Implacable, page 14
Geary nearly jerked with surprise at what he saw.
Neat, precisely cone-shaped mounds of food were arranged in a pattern of interlocking circles, each cone standing separate from the others. The largest cone seemed to be some kind of boiled grain. The other cones varied in size, showing a variety of what appeared to be natural colors that had been arranged to match a visible-light rainbow.
“Nothing looks like it’s still alive,” Desjani said after a moment. “Beans. Vegetables. Quite a variety. And fruit,” she added, pointing to the brighter cones among the others. “I think.”
Similar bowls were being placed before the Dancers now, similar arrangements of cones of food on them all.
Geary carefully brought out from his shoulder bag the food sampler he had been provided as Desjani did the same with hers. He pushed the filaments at the end of the sampler into different mounds of food, waiting as the mechanism analyzed and tested everything in the dish.
A green light came on. The food, whatever it was composed of, was safe for human consumption. Checking the readout on the sampler, Geary had to pause to read it again. “It’s all plant origin. None of it contains any animal protein or insect protein, except the amounts that would be present if they were used as seasoning or oils.”
“Plant origin.” Desjani sounded as if she was strangling, before breaking into laughter. “Plant origin! They’re vegetarians!”
Geary found himself laughing as well, both with relief and at the reality which was so ludicrously different from the horrible speculations humans had undertaken since first seeing the Dancers. “Vegetarians,” he agreed, trying to stop his laughter.
The Dancers, who had been watching with what might have been suspense, appeared to relax at the humans’ reaction. Did they recognize laughter? Did they realize it meant Geary and Desjani were happy?
He used the knork to try a cautious taste. The grains were slightly nutty, the various vegetables and fruits adding their own flavor tones. Geary worked his jaws as he realized the grains were chewy. Looking about, he saw Dancers eating with a daintiness that felt odd, and realized those bear-trap jaws were for thoroughly mashing undercooked grains.
“It’s a bit bland for our tastes,” Desjani observed. “Do you think the Dancers like food that way, or is their sense of taste more sensitive than ours?”
“Could be both,” Geary said. “It’s not bad, though.”
“No, it’s not. But my human taste buds still wish I had some salt, pepper, and hot sauce from Adowa.” She cast a speculative glance at him. “Or they left out spices that are fine with them but might not play well with humans. Like if they use cyanide the way we use table salt.”
“Also a possibility,” Geary said.
The meal went on for a long time. Geary, his jaws tired, stopped eating after a while except to pick out pieces of vegetables and fruit from the diminished cones on his plate. The Dancers continued eating with meticulous care, the little tentacles inside their claws picking out small portions from their knorks, the mounds of food slowly being reduced. As the solid food diminished, some of the Dancers began using the elaborately carved straws to suck up the juices in the bottoms of the bowls.
Desjani laughed again for a moment after taking a drink of some of the juice. “This is really going to disappoint all of those people who wanted the Dancers to have, um, different food.”
“At least we know for sure why none of our surveys from space spotted any ranches or other form of livestock facility,” Geary said. “Just lots of farms.”
Dancer waiters suddenly reappeared, depositing smaller trays in front of everyone.
The tray set in front of Geary had a lot of thin bread layers with something sticky spread between them, the whole thing then rolled. After the sampler gave it a thumbs up, he tried a taste. “That’s pretty good. Is that honey spread between the layers?”
“Something like honey,” Desjani said, smiling. She gave him a look. “Why don’t we assume it’s honey?”
“You know where honey comes from, right?” Geary said.
“Umm, yeah.” She gasped another laugh, this one clearly aimed at herself. “But that’s okay because we’ve always eaten it. Local customs, right?”
“Right.”
The humans and Darus the Taon finished long before the Dancers, who continued eating with meticulous deliberation. “Is this a normal sort of meal for them?” Geary asked Darus.
Darus made an odd body motion that might have corresponded to a human shrug. “Fancy. Is right word? More fancy. Food always like this. Eight-legs make pictures with food.”
“Food as art,” Desjani commented. “That’s something humans can identify with.”
“Human also make fancy food?” Darus asked.
“Not every meal,” Geary said. “Fancy food for . . . special meals.”
The Taon made the odd body motion again. “To Taon, food is food. Why fancy? But human like eight-legs. Good to learn. I give you knowing in exchange. Taon eat simple. Food as it is. That is Taon.”
“Thank you for the knowledge,” Geary said. It sounded like the Taon ate their food raw. “Do you mean plants and vegetables like these?” Even though some Marines had spent a little time on a Taon planet, they’d been isolated and never seen Taon eat. Were the Taon also vegetarians?
“Food,” Darus said, their manner that of someone unnecessarily repeating basic information. Or maybe that was the limit of what Darus was willing to give in exchange for what the humans had told them.
All told, by time as humans measured it, the meal took more than three hours, the local sun angling down toward the horizon. But when the meal ended, the Dancers began scurrying about quickly, clearing tables.
Let’s hope they don’t present us with a bill, Desjani typed.
That reminded him of something. Charban said there are no free lunches in alien space. Let’s hope he was wrong about that, Geary typed in reply. Not that he expected what amounted to a diplomatic banquet to demand payment from the guests, but the truth was no one knew anything about how the Dancers did such things.
As it turned out, General Charban had been wrong. No sign was given that any payment for the meal was expected. Their escorts reappeared and led Geary and Desjani back to the bus. Somewhere in the hustle, Darus disappeared, presumably heading back to wherever the other Taon were staying.
Sunset was still a little ways off when the bus halted before a building that seemed like every other building. The exterior was as plain as that of other buildings, but once finally inside a Dancer structure Geary saw elaborate carvings and distinctive architectural features. The Dancers led Geary and Desjani inside, not letting them linger to examine the interior, before stopping at a very human-looking door leading farther into the building. One of the Dancers spoke, the translator quickly providing human words.
“This night stay safe here,
“Sleep and rest in happiness,
“Stay inside stay safe.”
The Dancers moved back, plainly waiting.
Geary opened the inner door, stepped inside, and looked about, surprised. The room, and what he could see through openings into adjacent rooms, was filled with obviously human-designed furniture and other items.
The Dancers waited until Desjani had followed him into the room, then another spoke.
“This night stay safe here,
“Sleep and rest in happiness,
“Stay inside stay safe.”
One of the Dancers closed the inner door, shutting off the view of the other Dancers quickly departing.
“What the hell?” Desjani said. She tried the door, pushing at it. “It opens easily, but after the first centimeter there’s resistance to opening it more, resistance that grows the more it opens.”
“Could you open it enough to get out?”
“I think so. But it’d take a big effort.” She frowned slightly. “They’re not locking us in. We’re free to go. But it’d take a lot of work to get outside this door. What was that ‘stay inside stay safe’ stuff?”
“Repeated twice,” Geary said. “I have no idea. But unless we have a good reason I suppose we should listen to that advice. How are you doing?”
For a moment, she let her expression clearly show her feelings. “I’m much better now. Because of that thing we discussed on the ship.”
“The thing you have a thing about.”
“That thing. But, now, we’re in here. Just us. And that’s . . . a relief.”
“Because you’re tired,” Geary said, thinking that the Dancers might well be surveilling this entire set of rooms.
“Riiiight. Tired.”
Geary looked about him, at the human furniture and human accessories and chairs and beds. “Some of this stuff looks familiar to me. The styles. Some of the design features.” He touched the top of a chair. “Familiar to me from before.”
“You mean more than a century old?” Desjani bent to study an end table. “I can believe that. My grandmother has something that looks like this. Um . . . sorry. Why does this place feel like it was designed at least a hundred years ago? We know the Dancers have a lot more recent records on us than that.”
“I wonder,” Geary said, walking slowly about the main room. “We were pushing toward the existing edges of human exploration a century ago. If the war with the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t happened, we might’ve encountered the Dancers pretty soon back then.”
Her laugh was low, soft, and bitter. “But the war started, and we spent a century fighting off the Syndics instead of exploring, and this set of rooms was left waiting for the humans who hadn’t shown up when they were expected.”
“That’s probably what happened.” There were two beds, each heaped with more pillows and blankets than they could possibly use. “We should be comfortable in here. Is that a kitchen?”
“Yeah. What’s in here?” Desjani opened a cabinet and bent to look. “Oh, it’s—” Her voice broke off.
“What’s the matter?” Geary asked anxiously.
“Have we been cursed by the living stars and abandoned by our ancestors?” Tanya said, her words freighted with horror.
“What is it?”
She held up a familiar-looking object. “Ration bars. Fleet ration bars. All of them are Danaka Yoruk ration bars.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” Desjani looked closer at the one she was holding. “Really stale Danaka Yoruk ration bars. In case you’re wondering, the taste doesn’t get any better when they get stale. They’re just harder to choke down.”
“I didn’t know it could be any harder to get them down.” He shrugged. “At least if we were stuck in here we wouldn’t starve.”
“If I were given the choice of starving to death or surviving by eating stale Danaka Yoruk ration bars I’d take the less painful option of starvation,” Desjani said. She checked other drawers and cabinets. “Dining utensils. Why have we got about a hundred spatulas? What do the Dancers think humans do with spatulas? Glasses. These all look like they were made in human space.” She paused, reaching into one cabinet and pulling out a plate. “Why does this look familiar?” Desjani held up a plate with an elaborate multicolored pattern baked into it.
He laughed briefly in mingled surprise and nostalgia. “Because that’s an antique design from the Old Colony Alfar. We have an heirloom bowl with that same pattern at home on Glenlyon. I think Rob Geary brought it with him from Alfar when he came with the first settlers on Glenlyon.”
She stood gazing at the plate. “My brother would’ve loved this,” Tanya said unexpectedly, startling him.
Geary stayed silent a moment, not sure how to react. Tanya never talked about her little brother, who’d died in combat six years before Geary himself had been found frozen in survival sleep. Before he could decide what to say, she spoke again.
“He was really into aliens when he was little.” Her voice had taken on a wistful tone. “Of course it was all junk. All fiction. But he couldn’t get enough of things about aliens. It’s too bad he never got a chance to meet a Dancer.”
“I wish he had,” Geary said.
She glanced at him for a moment. “It’s too bad he never got a chance to meet you.”
“If I’d been found sooner,” Geary said. “If I’d been able to do something sooner—”
“You couldn’t,” Tanya said. “The living stars make their plans, and we have to live with them. They set when you’d be found, and that’s all there is to it. You never had a chance to save my brother. You never could’ve had a chance. That’s not anyone’s fault.”
She looked at him again, her eyes somber but a slight smile showing. “Someday we’ll meet again, beyond the dark. And then I’ll get to tell him about the aliens. And about you.”
They spent a while more exploring the three rooms of their suite, testing the water in the faucets which proved to be safe, with a moderate mineral content, and then each taking a long shower. As Desjani was finishing up, Geary tried calling Dauntless.
The call was answered by Senior Chief Tarrani. “I’ve got the watch, Admiral. How’s it going?”
“No problems so far,” Geary said. “Is the data from the sensors in our uniforms reaching you okay?”
“Clear and strong, Admiral.” Tarrani grinned. “It looks like you’ve had an interesting day.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Geary said. “Diplomacy is exhausting. Sitting on a bus going nowhere very slowly for a long time is exhausting, too.” Should he have said that when the Dancers might be monitoring what was said in this room?
“About that, Admiral,” Tarrani said. “Master Chief Gioninni and I were looking at some of the feed from your sensors earlier, and he said to me, ‘I betcha they’re not showing the humans the city. What they’re doing is showing the city the humans.’ ”
Geary paused to consider that, realizing that when he flipped his perspective on the day, Gioninni’s suggestion made perfect sense. “It wasn’t about us. It was about them. Thank the master chief for me.”
“Will do, Admiral. Anything else? No worries?”
“No worries, yet, Senior Chief. We’re going to turn in. Do not hesitate to notify us if needed.”
“Understood, Admiral.” Senior Chief Tarrani raised her hand in a salute before the call ended.
Desjani came in, yawning. “I might actually get a full night’s sleep. That’d be amazing.”
“Here’s something else amazing.” He told her Gioninni’s idea.
“Oh, yeah,” Desjani said. “That’s exactly what they were doing. And during that feast, with us in the middle on a raised platform so every Dancer there could see us eat. But why? Every Dancer must have access to video recordings and pictures of humans.”
“Videos and pictures can be manipulated,” Geary said. “Faked.”
“So we get paraded around to allow the average Dancer to see we’re real?” Desjani shrugged. “That also makes some sense. Didn’t the Wooareek say something about that when they were saying why Sapphire should come with them?”
“Yes,” Geary said, remembering. “Wave Breaks said something about having to meet people. And Lokaa really wanted us to visit Taon space. Are we seeing a pattern?”
“Might be. I also wonder if they had Darus on the bus with us not just to keep us company but also to associate humans in the minds of the Dancers who saw us with the Taon, who are a known factor?”
“That’s possible,” Geary said. “We have to try to see things from the Dancer perspective, not just the human perspective.”
She looked up toward one of the high, narrow windows. “Speaking of seeing things, the Dancer cities look dark at night from space. We didn’t know if that was because they were dark, or if the Dancers directed light only where it was needed and avoided light scatter and pollution.”
“Now’s our chance to find out,” Geary said. “From the look of the window, it’s full dark out.”
There wasn’t any ladder in the room, but Tanya dragged a dresser to the wall under one of the windows, then carefully clambered on top and, standing, stretched to look out. “Yeah. Wicked dark. I can see a few more windows with light behind them, but it’s not going very far. No streetlights or anything else. The only illumination is starlight, and from the looks of the clouds moving in before we came inside I’m guessing there’s not much of that.” She stretched up a little more, glancing about.
And froze, staring silently out and down.
“What is it?” Geary said.
“I don’t know. Come up and take a look.”
It took some effort to get up beside her without toppling the dresser, but Geary made it. Staring in the direction Desjani pointed, down toward the street muffled in darkness, Geary gradually made out movement. “What are we looking at?”
“I don’t know. But there seem to be a lot of them.”
As his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, Geary caught more and more suggestions of things moving below, in the street and next to the sides of the buildings. He couldn’t make out any details, just a vague awareness of shapes moving in the dark.
EIGHT
“MAYBE this is why the Dancers don’t have windows closer to ground level,” Desjani said.
“But what are they? The Dancers should be able to cope with any wildlife that poses a danger to them.”
“You’d think.”
Geary frowned, chasing a memory. “There are places where certain animals are regarded as holy. No one is allowed to harm them.”
“In human space?” Desjani asked. A child of constant war, she hadn’t had the leisure to learn as much about different places outside the Alliance as Geary once had. “So these could be like that, or something like that pillar we saw that none of the Dancers would look at.” She glanced toward the entry. “Even though the Dancers told us ‘stay inside stay safe,’ if we were Marines we’d probably go out that door and try to find out exactly what’s out there.”
