Part 42 (2/2)
Athaclena spun about, almost spilling a vial of umber-colored fluid. The vines all around her suddenly felt like a net woven just to catch her. Her pulse pounded for the fraction of a second it took to recognize Robert, looking down at her from the arching root of a 'giant near-oak.
He wore mocca.s.sins, a soft leather jerkin, and hose. The bow and quiver across his back made him look like the hero of one of those old-time wolfling romances Athaclena's mother used to read to her when she was a child. It took longer to regain her composure than she would have preferred. ”Robert. You startled me.” He blushed. ”Sorry. Didn't mean to.” That wasn't strictly true, she knew. Robert's psi s.h.i.+eld was better than before, and he obviously was proud of being able to approach undetected. A simple but clear version of kiniwullun flickered like a pixie over Robert's head. If she squinted, she might almost imagine a young Tymbrimi male standing there. . . .
Athaclena shuddered. She had already decided she could not afford this. ”Come and sit down, Robert. Tell me what you have been doing.”
Holding onto a nearby vine, he swung lightly onto the leaf-strewn loam and stepped over to where her experiment case lay open beside the dark pool. Robert slipped off his bow and quiver and sat down, cross-legged.
”I've been looking around for some way to be useful.” He shrugged. ”Prathachulthorn's finished pumping me for information. Now he wants me to serve as sort of a glorified chim morale officer.” His voice rose a quarter octave as he mimicked the Terragens Marine's South Asian accent. ”We must keep the little fellows' chins up, Oneagle. Make them feel they're important to the Resistance!”
Athaclena nodded, understanding Robert's unspoken meaning. In spite of the partisans' past successes, Pratha-chulthorn obviously considered the chims superfluous-at best useful in diversions or as grunt soldiery. Liaison to childlike clients would seem an appropriate cubbyhole to a.s.sign the undertrained, presumably spoiled young son of the Planetary Coordinator.
”I thought Prathachulthorn liked your idea of using digestion bacteria against the Gubru,” Athaclena said.
Robert sniffed. He picked up a twig and twirled it deftly from finger to finger. ”Oh, he admitted it was intriguing (hat the gorillas' gut critters dissolved Gubru armor. He agreed to a.s.sign Benjamin and some of the chim techs to my project.”
Athaclena tried to trace the murky pattern of his feelings. ”Did not Lieutenant McCue help you persuade him?”
Robert looked away at the mention of the young Earth-ling woman. His s.h.i.+eld went up at the same time, confirming some of Athaclena's suspicions.
”Lydia helped, yeah. But Prathachulthorn says it'd be next to impossible to deliver enough bacteria to important Gubru installations before they detect it and neutralize it. I still get the impression Prathachulthorn thinks it a side issue, maybe slightly useful to his main plan.”
”Do you have any idea what he has in mind?”
”He smiles and says he's going to b.l.o.o.d.y the birds' beaks. There's been intelligence of some major facility the Gubru are building, south of Port Helenia, and that may make a good target. But he won't go into any more detail than that. After all, strategy and tactics are for professionals, don't y'know.”
”Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about Prathachulthorn. I brought something to show you.” Robert shrugged out of his pack and reached inside to pull out an object wrapped in cloth. He unfolded the coverings. ”Look familiar at all?”
At first sight it appeared to be a pile of wrinkled rags with knotted strings hanging off the edges. On closer examination, the thing on Robert's lap reminded Athaclena of a shriveled fungus of some sort. Robert grabbed the largest knot, where most of the thin fibers came together in a clump, and extended the strings until the filmy fabric unfolded entirely in the gentle breeze.
”It ... it looks familiar, Robert. I would say it was a small parachute, but it is obviously natural ... as if it came from some sort of plant.” She shook her head.
”Pretty close. Try to think back a few months, Clennie, to a certain rather traumatic day . . . one I don't think either of us will ever forget.”
His words were opaque, but flickerings of empathy drew her memories forth. ”This?” Athaclena fingered the soft, almost translucent material. ”This is from the plate ivy?”
”That's right.” Robert nodded. ”In springtime the upper layers are glossy, rubbery, and so stiff you can flip them and ride them as sleds-”
”If you are coordinated,” Athaclena teased.
”Um, yeah. But by the time autumn rolls around, the upper plates have withered back until they're like this.” He waved the floppy, parachute-like plate by its fibrous shrouds, catching the wind. ”In a few more weeks they'll be even lighter.”
Athaclena shook her head. ”I recall you explained the reason. It is for propagation, is it not?”
”Correct. This little spore pod here”-he opened his hand to show a small capsule where the lines met-”gets carried aloft by the parachute into the late autumn winds. The sky fills with the things, making air travel hazardous for some time. They cause a real mess down in the city.
”Fortunately, I guess, the ancient creatures that used to pollinate the plate ivy went extinct during the Bururalli fiasco, and nearly all of the pods are sterile. If they weren't, I guess half the Sind would be covered with plate ivy by now. Whatever used to eat it is long dead as well.”
”Fascinating.” Athaclena followed a tremor in Robert's aura. ”You have plans for these things, do you not?”
He folded the spore carrier away again. ”Yeah. An idea at least. Though I don't imagine Prathachulthorn will listen to me. He's got me too well categorized, thanks to my mother.”
Of course Megan Oneagle was partly responsible for the Earthling officer's a.s.sessment and dismissal of her son. How can a mother so misunderstand her own child? Athaclena wondered. Humans might have come a long way since their dark centuries, but she still pitied the k'chu-non, the poor wolflings. They still had much to learn about themselves.
”Prathachulthorn might not listen to you directly, Robert. But Lieutenant McCue has his respect. She will certainly hear you out and convey your idea to the major.”
Robert shook his head. ”I don't know.”
”Why not?” Athaclena asked. ”This young Earthwoman likes you, I can tell. In fact, I was quite certain I detected in her aura-”
”You shouldn't do that, Clennie,” Robert snapped. ”You shouldn't nose around in people's feelings that way. ”It's . . . it's none of your business.”
She looked down. ”Perhaps you are right. But you are my friend and consort, Robert. When you are tense and frustrated, it is bad for both of us, no?”
”I guess so.” He did not meet her gaze.
”Are you s.e.xually attracted to this Lydia McCue, then?” Athaclena asked. ”Do you feel affection for her?”
”I don't see why you have to ask-”
”Because I cannot kenn you, Robert!” Athaclena interrupted, partly out of irritation. ”You are no longer open to me. If you are having such feelings you should share them with me! Perhaps I can help you.”
Now he looked at her, his face flushed. ”Help me?”
”Of course. You are my consort and friend. If you desire this woman of your own species, should I not be your collaborator? Should I not help you achieve happiness?”
Robert only blinked. But in his tight s.h.i.+eld Athaclena now found cracks. She felt her tendrils wafting over her ears, tracing the edges of those loose places, forming a delicate new glyph. ”Were you feeling guilty over these feelings, Robert? Did you think they were somehow being disloyal to me?” Athaclena laughed. ”But interspecies consorts may have lovers and spouses of their own race. You knew that!
”So what would you have of me, Robert? I certainly cannot give you children! If I could, can you imagine what mongrels they would be?”
This time Robert smiled. He looked away. In the s.p.a.ce between them her glyph took stronger form.
”And as for recreational s.e.x, you know that I am not equipped to leave you anything but frustrated, you overen-dowed/underendowed, wrong-shaped ape-man! Why should I not take joy in it, if you find one with whom you might share such things?”
”It's . . . it's not as easy as that, Clennie. I . . .”
She held up a hand and smiled, at once beseeching him to be quiet and to let go. ”I am here, Robert,” she said, softly.
The young man's confusion was like an uncertain quantum potential, hesitating between two states. His eyes darted as he glanced upward and tried to focus on the nonthing she had made. Then he remembered what he had learned and looked away again, allowing kenning to open him to the glyph, her gift.
La'thsthoon hovered and danced, beckoning to him. Robert exhaled. His eyes opened in surprise as his own aura unlocked without his conscious will. Uncurling like a flower. Something-a twin to la'thsthoon-emerged, resonating, amplifying against Athaclena's corona.
Two wisps of nothing, one human, one Tymbrimi, touched, darted apart playfully, and came together again.
”Do not fear that you will lose what you have with me, Robert,” Athaclena whispered. ”After all, will any human lover be able to do this with you?”
At that, he smiled. They shared laughter. Overhead, mirrored la'thsthoon manifested intimacy performed in pairs.
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