Read Online Regeneration (Czerneda) by Julie E Czerneda - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie E Czerneda
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anxiety, Mac. Noad examined her last night following your return. She was tired, but otherwise fine. Overall, he believes your excursion was beneficial.”
“I know.” Mac wiggled so she could lean forward, wishing the alien chairs weren’t so all-encompassingly comfortable. “Em’s downstairs now, working with the others. That’s why I’m here. Last night, Emily made me listen—” Mac couldn’t subdue the twinge of guilt: to what her best friend wouldn’t listen to before . . . “I understand now how the Ro involved her. The Survivor Legend. She was obsessed by it. I think she still is.”
“The legend is speculation at best, Mac,” Anchen said, her small triangular mouth tilted down in mimicry of Human disapproval. “I remain unconvinced this is a worthy line of inquiry, despite Dr. Mamani’s persuasion.”
Mac shrugged. “One thing I’ve learned. Living things are messy. They do the unexpected. In some ways, I find it more incredible that the Ro could completely eradicate life from the Chasm worlds than one species might escape them.”
“This has become your obsession also?”
“No, Anchen. I’ve riddles of my own, starting with the Dhryn themselves.” Mac took a deep breath. “I agree the Survivors could be wishful thinking—but they’ve been Emily’s focus, her passion, for decades.” With a side interest in salmon, Mac reminded herself. Kammie would approve of such cross-pollination of fields; poor Case Wilson, the deepwater fisher she’d plopped into a study of tidal ecosystems, would doubtless sympathize with Em.
Anchen’s fingers rose to her shoulders, a positioning Mac had learned to read as mild distress. “She has asked for a probe. I have delayed a response. It has not been our way, to attempt to contact an unknown species by giving them the means to reach us in return. The risk is incalculable. And you, Mac, appreciate the moral obligation. Opening a transect gate may well doom any life there.”
“You’re opening new gates right now.” Mac might not like meetings, but she valued the information they—rarely—provided. Such as the continuing expansion of the transect system to new worlds in every direction. The Sinzi might not approve, but they were involved. Every system connected by a transect became part of the Interspecies Union. To be part of it meant hosting an IU consulate—with a Sinzi-ra in residence to oversee the transect gates, because key parts of that crucial technology remained theirs alone.
Mac didn’t concern herself with the details. Someone had to have a hand—or finger—on the switch. And the diplomatic, pragmatic, irreproachable Sinzi had the only fingers every other species trusted.
The Sinzi inclined her head in acknowledgment. “It has not been forbidden.” The “yet” was implied. “Other species within the IU may expand the transect system from their gates, but they do so only where there is evidence of a thriving civilization capable of space travel.”
And good manners. That Sinzi attitude permeated the IU: from the adoption of Instella, the common language used between species, to ships’ hatches that matched regardless of origin, to the use of their consulates to indoctrinate visitors on local customs, before those customs could be violated. You could muddy your own backyard, but please wipe your feet before stepping inside the house.
The transects didn’t carry war.
Until the Ro had unleashed the Dhryn.
“There is no such evidence from this world of Dr. Mamani’s,” Anchen finished. “I see no purpose to a probe without it.”
“I’m not here to ask for one.” Mac sensed confusion and pressed on: “Anchen, Emily’s request—it means she wants to help. We couldn’t stop her if we tried. I’ve had her working with my team, but what we’re doing—what I’m doing—is a constant reminder of the Ro. Of what they put her through—of her mistake in trusting them. But what if she continued her work on the
“I know.” Mac wiggled so she could lean forward, wishing the alien chairs weren’t so all-encompassingly comfortable. “Em’s downstairs now, working with the others. That’s why I’m here. Last night, Emily made me listen—” Mac couldn’t subdue the twinge of guilt: to what her best friend wouldn’t listen to before . . . “I understand now how the Ro involved her. The Survivor Legend. She was obsessed by it. I think she still is.”
“The legend is speculation at best, Mac,” Anchen said, her small triangular mouth tilted down in mimicry of Human disapproval. “I remain unconvinced this is a worthy line of inquiry, despite Dr. Mamani’s persuasion.”
Mac shrugged. “One thing I’ve learned. Living things are messy. They do the unexpected. In some ways, I find it more incredible that the Ro could completely eradicate life from the Chasm worlds than one species might escape them.”
“This has become your obsession also?”
“No, Anchen. I’ve riddles of my own, starting with the Dhryn themselves.” Mac took a deep breath. “I agree the Survivors could be wishful thinking—but they’ve been Emily’s focus, her passion, for decades.” With a side interest in salmon, Mac reminded herself. Kammie would approve of such cross-pollination of fields; poor Case Wilson, the deepwater fisher she’d plopped into a study of tidal ecosystems, would doubtless sympathize with Em.
Anchen’s fingers rose to her shoulders, a positioning Mac had learned to read as mild distress. “She has asked for a probe. I have delayed a response. It has not been our way, to attempt to contact an unknown species by giving them the means to reach us in return. The risk is incalculable. And you, Mac, appreciate the moral obligation. Opening a transect gate may well doom any life there.”
“You’re opening new gates right now.” Mac might not like meetings, but she valued the information they—rarely—provided. Such as the continuing expansion of the transect system to new worlds in every direction. The Sinzi might not approve, but they were involved. Every system connected by a transect became part of the Interspecies Union. To be part of it meant hosting an IU consulate—with a Sinzi-ra in residence to oversee the transect gates, because key parts of that crucial technology remained theirs alone.
Mac didn’t concern herself with the details. Someone had to have a hand—or finger—on the switch. And the diplomatic, pragmatic, irreproachable Sinzi had the only fingers every other species trusted.
The Sinzi inclined her head in acknowledgment. “It has not been forbidden.” The “yet” was implied. “Other species within the IU may expand the transect system from their gates, but they do so only where there is evidence of a thriving civilization capable of space travel.”
And good manners. That Sinzi attitude permeated the IU: from the adoption of Instella, the common language used between species, to ships’ hatches that matched regardless of origin, to the use of their consulates to indoctrinate visitors on local customs, before those customs could be violated. You could muddy your own backyard, but please wipe your feet before stepping inside the house.
The transects didn’t carry war.
Until the Ro had unleashed the Dhryn.
“There is no such evidence from this world of Dr. Mamani’s,” Anchen finished. “I see no purpose to a probe without it.”
“I’m not here to ask for one.” Mac sensed confusion and pressed on: “Anchen, Emily’s request—it means she wants to help. We couldn’t stop her if we tried. I’ve had her working with my team, but what we’re doing—what I’m doing—is a constant reminder of the Ro. Of what they put her through—of her mistake in trusting them. But what if she continued her work on the
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