crazy risks. You can't help anyone if you get your fool head shot off."

"Look who's talking!" she signed angrily, her bottom lip quivering. Jib turned away, a hard knot tightening in his throat.

"Let's not do this to each other," Bruce signed slowly.

Tesa nodded. "Do you know about the Kiowa Dog Soldiers?"

Bruce shook his head.

"The Kiowa also called them the Ten Bravest. They wore a long sash to war, and in the thick of battle ... they'd anchor that sash to the ground with their lance. They'd stand in that spot and fight... to the death ... or until another Dog freed them." She touched his cheek gently, then pulled her hand away.

"If.. .
when
you see my grandparents, tell them. .. watch for Iktomi." She knew he'd understand her reference to the notorious Native American trickster.

The older man grabbed Tesa and hugged her tight, then she snatched up her pack and rushed out of the shelter. Bruce turned to Jib. "Don't let anything happen to her."

"Don't worry," he replied. "She'll be too busy keeping
me
alive to get in trouble."

Bruce smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. Hoisting his pack, Jib stumbled out of the shelter. Tesa was rubbing her eyes when he got there.

"Lightning and Thunder have gone ahead," she told him brusquely. "They'll warn us if they see any danger. We'll be meeting up with Taller and the flock farther north. You ready?"

I'm ready to go home, is what I'm bloody well ready for,
he thought, but he nodded anyway. Then suddenly he felt a
pull.
His head jerked in the direction of the River.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

He strained to feel it again ... but it was gone. "For a moment, I thought I felt Taniwha ... but it slipped away. ..."

Tesa watched him worriedly. "Once we meet up with the flock we can try and free the trapped herd before . .." She didn't finish the sentence.

Before they're al kil ed.
Jib thought angrily, and glanced back at the shelter where Bruce sat.

"Jib," Tesa signed, "did you bring your letters, the paper ones?" She was plainly attempting to distract him from his morose thoughts, but all she'd done was confuse him.

"What letters?" he asked, looking at her blankly.
Paper letters? Written to
whom?

She stared at him oddly, her expression both disturbed and sad.

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Abruptly she signed, "We've only got three hours." Bouncing her pack into a more comfortable position, she jogged off down a narrow animal path. Jib followed, wondering how long he'd be able to keep up.

Javier First-Light-of-Day ran a brown, long-fingered hand over a model of the ship he was traveling on. The
Brolga
had been designed to resemble the great gray crane it was named for, but to Javier, it seemed more like a cubist's interpretation.

Two large, thick, triangular "wings" were attached by narrow pylons to a long, graceful center portion--the "body." On this, the ship's maiden voyage, the versatile wings--which could be detached--contained everything needed to expand Trinity's small space station and stock it. On this trip, personnel and crew were housed in the body, even the hibernators.

He imagined a small arrow and a "You are here" sign at the forward bow--

the crane's head--where he currently stood. That was the observation lounge. Now that they were out of metaspace, there was actually something to see. The stars were magnificent, in more colors than he'd ever dreamed, and he reveled in the sight.

Javier returned the model to its mount. They were almost at Trinity. He tried to imagine how much work a wilderness world filled with an unspoiled native population offered to an ethnobotanist, but he couldn't. He was only in his thirties. A good scientist could make a world like this his life.

He ran a hand through his thick, wavy black hair, trying not to think about the new scattering of gray there, and in his moustache, too. That's all there had ever been for him--work.

A gentle touch at his elbow made him turn.

"Looks like you could use another trip to the hydroponics lab, Javier." The ship's Captain spoke clearly and he read her lips easily. "You look homesick."

He managed a token smile. It was impossible to feel homesick when you'd never felt at home.

Captain Jane Stepp was a small woman. At a hundred eighty- three centimeters, he topped her by a head. She smiled up at him and said, "I never really understood the term 'landlubber,' till I met you. The only time you ever appeared comfortable was when you helped us solve that germination problem in hydroponics."

"As I told you," he said, "this is my first trip into space. With a little luck, it'll be my last."

She wore a wry expression, and he was instantly sorry he'd

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reminded her of that conversation. It had taken place as he'd worked on the germination trays. Somehow or other, he'd ended up alone with her, and soon realized that she was interested in him.

He shouldn't have been surprised--women liked strong, quiet men that were secure enough to let them be themselves. In spite of his rough, swarthy skin, and the jagged scar across his right cheekbone, he'd been told he was attractive. Stepp had complimented his "intense" black eyes, but he suspected she just wasn't used to lip-readers.

It had been difficult to turn her down. She was attractive and intelligent, and it had been a while since he'd been around women who were "available"--that is, not part of the community he was studying. But, he didn't belong here, on a ship, in space. And for something that intimate, he needed to feel comfortable, needed to have a sense of belonging.

Which is a good excuse for the few failed relationships you've had,
he thought irritably.

He lacked a sense of community, of being a part of a whole. His father was Navaho, his mother Costa Rican--both professional people with few ties to their own cultures. He'd never really fit in with those groups, even when, as an adult, he'd gone to learn more about them.

And as a deaf child growing up in a hearing world, he'd always been on the outside. Neither of his parents signed, and with their constant moving, he'd never been exposed to other deaf people, or had a chance to become part of their community.

It was almost as if he'd spent his life "visiting"--working, learning, studying, looking for a place to fit in. Which was why he'd turned down Jane Stepp. It was nice that she wanted to share her "place"--but that was not enough anymore. He needed something more.

The Captain spoke again, but he missed it. She realized it, too, and pointed to his right ear, to the gold earring there.
Oh, yes
--he kept forgetting. He touched the earring, turning "on" his good ear.

"I said," she repeated, "that I hope you find what you're looking for on Trinity." Her blue eyes were kind, as though to tell him there were no hard feelings.

"I think working with the Grus will be enough," he told her.

He thought of the first time he'd gone to the Smithsonian to see their cloak on display there and remembered the marvelous patterns revealed only under ultraviolet light. Vividly, he recalled the

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loop of tape that showed the cloak's maker at her task, working so effortlessly at her art. Her name was Weaver, and she was ... she was beautiful, the way the Navaho think of beauty. He'd fallen in love with her that day, with her people and her planet. From that time on, Javier knew he
had
to go to Trinity, to see it for himself. If he was destined to never belong anywhere, it may as well be where the world was new and full of beauty, where he could walk in beauty every day.

"It won't be long before we'll be docking," Captain Stepp said. "Everyone's pretty excited."

Yes, he could tell. The constant hum of activity and the background drone of voices had been so distracting, he'd kept his hearing off most of the time. As one of forty new people assigned to Trinity, he'd managed not to fit in with that group either. Oh, he'd made acquaintances, but while the other scientists and technicians clustered in groups, he'd found himself more comfortable on the periphery.

"And," the Captain continued, "if. .. you ever get tired of Trinity, the
Brolga
will be back. You won't be stranded."

He really smiled then. "I'll remember that."

Just then two members of the Hurrraahhhkkaa' Drum Dancers approached them. They all exchanged the traditional bow, then the leader, Kh'arhh'tk, said, "Honored Captain, my troupe is ready to perform for the Grus. We have three completely new routines for the occasion." The Simiu's earcuff voder translated easily.

"That'll be quite a cultural exchange," she agreed. "You know," she told Javier, "it's very unusual to transport the same passengers on such a circuitous route--first on the
Norton,
now on the
Brolga
--but by following our itinerary, Honored Kh'arhh'tk and his troupe have been able to bring a part of their culture to people who have very limited exposure to the Simiu."

"The CLS has given us much honor," the second dancer, Ahrakk', explained,

"by promoting this goodwill tour. We hope to demonstrate that we are more complex than is often believed."

The Simiu were still smarting about their image since the trouble at Trinity, Javier knew. He had learned, too, about the incident on the
Norton
between these dancers and the young StarBridge student. While everyone that had talked to him of it seemed outraged that a Harkk'ett had been sent to Trinity, all Javier could feel was sympathy for the poor female.

"Well, after we leave Trinity, your next stop is Shassiszss," Stepp reminded them.

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"Yes," Kk'arhh'tk agreed, "and after a short tour there, we will finally go home. We all miss our families. ... I have a young niece who may not even remember me! As performers, we have enjoyed this opportunity . . . but we long to go home."

Javier wondered, not for the first time, what that must feel like. And he wondered, too, if that was an emotion the young outcast, K'heera, shared with the dancers.

"Captain?" a new voice interrupted the conversation.

Stepp turned, automatically reaching for the report that was being held out to her by Martin Brockman, her chief engineer. Brockman was as blond as Javier was brown, his crew cut a sharp contrast to Javier's longish style, and their chosen fields about as different--yet Brockman was the one person on this whole voyage that Javier had felt comfortable with.

The Captain scanned the computer board, placing her thumb on the signature block. "So, we're in hailing distance now?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brockman replied.

"What's this about communications problems?"

"We're getting a garbled, repetitive transmission. Might be an AI problem.

We'll get them back on line."

She handed him back the board. "I'd better touch base with communications.

Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. . . ."

The group dispersed and Javier found himself alone, contemplating the stars.

Atle watched his son gently enclose Lene's fertilized egg into the freshly opened pouch on her back. In a few hours there would be no wound at all, merely a slight swelling that would grow into his grandchild. His Chosen grandchild. Arvis tenderly took Lene back into his arms and held her as carefully as his own mother often held him.

"Can you believe that is our son?" Dunn whispered. "It. . . almost makes up for . .."

She didn't finish, but he knew what she meant. For the loss of their Chosen children. For the loss of their Home. For the stunting of Arvis and his sister.

Almost,
he thought bitterly. He gazed at his lovely wife. "They'll sleep now.

We should go."

"Yes. I'll speak with Anchie, assure her all went well."

"That
could
wait," Atle grunted, then they both laughed.

But just as Dunn went to the door, its signal chimed. She opened it to reveal Leuth, Atle's Fourth-in-Conquest, a handsome One-Touch. The soldier stood at attention.

"What is it?" Atle asked. Dunn's color dulled in concern.

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"The humans' ship, sir, is just outside the solar system."

"Excellent! Dacris is prepared! This has been a good day." Atle genuinely hoped for his Second's success. If he captured the ship, Dacris would be permitted to take it, and its human crew, back Home to a hero's welcome.

And he'd finally be out of Atle's way.

"The Second is ready, but. . ." Leuth glanced at Dunn.

"Go ahead, Leuth. My wife has shared my service all these years." What wife of an officer did not?

The young Fourth blinked worriedly. "There's a transmission being beamed from this world . .. it's a warning, sir."

Captain Stepp took one last tour of her new ship before she docked with the
Singing Crane.
This maiden run had been remarkably free from glitches, and Jane already felt as if this cooperative, well-behaved vessel was "hers."

Entering the spacious dining area, she nodded hello to the few passengers there. The ship's mess had tables seating four in a brightly lit area that could accommodate one hundred.