Part 16 (1/2)
Two more heads-or blossoms-came up to regard him, fanged labellums jutting pugnaciously. They moved closer, swaying the length of his body as if conducting an inspection by sniffing. The gesture allowed him an intimate view of the fangs-sharply curved thorns eight or ten centimeters in length-which seemed quite adequate to a fight.
”Sister?” the orchid asked in a dragony hiss. ”The other mammal?”
Its bellows worked even when it wasn't speaking. He also detected s.h.i.+fting aromas on the air that seemed timed to the pull in and push out. Was that its language?
Not very useful for long-distance communication. But then, neither would its whispery speech be.
”The other mammal,” Bened.i.c.k confirmed. ”Is she alive?”
His orchid-the violet-and-yellow striped one-arched one stem way over as if to confer closely with the white-and-crimson splotched orchid restraining Chelsea. Three other blossoms remained focused on Bened.i.c.k, while the fifth still snuffled after sc.r.a.ps of meat.
In the second plant's grasp, Chelsea lifted her sagging chin with neck-cabling effort. Her head wobbled briefly and tipped backward, but Bened.i.c.k saw her blink. Her throat worked.
Her lips moved. The orchid supporting her s.h.i.+fted a coil of tendrils to support her skull, tipping it gently upright. She got another breath and muttered in broken syllables, ”I'll live. f.u.c.k it all.”
Bened.i.c.k winced in empathy. The burns on her face seemed to be healing under the froth of pale green foam, but the skin around it pulled up in dry ridges when she grimaced. Even her symbiont wouldn't keep that from hurting.
She glanced around, face rearranging itself from its tentative grimace to mild disbelief as she saw what had rescued-or captured-them. ”h.e.l.lo, ah, orchid-people.”
Was that leaf-rustling laughter? The plant that gripped Bened.i.c.k said, in its rubbing voice, ”You have not answered the question, mammals. What have you done to deserve ambush?”
Bened.i.c.k glanced at Chelsea. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and somehow managed to twist her lips into what he took for an attempt at a brave grin. It looked more like a rictus.
It stung how much she reminded him of what Caitlin had been when they were still young and courageous in their ignorance. It stung because he had loved Caitlin when she was brash and overconfident, and Caitlin wasn't that, anymore. And neither was Ben.
”We are on Errantry. We are in pursuit of a fugitive criminal,” he said. ”Whether the ambush is her work or not, I am uncertain-but I would theorize that if it were not hers, it might be that of her allies.”
”So that is your purpose here? You are doing nothing but pa.s.sing through?” It took a moment to realize that the second orchid had spoken this time. Their whispery voices, if you could call them voices, were identical.
”And foraging as we go,” Bened.i.c.k said, remembering the mushrooms and eggs in the pack.
”You eat plants,” it said. Bened.i.c.k wished the voice had tone, so he could tell if its diction suggested horror, anger, or simple matter-of-factness.
Bened.i.c.k turned his head to look significantly at a nearby cyberleech corpse. ”And you eat animals. I would not suggest that you would willingly consume sapient ones.” He hesitated, and looked the closest orchid face in the eyespots. ”Would you?”
The rustling-the sound of the spiked, broad, body-armor leaves rubbed one over another in tight, fast circles-it was definitely laughter. ”Clever mammal,” it said. ”Things-that-talk should not dine on things-that-talk. It is as you say. Is it perhaps that you are an ethical animal?”
That he had to stop and think on. Ethical in the intent, at least, he supposed, if not always in the execution.
The orchid did not seem to become restless while he considered. Perhaps plants were patient by nature.
”Perhaps,” he agreed.
The orchid's coils loosened slightly, though they still cradled his limbs, offering support. One of the plants-his, he thought, by the bellows motions-asked, ”Who are you?”
”I am Bened.i.c.k Conn,” he said. It had provided enough slack in the tendrils now that he could lift his wrist and gesture to Chelsea. ”My sister is Chelsea Conn. We are on the Captain's business.”
”The Captain!” the plant said. ”There is a Captain?”
”Perceval Conn,” Bened.i.c.k said. Then, softly, trying to keep his voice level and calm, he added, ”She is my offspring.”
He wondered how much animate plants could be expected to understand mammal biology. They might find daughter confusing, or not-there were plants with male and female individuals, but he remembered the reaction to sister. It seemed to follow the concept of ”offspring” well enough, however.
He felt it s.h.i.+ft, resettle itself, and the leaf plates opened into a fantasia of agave-like spiral p.r.i.c.kles. It said, ”A scion! You must be proud.”
Chelsea s.h.i.+fted in her bonds beside him, making a small sound that might be worry or discomfort. Bened.i.c.k felt his lips thin. He drew his shoulders back. Proud was not the right word, but he supposed it could do, if one didn't mind being entirely incorrect. ”She is very brave and clever,” he said, and changed the subject. ”I am curious. Do you have names?”
”No names such as mammals use.” It seemed to deflate a little, which might be relaxation. He wondered how it moved, and what it used in place of muscles. Air-filled cells? Carbon filaments?
”How is it you speak our language?”
The rustling peaked. It seemed the orchid could talk and laugh at the same time, because it answered, ”Television.”
The next time Jsutien awoke, he was lucid. Caitlin breathed a sigh of bright relief when he blinked and said, ”Chief Engineer?”
”You remember?”
”It's confusing,” he said. ”I remember a lot. I remember dying.”
”Do you remember why my brother woke you?”
He nodded. ”I was the astrogator. He told me the s.h.i.+p was under way again.”
”The world is under way, and badly damaged.” There was no grace in hiding the truth. ”Do you remember why we chained you?”
He nodded once more, eyes closed, and winced as he probed his forehead, though his colony had long sealed the injury. Instead of commenting on Arianrhod's escape, however, he swung his legs over the edge of the cot. The stretch webbing sank under his thighs as he grounded his feet. ”It's cold.”
”We're conserving power.”
He glanced around, frowning, obviously a.s.sessing how desperate their situation really was. His hands chafed together. ”Were you-were we derelict a long time?”
”More than five hundred years,” she said flatly. It was wanton cruelty and could have sickened her. But in this case, she told herself, ethics would wait on survival. She set her jaw against any revealing expression and waited for the news to strike through his facade.
He must have already suspected, because, though the corners of his eyes tightened, he only nodded. No protests of bereavement, no questions as to the disposition of his family and friends. Of course, the angel could be telling him some of that even now, and Caitlin would not know it.
Clear-eyed, he said, ”So why did you bring me back?”
”We've lost our navigation, all our star charts, any information on our destination. We are mobile, but our resources are extremely limited. We need your help, Astrogator.” She leaned back and spread her hands, fingers crooked. ”We don't know where we're going, where we should be going, or what to expect, should we reach either destination.”
”It wouldn't matter if you did,” he said.
”What do you mean?”
His smile, when he got around to finding it, sat crooked across his face. He looked older than Oliver when he did that, as old as he-Damian Jsutien-must have been before he died.
But even when his face smoothed to neutral, she had no urge to call him by his old name. And not because she had not known Oliver: she had only just recognized him by sight. She had told her colony to prevent such accidents, and set it so that it would not even allow her to think of him as Oliver in error.
She wondered what it would be like to make that mistake. She wondered what it would be like to know you were capable of making such a mistake. People must have been so hesitant in the past, so guarded in their speech. No wonder, she thought, that Means were so closemouthed around Exalt.
Maybe Jsutien had the habits of a Mean, still, because he just blinked at her.