Silent Songs by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley
Authors: A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley
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its greeting first in Mizari, then Simiu, on and on through the languages of all the Known Worlds, then finally in English. The leader touched Szu-yi's arm and pointed to his device.
She flinched from the clammy touch, then realized he was trying to communicate with her. He heard me speaking English, she thought. Does he want me to acknowledge I can speak that language? Her mouth was so dry, she had to lick her lips to speak. "Yes, that's English. I speak English."
The alien moved over to Meg. The feisty biologist kept a wary eye on him, but remained silent. When he pointed to the device and tapped her, she spat back a torrent of angry Russian.
He returned to Szu-yi. Touching another pad, he sang. The machine bleated in stiff and halting English, "I am Second-in- Conquest Dacris, Commander of this station. Tell us your name."
Szu-yi's eyes widened. That was a functioning translator!
"Don't tell them anything!" Meg shouted defiantly.
"Who are you?" Szu-yi asked. "Why are you treating us like this? We are intelligent, peaceful beings, emissaries of our people. Free us, so we may talk like equal beings."
Everyone in the room was paying rapt attention, waiting for the machine to sing its equally halting song. A soft trilling circled the room, going from creature to creature.
The leader replied as the machine translated his words. "We are the Chosen and we have no interest in war. We want you to speak for your people. But we are not equals. We are the Chosen. You are not. We will learn about you.
You will help."
"Only if you release us," Szu-yi answered.
Suddenly one of the alien technicians sang out. Dacris snapped off the translator and went over to that one's console, but Szuyi couldn't see past them. The two conferred, then moved away from the computer. On the screen was her own face and data. Beside it a translator was turning the information into music. Her curriculum vitae was oddly melodious in their language.
"You are a physician?" the leader asked.
She hesitated, finally answering, "Yes."
He barked short flat notes and technicians quickly removed Szu-yi's restraints. With a gesture that was almost gallant, one of the techs extended his hand to help her off the table. She took it gingerly, easing herself onto her feet.
"Thank you," she responded automatically, and rubbed her wrists, her skin lifting into goose bumps. Slowly she moved over to Meg's couch and touched the older woman's forehead. "It's going to be okay," she murmured as her fingers traveled to
60
Meg's throat. The strong pulse and steady respiration reassured her that Meg was physically fine, and the anger flaring in her eyes spoke well of her mental state.
"Sure it is," Meg grumbled.
They must have some kind of bizarre professional classism, Szu-yi decided.
Maybe that's what they mean by the "chosen." Standing on her own two feet, she felt her confidence return. "My friend is an important biologist, a doctor in that science. Release her, give us our clothing, then we'll talk, as equals."
Another ripple of sound spread among the aliens.
"We have biologists," Dacris replied. "That one has another purpose. Even as you do. I repeat, you're not the Chosen."
"I'll do nothing as long as we are held against our will," Szuyi said stiffly.
"This violates the most basic rights of any intelligent creature.. . ."
The strange sound rounded the room again as all the beings made it. With a sickening feeling, Szu-yi finally realized it had to be their laughter. Dacris did not laugh; however, his color grew more brilliant.
"You are a physician," he sang. He gestured at the green and brown alien that was stiff tending the one Meg had struck. "This is Tato, our physician."
He indicated the alien with the swollen eye. "And this is Rand, our chief pharmacist. Together, you will discover how many of our drugs can be safely adapted to your physiology. We will use this one"--he indicated Meg--"to test these drugs. That is your purpose here.
She flinched from the clammy touch, then realized he was trying to communicate with her. He heard me speaking English, she thought. Does he want me to acknowledge I can speak that language? Her mouth was so dry, she had to lick her lips to speak. "Yes, that's English. I speak English."
The alien moved over to Meg. The feisty biologist kept a wary eye on him, but remained silent. When he pointed to the device and tapped her, she spat back a torrent of angry Russian.
He returned to Szu-yi. Touching another pad, he sang. The machine bleated in stiff and halting English, "I am Second-in- Conquest Dacris, Commander of this station. Tell us your name."
Szu-yi's eyes widened. That was a functioning translator!
"Don't tell them anything!" Meg shouted defiantly.
"Who are you?" Szu-yi asked. "Why are you treating us like this? We are intelligent, peaceful beings, emissaries of our people. Free us, so we may talk like equal beings."
Everyone in the room was paying rapt attention, waiting for the machine to sing its equally halting song. A soft trilling circled the room, going from creature to creature.
The leader replied as the machine translated his words. "We are the Chosen and we have no interest in war. We want you to speak for your people. But we are not equals. We are the Chosen. You are not. We will learn about you.
You will help."
"Only if you release us," Szu-yi answered.
Suddenly one of the alien technicians sang out. Dacris snapped off the translator and went over to that one's console, but Szuyi couldn't see past them. The two conferred, then moved away from the computer. On the screen was her own face and data. Beside it a translator was turning the information into music. Her curriculum vitae was oddly melodious in their language.
"You are a physician?" the leader asked.
She hesitated, finally answering, "Yes."
He barked short flat notes and technicians quickly removed Szu-yi's restraints. With a gesture that was almost gallant, one of the techs extended his hand to help her off the table. She took it gingerly, easing herself onto her feet.
"Thank you," she responded automatically, and rubbed her wrists, her skin lifting into goose bumps. Slowly she moved over to Meg's couch and touched the older woman's forehead. "It's going to be okay," she murmured as her fingers traveled to
60
Meg's throat. The strong pulse and steady respiration reassured her that Meg was physically fine, and the anger flaring in her eyes spoke well of her mental state.
"Sure it is," Meg grumbled.
They must have some kind of bizarre professional classism, Szu-yi decided.
Maybe that's what they mean by the "chosen." Standing on her own two feet, she felt her confidence return. "My friend is an important biologist, a doctor in that science. Release her, give us our clothing, then we'll talk, as equals."
Another ripple of sound spread among the aliens.
"We have biologists," Dacris replied. "That one has another purpose. Even as you do. I repeat, you're not the Chosen."
"I'll do nothing as long as we are held against our will," Szuyi said stiffly.
"This violates the most basic rights of any intelligent creature.. . ."
The strange sound rounded the room again as all the beings made it. With a sickening feeling, Szu-yi finally realized it had to be their laughter. Dacris did not laugh; however, his color grew more brilliant.
"You are a physician," he sang. He gestured at the green and brown alien that was stiff tending the one Meg had struck. "This is Tato, our physician."
He indicated the alien with the swollen eye. "And this is Rand, our chief pharmacist. Together, you will discover how many of our drugs can be safely adapted to your physiology. We will use this one"--he indicated Meg--"to test these drugs. That is your purpose here.
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