"Something weird's going on," he murmured in an undertone.
"Danger?" She used the Yilayil word.
He replied in the same tongue. "No, I believe not. A change, a transition…" Again he felt that the words carried too many meanings, and choosing them was like carrying a mental backpack up a hill, whereas English was like light tiles, easily chosen, enabling him to sprint tirelessly. Frustrating.
He changed the subject to something innocuous as they forced down something to eat. The midday sun was blisteringly hot, and the air outside the transport area was almost overpowering with heavy scents.
When he was done he peered against the sunny glare off walls and roofs, and made out the dark green line of the jungle in the near distance. Weird. It felt as if it encroached menacingly.
"No appetite either?" Eveleen asked—in Yilayil.
He shook his head.
She sighed. "I noticed we are all thinner."
Ross thought back to the night before, and nodded. He hadn't been aware of it, but when he considered the Russians and Gordon—Eveleen was right. Of course, that was to be expected, since they were all sick.
But he didn't feel thinner. He felt, if anything, too heavy.
That had to be the heat—and the illness.
He dismissed the thought, and drank some water.
Then it was time to return to work.
As soon as he was alone, the Jecc returned, circling around closer than ever. So it went for the rest of the shift. No one stole anything, but the Jecc stayed close, as if watching him, though they did not stop their work either.
It was when he shut down his workstation that the same Jecc came forward who had addressed him so aggressively on the first day in this department.
"I, Bock of Harbeast Teeth Islands, take Ross of Fire Mountain Enclave to nest for Day of Lamentation."
Ross stared down at the little being. A threat? Or an invitation?
He looked about for Eveleen, then realized that to do so meant that the Jecc would once again disappear.
He hesitated, knowing he should report in. But he also knew what Gordon would say: "Sit tight. Zina's orders."
But they didn't know about the Jecc. And Ross had a hunch that—somehow—this was going to fit into the overall puzzle.
He turned his head, watching Eveleen slowly shutting down her own workstation.
Better she went safely back to their room. If he was doing something stupid, at least he was the only one endangered.
"Yes," he said to Bock. "I come."
CHAPTER 22
"IT'S BEEN TWO hours," Eveleen said, trying hard not to snarl into the communicator.
It wasn't Gordon's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault—except Ross's.
Dammit!
"He's signaled the safety code?" Gordon asked.
"Yes," Eveleen said. "Twice. I know he's alive, but I don't know where."
"Exactly what happened?" Gordon asked.
"Nothing. That is, at the end of the workday, I saw him shutting down his work area. He had about six Jecc with him. All of them were quiet, which was unusual for Jecc."
"I don't know any Jecc," Gordon said.
"You're lucky," Eveleen commented, then she sighed. At least their room was cool, but to be in it alone—she shut her eyes against its unwelcoming alienness. "Anyway, I was glad to shut my work down because the heat made my head ache worse than ever. But when I finished and started over to find him, I realized he was gone. At first I thought I might have missed him, and so I walked all over the Transport. Nothing. So I came back here along our usual route. Nothing. So I took out my com. We'd traded off wearing ours, since we work together and could share news. Save energy. He had his on today. I tried to raise him—no answer."
"But you said you got the code for safety," Gordon cut in.
"That was after I raced back to the Transport." Eveleen bit back a comment about the enjoyment of running in the fierce heat. Gordon knew how hot it was. Everyone knew. "He wasn't there, so I tried to raise him by voice, and when that didn't work, I tried the pulse. I got an answer back then—the safety code."
"Could someone have taken it from him?"
"That was my first thought," Eveleen said, reaching for a cup of water. She drank thirstily, then said, "Pardon."
Gordon laughed a little. "I've been drinking gallons myself. Saba as well."
"You've been talking to Saba?" Eveleen asked, diverted for a moment.
"Long conversations," Gordon said, his tone curious. "Back to Ross. You don't think someone took his com?"
"Oh. No. Not unless they also can read minds. You see, back on the ship, we'd also worked out a couple of personal codes. Just in case. Well, he pulsed one of those, too. And an hour ago, when he sent the next safety code, he sent another one—this one meaning 'Can't talk now but I'm okay.' "
She didn't mention that the first one he'd sent was the "I love you" code—not that Gordon probably couldn't guess.
Too bad we didn't work one out for "I love you, but what you did is so stupid I'm going to throttle you!" Eveleen thought grimly.
"This sounds rather like the Ross I've always known," Gordon said next, and Eveleen—though nothing could abate her exasperation—was a little comforted. "Here's my guess. He's following a hunch, something so harebrained he knew we'd all be against it. But his instincts have always been good, so far."
So far. Eveleen sighed. "Right."
"Keep in contact if anything changes," Gordon said.
Eveleen wanted to talk more—for reassurance if for nothing else—but she forced herself to sign off. She knew Gordon couldn't really help. He knew even less than she did about the situation, and it wasn't as if he didn't have plenty to worry about on his own.
He knew less than she did about—
She jumped up, ignoring the pang in her temples. Idiot!
Once again she tabbed her com, but this time—for the first time—she punched in the code for Misha.
His answer came almost immediately. "Nikulin here."
Nikulin? Oh, yes, Misha's last name. Eveleen said, "Misha, have you come across any Jecc on your investigations?"
"Jecc? Yes. They have a, a lair, you must say in English, in a series of caves directly south, near the peninsula."
Eveleen let out her breath in a whoosh. "Any chance you could take me there?"
Misha gave a soft laugh. "Yes, I can. Is there a reason?"
Swiftly Eveleen outlined the situation.
Misha said nothing until she'd reached the end, only, "I will come to you." And the com went dead.
She figured Misha had to be several hours' walk away, and she repressed a wince of guilt at making him walk in the heat. This was too important.
The main thing was to get rest. Until he arrived, she might as well try to catch some sleep.
So she unrolled the futon, trying not to think about lying on it alone, laid out her equipment, and composed herself for sleep. Yet it seemed she'd only just closed her eyes when a rapid tap came at the door.
She opened it to find Misha standing there, alone. She grabbed her canteen and her com, and walked out.
He smiled down at her, his eyes impossible to read.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
His tone suggested a problem between Ross and herself. She fought annoyance, realizing that it was a legitimate question—that the success of the mission was at stake, and so she answered in an even voice, "No. Opposite, really—" And as she spoke, she had it. "He's being chivalrous, I'm afraid. And…" The truth almost made her dizzy. "It's stupid, but I think I would have done the same thing."
She had a sudden, vivid mental picture of Ross stumping alongside Misha, cursing at each step as they chased after her, and she laughed out loud, then caught herself up short, choking the laughs back.
Misha gave her a quizzical glance.
Forestalling any more personal questions, she asked, "How long is the walk? All night?"
Misha shook his head. "You will s
ee."
They reached the bottom of the ramp, then, and Eveleen realized it was quite dark outside. This was against the rules— only the Yilayil could be out. Yet Misha had gotten in successfully.
Her heart pounded as she followed him around the side of the building. They walked in a direction she'd never explored. Why not? she asked herself. And the answer came immediately, because she and Ross had spent every waking moment with each other, keeping each other safe. Alone, they probably both would have been a lot more adventurous.
And neither of them had ever spoken a word about this.
She grimaced at the ground as she walked. Well, they were going to make up for lost time, she promised.
But first—a big first—she and Misha had to find Ross, and get him back, all without anyone being caught abroad at night.
Misha raised a hand, and Eveleen stopped. He leaned out, looking in all directions, then he unfolded a small lorgnettelike device and peered through it: an infrared scanner. He did a slow circle, then folded it back up.
"No one," he murmured. "We are at the border of the city. Few come this way."
In silence she followed him at a jogging pace down a curving pathway—a skimmer rail, she realized. They ran past several small, circular buildings, almost none of which had windows. In the distance loomed the black line of the jungle.
Before they reached it, though, Misha made an abrupt diagonal. Eveleen followed, taking care to match the long strides of the Russian agent. He led the way unerringly into what seemed at first to be an overgrown garden, lit with a ghostly glow from the tower of the House of Knowledge.
They passed between two vine-covered walls, then Misha undipped a flashlight from his belt. A quick look behind, a scan on the infrared, and he motioned Eveleen to follow.
Misha clicked the flash on, revealing a moss-covered ramp leading down in a sharp spiral.
"Careful. One can easily slip," Misha murmured.
Eveleen walked carefully, picking her way over cracked stone and jumbles of small plants that had wedged themselves in the cracks.
They walked down rapidly, passing from the hot, still air into a breezy passageway that smelled faintly like the Transport Eveleen worked at every day. At once she felt alarm, for the rail-skimmers were usually crowded—and at night, of course, they would belong exclusively to the Yilayil.
But Misha seemed to read her thoughts, for he said, "Be easy. This has been closed for centuries."
Attesting to the truth of what he said, the flashlight played over mossy walls and fungus-covered surfaces as she became aware of the musical drip of water seeping down from somewhere overhead.
Down, down they walked, into a dim-lit tunnel. Drier air whooshed softly in their faces, smelling faintly of machinery. An air circulation system?
Misha spoke now in a normal voice: "We found this by accident, when trying to escape one of the recent storms. Apparently one transport was built directly atop the older one."
He pointed down the narrow tunnel, and they walked a short distance along a meter-wide curb.
"This is the very south end of the old spaceport, which must have been abandoned several centuries before the First Team's time. We think this predates the Yilayil. Runs on different principles than those buckets you and Ross repair every day."
"Why didn't they just use this? Why build something new?" Eveleen asked.
Misha shrugged, and then motioned for her to stop, then he reached high over his head and passed his hand in front of something; Eveleen caught a faint flicker, as of lights nearly off the human-perceptible spectrum, and within seconds a hissing noise heralded the arrival of a long, peculiar-looking vehicle, not at all like the rail-skimmers. This looked more like the low, fast cars found in modern mines, only narrow, and it did not run on wheels.
They climbed in, Eveleen behind Misha. The vehicle was damp to the touch, but not full of water. Eveleen sat down carefully.
"Lie back," Misha warned. "Hands and feet together."
Eveleen obeyed. Misha did something. Without warning the car moved forward, at first slowly, then effortlessly gathering speed. The tightening in her stomach gave her the sense of diving down deep underground at a rapid clip; otherwise the tunnel indicated nothing, neither depth nor direction.
Once or twice it swerved, or dove farther, then Misha did something up front. Intersections arrived—brief flashes of light and slight impacts on her ears—then vanished again. At last the craft drove upward again, pressing her back against a hard, ridged seat, then it slowed smoothly to a stop.
"We are at the south end of the island," Misha said as they climbed out.
"Have you been all over, then?" Eveleen asked.
Misha nodded, smoothing back ruffled blond hair from his brow. "There's nothing to be found—nothing for us. But these early engineers were a damned sight better than the weasel folk. No sign of what happened to them, of course."
Eveleen bit back a comment, thinking: If I'd been alone, I would have spent all my free time looking for just this kind of thing. Her head even seemed to ache less. Was it impending action? Or maybe just the clean, filtered air of the deep transport system?
Whatever it was, they were out of it soon, for Misha motioned her into a kind of escalator, which whizzled them to another overgrown tunnel. Now the familiar flowery, warm, humid air clogged her sinuses.
They stepped out into starlit darkness.
"Do the Jecc use these transports, then?" Eveleen asked.
"Yes. We found out purely by accident. They all crowd in at dawn and dusk, and sometimes in between, but never at night. We nearly were discovered by them one morning when we were asleep at the other end."
"Huh." So the Jecc, thieves of everything small and inconsequential, had a secret transport? Eveleen wondered how many other secrets were held by the various races of this world. She shook her head. "We need a year here, not days."
"This I know," Misha said, sounding amused.
Neither spoke for the remainder of the walk, which was up a steep trail. Eveleen was glad that there was no rain— though halfway up, she would have welcomed the moisture, just to cool her off. She was very glad not to be making this journey in the middle of the day.
Once she started to ask a question, but Misha reached, putting a hand to her lips.
She shrugged him off, and nodded. His face, scarcely discernible in the starlight, was unreadable, but she sensed his amusement at her reaction.
Presently he stopped, and motioned for her to drop to her knees. He did also, and they crawled slowly along a narrow cliff, then stopped. Misha pointed over a rocky edge, and she lay flat and stretched slowly out, looking down.
She found herself staring directly down a wide vent. The familiar burned-toast smell of the Jecc was very pronounced, along with a not-unpleasant, slightly astringent scent rather like the herb rosemary.
She inched farther out, looking down into the yellowish light, and caught sight of muted colors. Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she scrunched forward on her elbows until she had a full view down the vent shaft, into a chamber whose walls were covered with some kind of mural. She saw stars, plants, cavorting figures that, at the steep angle at which she was forced to view, were hard to make out. They seemed to be Jecc, only they didn't look quite right. She wriggled around, trying different angles, but she couldn't really see well; the angle was still too sharp.
The swift rise and fall of voices came then, faint, carried on the currents of soft air.
In silence she waited, listening to the voices, wondering what to do next, when she heard another voice, a lone voice, human.
It belonged to Ross.
Eveleen listened to the familiar timbre of his voice. He was whistle/humming something in Yilayil, but the distance, the soft whooshing of the air passing up the vent, made words difficult to discern.
One thing, though, for certain: his voice made it clear that he was not in any danger.
She pressed her cheek against a rock, trying t
o assess the maelstrom of emotions crashing through her mind.
He was safe.
But he hadn't told her.
And they hadn't done any exploring…
Once he returned unharmed she knew she had a right to get really angry with him. It was inexcusable, to just take off without warning. Dangerous, rock-headed, and inexcusable. Yet she knew she would probably have done the same thing, and for the same reason: she couldn't bear the thought of him going willingly into danger.
They'd guarded each other, without speaking of it, keeping one another from exploring, from taking risks. Eveleen thought of that secret transport so close to the Nurayil dorm. She and Ross should have found it, weeks ago. But they'd guarded each other from doing anything daring—anything they probably would have done were they single.
Single. Now, suddenly, she understood Milliard's real concern about newlyweds on a mission together.
She sighed, listening to Ross's voice among the high chatters of the Jecc. Oh, Ross! She knew she could make a scene. She was his wife, his helpmeet. She had a right to communication! Then she thought of Saba, who had chosen, with intellectual forbearance, never to have a mate. To close herself off from the possibility of this kind of sharing, because of the possibility of genetic-borne tragedy. Oh, sure, there were ways to make certain one didn't have children—and likewise there were plenty of successful relationships that did not include offspring. Eveleen considered for the first time the possibility that Saba's policy was actually the result of a specific relationship. In other words, she had found the right person, but her circumstances and that person's own wishes could not be made to compromise.
That was real tragedy. Next to it, fussing about "rights" seemed just petty.
She looked over at Misha, who watched her in silence.
"Thanks," she said softly. "Let's go back."
Neither spoke as they made the return journey.
CHAPTER 23
"ZINA HAS SET a limit." Gordon's voice sounded quiet and reassuring. "We lift ship before Blossom Day. I'm working on plans for repatriation."
Saba closed her eyes, listening to the calm voice.
"Blossom Day" was their old code for the day of disappearance. If she was reading his oblique words right, the First Team had not all disappeared on the same day, only Katarina. But apparently Zina wanted them to move forward in time well before that day, and it had something to do with the illness they all shared.