The next morning, Kira left her room and looked for Ben in his cabin, but he'd already left. She ambled down the corridor, then went to breakfast unaccosted. Dag sat at a corner table of the half-empty dining room, absently eating from a plate of food as he read the vid-pack propped in front of him. She walked up to him and took a chair across the table.598Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2bHoMqmf0j
"Good morning."
Dag looked up, half choked on his mouthful of food, and looked hastily around. "Um..."
"What are you reading?" She motioned at the vid-pack.
"Um...."
"Calm down, Dag. Nobody's in trouble."
"Are you sure?" He glared at her. "I thought you were confined to your quarters."
"Not anymore," she said airily. "You have a problem with that?"
He muttered something and glanced around the dining room, seeing who might see them, then picked up his fork and pointedly resumed his eating.
"Must be an interesting book," she said, not letting up on him. Her choosing might not always be wise, but eventually there ought to be an average.
He put down the fork again. "Is there a point to this?"
"Consider me an irritant." She grinned. "Which I am. Where's Jo and Ramon?"
"They'll be here soon. Listen, I'm busy. Can you sit somewhere else?"
Kira stared at him, knowing too well that humans rarely offered such rudeness to each other. I'm always reminded, she thought, that I get different rules.
"Scared of the taint?" she asked.
She saw his flush of anger, a startling color in his fair complexion, then the quick control as he carefully laid down his fork. As he opened his mouth, she got to her feet, not wanting to hear it. "See you around, Dag," she said, and stalked off, right out of the dining room and into the corridor. She wasn't hungry, anyway.
The corridor had its own smaller busyness as two and three people brushed past, heading in opposite directions. Two gave her nods, one even a smile; she dragged together a smile in return, then chose to go left, away from her quarters, following the two who carried a box of data-faxes, their faces turned to each other as they talked about Vidal's theory of site analysis. They didn't notice her following, and at the next turning, she left them and headed toward the exterior port. Santiphap's stop at Phor 17 would be short, Ben had said; this next hour might be her final chance to see the temple square again.
"Where are you going?" a watch officer asked as she walked toward the port.
She halted. "Outside?"
He hesitated. "Well, make it fast. We'll be lifting off in two hours."
"Oh. Uh---thanks."
"Don't get lost," he called after her.
She tightened her lips. "I won't."
As she emerged onto the ship ladder, the orange light of Phor 17 enveloped her, striking at her eyes a moment and bathing her skin with the warmth of early morning. She stopped a moment on the ladder platform, listening to the forest's hum, then clattered down the steps, plunging back onto the forest path at the edge of the ship glade. She thought of going to the temple square to see the glyphs, but her feet took her past the square and into the trees to the clearing's south. She found another path, less distinct than the well-worn path from ship to temple square and followed its windings contentedly. Her boots made a pleasant thudding on the hard-packed dirt; fronts brushed her clothing in the narrower spaces. She stopped to look at a vividly purple orchid perched precariously at the end of a branch, then walked onward, alert to every sound, her senses expanding.
In the distance she heard the chiming of the previous night, and headed toward it. The delicate sound reverberated along her nerves, entrancing, calling. With a surge of anticipation, she stepped into the iceflower glade.
There were fewer blooms than the garden she remembered from Civalri; only a few hundred that filled the narrow clearing, brushing up against the dark boles of the surrounding trees. Through a gap in the trees, she saw another glade beyond, the iceflowers flowing through the gap like a shimmering stream. They bobbed in the slight breeze that eddied downward from the treetops, moving in a mesmerizing pattern of white and palest gray, the reflected sun casting a greenish tinge on each bloom from the dark forest on every side. She stepped forward tentatively, brushing the first group of flowers with her leg, and they instantly responded to her touch, their son a complexity of fragile sound.
I am here amongst you," she thought, and closed her eyes with a sudden longing, an ache that coursed through her body, undefined but so familiar. I remember you, she told them. I am here.
She stood transfixed, touched again and again by the flowers at her feet as they bobbed in the breeze, hearing the answering harmonics of sound that swept outward to other flowers deeper in the glade, then sweeping back in response, an ebb and flow as entrancing as dancing light on moving water. For hours she had watched the little stream in the rock garden back home, attracted by the cool mist of water, the fragile sound. Here lay the source of the entrancement, an older memory she never quite caught in her dreams.
I am here. She opened her eyes and watched the light move among the flowers, a rippling gleam as the muted sunlight caught the whitness of a broad petal, the flash of moisture on a delicate blade or stem. How beautiful you are.
She stepped forward, evoking yet another ripple of response, then moved slowly into the midst of the blade, the iceflower sound rising to great crescendos all around her, soothing her sense, banishing all cares, removing the sting of human rejection. She bent and gently moved aside several blooms to make a narrow seat on the ground, then sank to her knees, surrounded by a living carpet of flowers. She swayed with their song, eyes closed, every sense tantalized and soothed. Minutes passed slowly, drawing her deeper and deeper into the flowers' dream-son. How beautiful, she thought vaguely. How beautiful.
"Kira?"
She started at the sound of the voice and turned sluggishly, still half-caught in the trance of the iceflowers. Jo stood at the edge of the flowered glade, hands on her hips, her expression puzzled and disturbed. She looked at Kira, then at the iceflowers. Kira was suddenly aware of herself and how she looked, swaying among the flowers, and the spell broke in that mortified instant.
"What are you doing?" Jo asked perplexedly, her voice jangling on the air.
Kira sat back on her heels and opened her mouth to answer, then foolishly shut it. She covered her eyes with her hand, sick with this sudden exposure, ashamed of her strange behavior. She heard Jo move forward into the glade, the iceflower sound fractured and abrupt, cut short as Jo trod several flowers into the ground, snapping their stems!
"No! Don't hurt them!" Kira cried, raising an urgent hand to ward her off. Jo halted in alarm, her eyes fixed on Kira's face.
"Hurting whom?" she asked slowly, then looked easily from side to side.
"The flowers, stupid!"
Jo's eyes widened.
"Oh, hell," Kira muttered in embarrassment. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the delicate curls of grass by her knees, the bobbing stems of the iceflowers just within her peripheral vision, their chiming muted now--and wary. "Please back out of the glade, carefully."
"Only if you come with me, love."
"Yes." Kira rose awkwardly to her feet and walked toward her; the iceflowers brushed her legs with a delicate touch, but the spell was broken. She sensed a hush fall over the glade, a ripple of silence that spread across the carpet of blooms into the wider glade behind her. As she reached Jo, she looked and met the other's confused eyes, then looked away fast.
"Are we going to leave?" Kira asked.
"In 1 hour."
Kira walked past Jo, and the other woman turned to follow her gingerly. "I wondered where you were."
"Thanks."
As they reached the trees, Jo caught at her sleeve. "What's wrong, Kira? Did I say something wrong? You look so---defeated."
Kira turned back to face her. "Aren't you offended?"
"Offended by what?"
"My---strangeness."
Jo smiled ruefully. "Well, communing with flowers is something I understand, but you seemed rather far away---and with these?" Jo toed one of the broken blooms. "They're not even pretty."
"They're beautiful."
"They're oily and stinky," Jo said, tossing her chin. "As much as I love any flower...."
"They're not!"
Jo pulled back and stared at her a moment, then looked at the glade with its thousand blooms. "Why do you say that?" she asked scornfully.
Kira sighed. "I'm so tired of being different. They're beautiful to me. Can't you just see a little of it?"
Jo pursed her lips and studied the iceflowers. "I....."
"...can't," Kira finished for her.
Jo looked at her askance, then broke into a laugh. "No, I can't---but I'll take your word for it. Actually, I'm glad: every flower should be beautiful and I've worried most seriously about these, the nasty oily things. There---now who's strange?"
Kira hesitated, not understanding. "Strange?"
"Worrying about the which-all of Flower Truth. And there's nothing wrong with being different, love. Take my word on that, just on faith. Okay?"
"Aren't you...."
"Offended? I find that question very poignant about what it's like for you among us; I'll do my damnedest to avoid the rule." She held out her hand determinedly. "Shake?"
"You are strange, Jo," Kira said with a smile and took the proffered hand. They shook ceremoniously.
"A nice strange---so are you. Come on, we'd better hurry, or the ship'll leave without us. Not that I'd mind that much---there's lots to see here---but it's not worth the long-winded trouble. How they do carry on." She flashed a grin and pulled Kira into the forest path. "Race you back!"
Kira caught her sleeve, stopping Jo before she bounced away. "Aren't you in trouble about yesterday?"
"What're they going to do? Make us walk back to Aemnoa?" The bright grin flashed again. "Besides, what was the harm? Right?"
"I hear a bit too much protest there," Kira smiled at her friend.
Kira sighed and posed dramatically, hand struck across her forehead as she pretended to swoon. "Actually, it was a beast, don't you know. All that talking and endless talking. Do you ever get the feeling they think we're still children?" She dropped her hand, grinned, then looked back at the iceflower glade. "There were thousands of those flowers here when we first came here---carpets of them. BioSurvey took samples but didn't bother to conserve them, there were so many. After that, the rest got lost in the site destruction when they cleared the jungle off the square. But, of course! Dr. Sisko found you in a garden---of these? These flowers are at Angkor Wat, too?"
"Yes."
"A Narbong import! But I don't remember them on the lists. She stepped back and picked up one of the broken iceflowers, then looked at it more closely, her expression intent. She sighed and held it away gingerly. "I'm sorry, chum, but they still smell."
"And chime."
"Chime?" Jo tossed the flower aside and wiped her hand on her trousers. Kira made an aborted movement to catch it, then grimaced as its fall sent a fractured harmonic rippling through the glade. Jo saw her gesture and the frown, and her full attention focused suddenly back on Kira, not the flowers or jungle or getting back soon. Kira put her hands in her pockets and stared back. A slow smile spread across Jo's pretty face.
"Thousands," Jo murmured, and bent to retrieve the broken flower. "And they do chime?" With great ceremony, she tucked the flower behind Kira's ear and stepped back to look. "A picture indeed. You carry that---and don't lose it!"
"You are strange, Jo," Kira said.
"Comes from the alien company I keep---and relish the more we continue. And we are going to be late! Come on!"
As they reached the temple square, Ramon nearly barreled into them. "Did you find---?" he started. "Well, obviously. Where've you been, Kira?"
"Exploring." She smiled.
"Good." He looked distractedly at the flower over her ear, then blinked. "The ship horn just blew a few minutes ago. We will be late if you don't pick up your feet." He set off at a trot, and the two women hurried after him. "When the Powers had their meeting," he called back over his shoulder, "they released the chains a little, but it's best not to push---not if you want to see Ciravis."
"Which I do."
"So do we all." He slowed down to a walk and looked back at them. "Jo's been there before, haven't you, Jo. Sucking up to site chiefs on Oxford sabbatical has its benefits."
"I do not suck up, sir," Jo declared. "I charm. Be polite."
"As long as it gets you the grant, anything is practical. Old Roddenberry's too paranoid to be charmed."
Jo tossed her head and gave him a smile. "And playing pranks last season on Mrs. Rand really helped, Ramon."
"I was young," Ramon waved his hand airily.
"Mrs. Rand remembers everything---and never forgives."
"You can say that again." Ramon swung around and walked backward to face them. "Hey, Kira, now that you're loose, come to the liftoff dinner."
"I'll be there." Kira set her jaw determinedly.
"That's the spirit," he said approvingly, and winked at her. He reached out and grabbed her hand. "There's the horn again. Come on!" He pulled her after him into a run and the three broke into the ship clearing, running fast for the ship ladder. They pounded up the treads and burst through the airlock, thoroughly startling the man at the watch podium. He scowled at Ramon fiercely, then noticed Kira behind him.
"There you are! Both Dr. Sisko and Dr.Bashir are looking for you."
"I'm sure they are," Kira said bitterly.
"Excuse me?" the man asked.
She shrugged. "Never mind. See you later, Ramon, Joann."
She smiled at her two friends and ran up the stairs to the corridor above, then slipped into her stateroom. The ship siren hooted again over the loudspeaker, followed by the final announcement of imminent liftoff. Carefully she laid her iceflower on her desk, then arranged herself in her bunk and strapped down, her heart pounding with excitement.
Again the ship trembled and a giant's hand pressed her against the bunk mattress. We rise! She smiled with fierce pleasure, her blood coursing quickly, every sense coming to life. Oh, we rise. She closed her eyes and sighed, and felt a faint echo of the iceflowers' song in the roaring, alike and yet different, two natures indivisible.
Like Narbong glyphs with ambiguous meanings no one can define," she thought. I am a glyph, she thought, her good nature re-emerging. Now what would Dr. Bashir think of that delusion?
She was still lying comfortably on her bunk when her door-chime pinged ten minutes later.
"Come in."
The door swished open, revealing Ben's tall body in the doorframe. He stepped in, smiling, completely unaware of half that was happening to her now. "Hello, lady. How are things going?"
"Up and down," she said.
"Very funny," he growled. "Ship goes down, then up---right?"
"Yeah, it's like that."
He stomped over to her bunk and bent to kiss her cheek, then drew a lingering hand over her hair. She smiled up at him, drawing comfort from his presence, then caught his hand and laid it against her cheek.
"I apologize for shouting at you," Ben said. "You had every reason to be upset."
She shrugged, dismissing it all with a smile. "I shouted, too. It was a shouting moment."
"Which you solved by gallivanting off..." he began, then quite as she raised an eyebrow. They eyed each other for a long moment.
"I'm sorry, Ben, she said, though she regretted only one or two recent things out of the man, and guessed he knew that. "Do I do make trouble for you?"
"Nothing horrible. I just wish I had more authority, but I've been out of Survey too long---don't have the connections or the research papers to back up my weightiness with Captain Kirk. He's a little too impressed by academic laurels."
"Is Bashir still working on him?"
"Julian's limited, too---all his papers have related to you, not to Narbong research. But I expected Beverly to have more influence. After all, she's Glyphs director and Bigshot-to-Be. It was a narrow vote for a modified release---and can be taken away."
KIra stood up and began to pace. "Then why bring me along at all? What do they want to do? Just keep me under lock and key? I'm a scholar too---sort of. I've got my research, my studies under you, I've..."
Ben grimaced. "I tried, Kira...."
"Goddamn it! It's not your fault, Ben! Why make it your fault? I don't think that---I never have."
He turned away uncomfortably. "Still, I feel I should...."
"You don't fail me," she said earnestly. "You just don't. Please stop thinking that."
He looked at her unhappily, quite unconvinced. "I'll do what I can for you."
Her shoulders sagged; in his own way, Ben was as stubborn as Bashir. "I appreciate it," she said, defeated.
He gave her another quick kiss and smile. "Have to go now, back into the hordes. I'll see you later."
"Yes, Ben."
She sat down on her bunk and shivered.
I don't understand; I don't understand anything.
She rubbed her hands slowly over her face, then let them drop into her lap. I wondered what kind of guards they would raise to keep me: why bring me along at all if they still insist on their gilded cage? Why had the Project Committee agreed to it? Somehow me mistrusted, as wild a thought as that might be, in the Committee's unalloyed benevolence.
Does Ben know? she wondered. She doubted it, if the Committee's reasons did sort into the declared and the real; Ben wasn't good at hiding things from her and knew it, and so rarely tried a fact known to the Committee.
She lay back on her mattress and swung her feet idly, considering. So how do I play this game to win? For it is a game---always. Do I make more trouble? Do I seek my allies? Do I play passive-dependent to lull them into overconfidence, then burst for freedom when the time appears? Do we all pretend I fit anywhere in there world?
Even so, she thought, I would like to fit somewhere.
At dinner that evening, Kira tried to forget her confusions and, for a time, to be human. She sat with Ramon and Joann, a little too aware of the covert glances from nearby tables to be fully comfortable. Dag and an older man whose name she didn't catch sat at the grad table, too; both chose to speak to each other and ignore Kira's presence. Jo gave them a disgusted look, rolled her eyes at Kira, and then plunged into an animated discussion with Ramon, drawing Kira deftly into the conversation whenever she wanted support. Jo obviously did not like to lose an argument; listening to her and Ramon, Kira guessed she won about half with the young metallurgist. Tonight they returned to an apparently never-settled subject. Kira listened, bemused, as the two discussed the pros and cons of biology versus metallurgy, both arguing their own discipline as the "real" key to the Narbong.
"Ah, hell," Ramon concluded. "Everybody knows it's the glyphs." He pointed at Kira accusingly. "But there she sits, shoveling food into her face and not claiming a word."
"I don't have to," Kira mumbled while chewing. "It's obvious." She waved her spoons. "All the answers are in the glyphs---trust me."
Jo snorted. "Only nobody knows what the glyphs say."
"That is the rub," Kira agreed placidly, and pointed at Ramon's nearly empty plate. "Do you want that sweet roll?"
"Nope." Kira transferred the roll over to her own plate. "Do you think we'll ever decipher the glyphs?"
Kira shrugged. "Well, the French naturalist Henri Mouhot deciphered the Khmer glyphs---eventually. On Angkor Wat we could really use some readable computer disks---and that's Metals, right?"
"Right." He turned to Jo. "See? I told you all along."
"She said it was the glyphs."
"It sure ain't plants," Ramon said smugly. Jo tried to push him off his chair; he swayed, but kept his seat.
At the head table, Captain Kirk rose and tapped his water glass with his fork, then waited impatiently as the murmured conversations in the room quieted. "Your attention please," he said gruffly, then looked from face to face near him. Ramon seated himself more firmly in his chair and grimaced at Jo; as she opened her mouth, he shushed her, pointing urgently at Kirk. Jo rolled her eyes and resumed eating.
"As you know," Captain Kirk said, "tomorrow we land on Angkor Wat. Site Chief Scott has asked for an opportunity to tell the new members of the Angkor Wat team about our objectives this season. Dr. Scott?"
An older man seated next to the captain, tanned and blonde and tall, rose to his feet and nodded benignly. Kira had met the Angkor Wat Site Chief once at one of the university parties; he seemed like an intelligent man, less impressed than most academics by his own importance. She saw expressions change around the room like ripples in a pond, most of them approving.
Dr. Scott raised his hands, and the final murmur of table conversation stopped. "Welcome, people. I see a few from the Phor 17 team who now have joined the right army by defecting to us." He smiled wryly, inviting all into his small joke. "Dr. McCoy, your help with the Urban Map aerial surveys will be most appreciated." He nodded at a brown-haired man at the second table, then smiled more widely at the woman seated beside McCoy. "Tasha Yar, your assistance with BioSurvey will be most welcome. I always enjoy seeing the reunion of old school colleagues, and I'm pleased that Leslie finally convinced you to leave your ivory tower at Kiev." The Ukrainian professor nodded sedately, and Kira tried to crane her neck unobtrusively to see more of her face.
"Someday I'll be a bigshot, too," Ramon grumbled, "and get my own perks of after-dinner accolades. Why doesn't he get on with it?" Jo shushed him.
Dr. Scott turned to Ben at a nearby table. "And, Dr. Sisko, welcome. As you all know, the Committee has given in to Dr. Crusher's requests and sent Kira with us, finally releasing Dr. Sisko from his exile. It's been too long, Ben, and I know you're anxious to return to the field." Kira looked down at her plate, feeling a slow wash of humiliation. As usual, Dr. Scott was oblivious, meaning well; they always did. She looked up and Ramon caught her glance, then gave her a wry smile.
"Doesn't it ever stop?" he asked in a low voice.
"What?" Jo asked. Dag gave them all a glare and motioned imperatively at the head of the room.
"But now, I'm sure," Dr. Scott went on, "you all want to hear about the progress made at Angkor Wat last season. Urban Map has nearly completed their initial site-survey analysis, and we've identified all the main structures and much of the outlying support structures in four of the seven outlands. As you know, Angkor Wat is several times larger than the outpost on Bayon, and we believe that it may have functioned as a provincial capital. The administrative complex is much larger and more complicated, suggesting additional governmental functions, and the glyph pattern seems to suggest more ceremonial functions, too. Urban Map's initial conclusions and data are available in the ship computers, and we'll supplement with the new work performed while Santiphap was on circuit. Dr. Picard's team has made great strides in the last three years, and I know he'll welcome the four extra team personnel we're bringing on this trip."
Dr. Scott took a sip of water from his glass, then hooked his thumb in his belt, assured and confident. Kira watched him closely, trying to gauge the reaction of the others, but all seemed attentive. He had a good presence, she decided judiciously, a good leadership--and felt ashamed when she immediately compared him to Ben. Ben's speeches were not polished and tended to drone. She craned her head and saw Ben at the table across the room, still eating as he listened, Dr. Crusher smiling pleasantly at his side.
"The Project Committee has asked BioSurvey to start a colony study----" Dr. Scott paused as a murmured protest swept the room. He raised his hands to still it. "Nothing has been decided about immigration, either at Phor 17 or Ciravis. Even if both are opened to colonization by Alpha Centauri, which needs the space most, I have received assurances from Earth itself that both Narbong sites will be preserved as a restricted site."
"Come on, Monty," Dr. McCoy protested. "We've heard that before. Alpha Centauri's demands are just another version of the bulldozers. How can we police a site several kilometers square? We'll have colonists carving their initials in every rock!"
"As I said," Scott went on, "nothing's been decided."
"And I don't believe their assurances, either," McCoy said angrily. "We got our 'special preserve' for Egypt, and it didn't stop the smog from eating the Great Pyramids away stone by stone. You simply can't bring industrialization next to a delicate archaeological site, even if we put up 20-foot fences all around the city."
"I'm sure the debate will go on," Scott said, unperturbed. "And while we debate, immigration will be delayed. I'm sure that many here can contribute the useful words." He looked pointedly at McCoy, who quirked his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm great at waving my arms," the younger man said.
"Put some devotion into it Leonard, and we might get five more years. It'll count. In the meantime, the Angkor Wat BioSurvey team has finished their initial survey of the surrounding ecosystem. They've discovered forty new species of insect, several big carnivores, and over a hundred new plant forms."
"Now to sort out what's native and what's Narbong," Dr. Beverly called out.
"Keep that on the low burner, Beverly," Scott said amicably. "You'll have plenty of time to argue with Janeway when you get to Angkor Wat."
"I think it's obvious that not everything can be native," Dr. Beverly said. "Kathryn has mush for brains." Several in the gathering laughed, including Jo.
"And, finally, Glyphs and Metals. Dr. Roddenberry continues to make progress on his analysis of the Narbong computers, and I think Dr. Crusher may actually have the first key to the Angkor Thom temple triumph sequence. At least our computer is satisfied with the logic; we'll see if the approach can decipher other sequences. Helping her, as I mentioned, will be Kira Nerys Sisko, who has joined us on this survey." He looked straight at Kira and nearly every eye in the room swiveled toward her. Kira had a sudden urge to ooze out of her chair and hide under the table, but she managed a tight smile and nod, knowing that she probably looked arrogant as she did so. "Kira will join the Glyphs team as Dr. Crusher's second assistant, and I'm sure she'll be very helpful in advancing our understanding of the glyphs."
He meant to be kind, this time more deftly, but Kira had grown too familiar with certain wary expressions on human faces. Across the room, Dr. Bashir looked at her coldly, his displeasure written in every line of his face. She saw him jerk slightly, then don an engaging grin as he turned to the woman seated beside him and started talking to her animatedly. Kira looked down at her slender hands and felt the old despair well up again. Scott moved smoothly onto another topic.
"There's nothing like putting on a stage, is there?" Ramon asked in a low voice.
She smiled at him, surprised at his empathy. "You're so right."
"Well, I don't care if you're the greatest theoretical thing since sesame bread. Scott's okay, Kira. Don't get upset."
"Do you always figure people out like this?"
"Comes from being half-Khmer," he said obscurely, then grinned at her and saluted with his water glass. "We like mysteries, being still a mystery ourselves. And you're a mystery, too. Maybe at Angkor Wat you can work on both puzzles."
"And how do you suggest I do that?"
"Oh, I don't know. But anything's possible."
She smiled at him again, liking him even more. "Thank you, Ramon, for understanding."
"You're absolutely welcome!"
"Understanding what?" Jo asked, turning around.
"Gotta stay tuned in to get the news, Jo." Jo gave him a disgusted look and pointedly turned back toward the front table. Jo chuckled. "Jo's okay, Kira. Someday, say 50 years from now, her springs might wear down, but until they what you've seen is what you get."
"I hope your diodes corrode," Jo muttered, having heard every word.
"Never. I check into the repair shop too much just to polish my smile." He demonstrated, his white teeth brilliant against his copper-colored skin. Jo snorted rudely, and Ramon's smile widened. "See, Kira? You just keep her off balance all the time; she keeps to her place just fine."
That time she did push Ramon off his chair, and he caught himself hastily on the table. Eyes swiveled at the nearby tables, but neither seemed to mind. To not mind the eyes, Kira mused: could I learn that?
"Trying to join my crowd of one?" she hazarded as Ramon righted himself and sat down again, robed in his bronzed dignity.
"Why not?" Ramon said. "I've tried my side of the universe; got some room in yours?"
"Whatever are you talking about?" Dag drawled unpleasantly.
"Nothing you'd understand," Ramon shot at him. "You know, Dag, someday the universe might surprise you and mark you a null-digit on those maps of yours." Dag glared, then turned his shoulder to Ramon.
Kira looked from one face to the other, bewildered, knowing that somehow she had caused this. She always watched so carefully, but she tended to get behind in keeping up with the shifts the humans practiced. Ramon winked at her. "Don't worry, Kira. Once we get to Angkor Wat, everybody'll have more than enough distractions, even you. After all, you're going to solve the glyphs, right?"
"Of course."
"And I'll solve metals, and Jo will write the definitive text on Angkor Wat flora and fauna, and Dag can eat our dust." He raised his glass. "To Angkor Wat!"
"To Angkor Wat!" Jo echoed.
Kira raised her own glass and mimicked the salute, then caught Dr. Bashir's frozen stare, a twin to Mrs. Chapel's poisonous look at Ramon from another table. Mrs. Chapel whispered to her cold-faced chief, and a few moments later Ramon was summoned away to their table. Kira sighed and looked down at her plate. I wish I knew what the rules were, she thought tiredly---or, rather, which rules were mine. I don't seem to fit in, no matter how Jo and Ramon try. Suddenly she wished she were safe in her cabin, hidden in the half darkness, a stupid wish after all the effort she'd taken to get out of it.598Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2qvQLcIBQ2
Stupid. I feel upways and downways and inside out. What did this academic self-congratulation have to do with her? Who gives a damn if the humans drag in their colonists and destroy Angkor Wat with fumes like their bulldozers destroyed the iceflowers at Bayon? Who cares? Who cares? Across the room she saw Ben nod and smile to somebody, then bend to listen attentively to Dr. Beverly, at ease in his element, the ebb and flow of the profession he fit so well. He looked ten years younger as he waved his fork enthusiastically, then pointed jocularly to make some point. Not once did he look at her, too intent on his professional comrades and the life he loved best. She watched him laugh, then scowl slightly, then tip his head roguishly, gesture that had been hers on Aemnoa.598Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5BnhNqNuBO
Jealousy doesn't become you, Kira, she told herself. Grow up.
The murmur of conversation flowed around her, smothering her, would erase her if it could. She took her supplements vial from her pocket and swallowed the pills, completing her own meal, then waited for the right moment to excuse herself. Finally, she just nodded generally and got up and left, her feet dragging.
Probably it was a party, she thought. It looked like a dinner, but really it was a party. That explains it, I'm sure.598Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXT3ERGLu6q
