Silent Songs by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley Page B

view Meg's table, yet not interfere with the work. The technicians eased away from Szu-yi slowly, as though they feared she would fall without support.
    The alien doctor approached. "Are you well?"
    Szu-yi searched the strange eyes. Amazingly, she began to feel better, and understood that whatever the rod had done had affected her mind alone. As the pain receded, she knew she had no bruises, no broken limbs. Just the memory, and fear, of pain.
    "Yes," she said simply, "I'm all right."
    "We'll use minimal doses," the doctor sang. "We wish to cause no lasting harm. The subject has too much value to waste."
    Szu-yi realized the doctor was trying to console her.
    Meg stared at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"
    Szu-yi nodded.
    "Well, I will be, too, golubchik," she reassured her.
    The Asian woman's eyes welled up, and tears fell down her face, splashing onto her thin breasts. As quickly as they fell, they were collected by dispassionate hands. The alien doctor pressed a diagnostic scanner into Szu-yi's hand and signaled to her technician. An alien hypo hissed against Meg's flank. Szuyi blinked and forced herself to stare at the scanner.
    Jib awoke, sweating, gasping like a fish out of water. Throwing back the thin thermal sheet, he peered around the tent, blinking slowly in the darkness.
    According to the chrono it was oh five hundred, not even dawn. Bruce was across from him, huddled on his floating pad, sleeping soundly.
    The young Maori had had a terrible dream, a real horror show, filled with gray, faceless monsters with giant maws and thousands of teeth. He shivered. Tesa had been swallowed ... no ... not her ... the grandfather? The memories skittered away. Never mind. It was only a dream.
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    He rubbed his face and rolled over, sticking to the sheet, his body slick with sweat. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, making himself relax. He'd think about Anzi, that'd help him have better dreams. He hadn't written about the accident--no need to worry her about it after the fact--but he also hadn't included any footage of the fish in his last letter. Truth was, he didn't want to look at them again, at those moving colors. He swallowed, wishing she were with him.
    If Anzi were here, she could change these bad dreams with a thought, put herself in them, and make them funny. He pictured her so clearly, her round, pleasant face so different from his, her red-gold hair. . . .
    Then Jib heard it, a soft, high-pitched melodious sound, like a sorrowful keening. He sat up, blinking. That was what had roused him, that moaning, pitiful sound. He glanced at Bruce-- still sleeping. Leaving the mat, he slid on his cutoffs. The song pulled him out of the tent, toward the beach.
    Barefoot, he left the shelter, staring out at the night. There were insects everywhere, clouds of them, from beautiful, giant moth-type things as big as a flying fox, to annoying specks like sand flies that whined by your ears. The lush growth of the nearby forest and its arching fern trees stood like black giants swaying gently in the evening's breeze.
    Three Moons hung over the inky water--the fat, full Father Moon, the Mother Moon at three-quarters, and the tiny Child Moon that was only the slimmest crescent. The celestial family hovered over the gently lapping river, casting bright, fragmented reflections along its broken width. The Moons provided a surprising amount of light--so much that Jib could see his shadow on the bright sand.
    He searched the river--the river that had almost killed him, and now sang to him as though to apologize. The tide had been higher earlier but, even now, the water covered the sandbars. He shivered in the warmth, rubbing his arms.
    The music lingered, tantalizing him with its symphony of sorrow, but it was so faint, he could barely make it out. He felt a sudden chill and looked around dazedly.
    He was in the river. The water lapped lazily against his thighs. He felt disoriented, and couldn't remember leaving the tent. He turned, but