The Project had established its HQ about 1/2 kilometer from the seawall. In a small square, several ground vehicles burdened with equipment stood in a row; on the far side by a small squarish building, she recognized other bulky machinery, mostly sensors and calibrators used by Urban Map. The Project had appropriated a longish building on the adjoining side of the plaza, building an array of offices, meeting rooms, and a computer room on the first floor, with workrooms and dormitories above. She had seen this building in the Aemnoa literature, too, though the articles were more self-celebration of the Project than discussion of the glyphs that covered the HQ inside and out. Kira moved aside as a ground car whirled into the square, bringing the first of the supplies brought by Santiphap to the Angkor Wat Project's storerooms.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvW4xtFpABd
She followed the people entering the main Project building, then hesitated inside the door, looking around for Dr. Beverly. Instead, she found Dr. Bashir, who gestured at her abruptly from across the room, then gestured again more impatiently. Her feet dragged as he walked toward him, hoping for rescue.
Narbong priest, indeed. Surely a king of planets could switch a few roles now and then, just for fun, and give up the victim. Where was justice?
"Where in God's name have you been?!" Dr. Bashir barked, his voice loud enough to carry throughout the room. Several people stopped their talking and turned automatically toward the sound, an attention Kira didn't welcome. He intended to humiliate her, she saw, now at the beginning so nobody would doubt, proving his control. She clenched her fists and stood in front of him, brave enough in her dread to glare at him. If she defied him, she only confirmed Bashir's declarations; if she submitted, she set a precedent for all the days to come. The dilemma caught her into dumbness.
"I asked you a question, young lady," Dr. Bashir said sarcastically, his voice still louder than necessary. Then he bent toward her solicitously, affecting concern. "Are you all right, Kira? Is the strain too much for you? You look flushed."
I have the power, she thought, and calmly extracted her iceflower from her pocket and tucked it behind her ear. "Not at all, Dr. Bashir," she said lightly. "Isn't this flower pretty?" Bashir stared at the crumpled flower on her air, disconcerted from any closer examination of her face. She lifted her chin and smiled easily, allowing her voice to carry too loudly, just like his. "I so enjoyed walking in the sunlight. How exciting this is, to finally see Angkor Wat! I look forward to exploring the city even more."
"Hmmmmph. You still look sick to me." But his comment was tentative, lacking conviction. She saw those listening nearby lose interest and turn back to their own conversations; Dr. Bashir saw it, too. He frowned. "Maybe your fevers..."
"Nonsense," Kira said cheerfully. "I feel great. Still wearing her smile, she leaned forward and dropped her voice to a murmur. "And if I find a suitable blade in this city of swords, dear doctor, I'll summon the Crown Prince and have him behead you, you Underworld Demon. Don't think I won't."
Bashir sputtered, for once at a loss for words. Fantasy is useful, she thought, and wiggled her fingers gleefully at him. I am Soma, the Moon-King.
With a pleasant nod, Kira moved off toward a broad map of Angkor Wat on the far wall of the foyer. She stopped in front of the map and pretended to goggle in admiration, though she'd studied it on tape for years, then dodged leisurely behind a group of people and slipped up a bank of stairs to explore the upper levels. She strolled along the corridor, nodding at people who passed her and affecting intense interest in the carvings on the corridor walls.
Queen Rainbow, the Tiger whispered into her mind. Will you come dance with me?
Only if you kill Dr. Bashir, Tiger, she answered. His flesh is tough and dry, but I'd consider it a favor.
I may, if you wish it, your highness. He loped away gracefully, then vanished behind a stone-carved screen of vines, quickly gone. She hoped the Tiger would feel hungry soon. She looked behind her cautiously, making sure that Bashir hadn't followed, then bounded up the stairs to the 3rd floor.
On this floor, the Project had ripped out the interior walls and rebuilt the space into a large dormitory with a comfortable common area and a neat grid of bedrooms arranged along several halls, each with a bed, desk, a bureau, and small bathroom similar to Santiphap's own appointment and no doubt from the same ship-stores source. She found her assigned room in the dormitory and peeked cautiously into Ben's room next door but found it still empty. He must be still hobnobbing downstairs, she thought, and she thankfully left him to the useful distraction. She tossed her carryall on her bed, then marched into the bathroom to check her temperature. Relieved to see it much reduced, she smiled at the bathroom mirror, noting merely a slight remaining flush on her face, easily explainable as a touch of sunburn---if anyone even bothered to ask.
Willpower, she thought delightedly.
She pulled her iceflower off her ear and looked at it reflectively. With all the mashing in pockets and alien displays this morning, the wilted flower had crumpled badly. Perhaps I can find others here, she thought, dropping it into the waste chute---though she wouldn't pick them, she promised, remembering the anguished sound when Jo had broken the blooms on Bayon. Had the humans destroyed the iceflower glades here as well? She hoped not. She stared at herself in the mirror, focusing on wellness.
"There you are!" Ben's voice boomed, and she jumped, badly startled. She turned and saw him standing in the bathroom doorway, a wide grin on his face. "How are you doing?" he asked.
"Great." She smiled. "And here you are on Angkor Wat, too, Dr. Sisko."
He bowed gallantly, sweeping an arm to the side with a courtier's grace, then winked at her. "They needed me eventually, it's plain to see. A few weeks' work and everything will be known."
"I've no doubt of that, Lord."
She saluted him with the Mantis God's solemn greeting, palms together. He cheerfully returned it, his face alight, then winked at her again. She looked at him fondly, putting away her jealousy of his recent preoccupations and wishing Ben all the joys of Angkor Wat and the life he had missed all these years.
"Meeting downstairs," he informed her briskly. "You can unpack later. Pick up your feet, chick." And he was off, moving fast.
"I'm coming." She hurried to catch up as he strode down the corridor, then fell in step with him, stretching her legs a little to match his strides.
Now it starts," she thought---though what might be starting she'd have to discover as it developed.
As Ben and Kira reached the ground floor, where people still stood around bantering, a tall grizzled man raised his arms and shouted for attention, then all gravitated toward a side hallway into a meeting room. Kira followed obediently behind Ben, happily enthralled by the bustle and excited laughter. In the wide meeting room, nearly 20 meters long and now festooned with Earth chairs and front tables, Dr. Beverly waved from a middle row and gestured to the chair beside her. At the same time, Kira saw Ramon waving from the back of the room. Ben veered off and headed toward a colleague across the room, complicating Kira's sudden problem. She waved back at Ramon and hesitated as Ben connected with a short squat man several chair-rows away, then went to join Dr. Beverly. The older woman smiled up at Kira, her dark hair neatly coiffed on top of her head, her trim shipsuit freshly pressed. Dr. Beverly looked crisply ready for friendly battle with her peers, and her many successes in that area were never affected by her small frame and lack of kilos. Dr. Beverly had polished her determination to an art.
"There you are, my dear. Julian's been looking all over for you."
"So what else is new?" Kira asked sardonically. She looked around the room apprehensively. "He won't be sitting here, will he?"
"Not if I can help it." Dr. Beverly pulled on her arm to seat her on the next chair. "You don't look emotionally bereft to me."
"Oh, Dr. Beverly, you don't know the half of it."
"I'm more insightful than I look, child." She smiled benignly. "We're at Angkor Wat now, Kira---and I'm not the likes of the captain." She pointed sternly at Kira's self. "You are my graduate student on my Glyphs team, and I will expect hard work, self-sacrifice, and total slavery to my demands. Understand?"
"Yes, Dr. Beverly."
"Good. That's a fine start. So you sneaked away to look at a wall, did you? Which one?"
"The bas-relief two streets over from the sea avenue."
"Ah--with the cranes and the stars at the capital panel. I like that one myself, though there are so many, what with every available surface taken; in a city ten kilometers square, that's a lot of walls. The Glyph Team is still working on the initial catalog, with some time out for first analyses of the Heaven Square bas-reliefs."
"I saw your article in the Ciravis Review."
"What'd you think of it?" Dr. Beverly dimpled as Kira hesitated in her answer. Ben did not approve of comparative analyses to Earth patterns, which Dr. Beverly openly championed, and had debated vigorously every point in the article. "Kira, I already know what school you belong to, being indoctrinated by one Benjamin Sisko throughout your education. But you now belong to me and I will see to the needed correction."
"Narbong aren't Khmer," Kira said with gusto.
"Culture is culture."
"Not in an alien context."
"Archetypes are universal to a thinking mind, whatever its form of body and cultural aims." Dr. Beverly pretended to glower, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Archetypes are unique to each race," Kira threw back.
"What's your proof of that?"
"I'm my own proof," Kira grinned at her. "My archetypes focus on the Great Goddess and undocumented variants of Hindu gods. What do you dream about?"
"Hmmmph. Personally endless lines of little lizard aliens carved on a stone wall---after a while, the images do set themselves into the subconscious. And your Great is a leading Tarot symbol, easily adapted to Jungian classical theory. You'll have to do better than that."
Kira waved her hand, copying Dr. Beverly's blithe gesture. "Narbong aren't Khmer."
"And culture is culture. Come look at the bas reliefs with me tomorrow and I'll convince you."
"Hmmmph."
"Little skeptic." Dr. Beverly's smile broadened. "You'll do quite well, my dear. I prefer stubborn minds---and I think your perspective is a fresh insight we badly need, so I had a hidden purpose, quite selfish, I'm afraid."
"Thank you for bringing me along, Dr. Beverly."
"You're welcome. And if Dr. Bashir plagues you, Kira, let me know. Out here I outrank him academically, whatever his official role as alien guardian."
"Sometimes he guards me too much."
"You aren't what he's guarding---and I think you damn well know that." She patted Kira's hand. "Take comfort: Great Goddesses come in many guises."
Dr. Scott took his place at the front of the room and raised his hands for attention, waiting patiently for the buzz of conversation to cease. Kira settled herself in anticipation, conscious of Dr. Beverly's warm grasp on her hand.
"Welcome, one and all," Scott said. "We welcome the newly arrived team members, those new to Angkor Wat and those who aren't." He nodded genially to several senior archaeologists. "Tomorrow you can scatter back to your individual projects, but for now we'd like to brag about all the work we get done while you wined and dined on Aemnoa, wasting academic energy. Once you've settled in again, we'll continue our weekly cross-discipline meetings to keep everyone up to date, and I encourage you to occasionally read the computer-link reports from the other teams. We'll get along faster by sharing data, folks. As I have said twelve times before, this is an archaeological team, not a university faculty with drawn daggers. Is that clear?" he smiled, standing easily in front of the group. "Good---let's keep it that way. So here's the Team reports. Since Dr. Roddenberry was one of the departees this trip, I'd like his subchief to report for Metals. Gene?"
A sandy-haired man stood up two rows behind and blinked as he looked around the room uncertainly, then glanced nervously at a glowering Dr. Roddenberry and a tightlipped Mrs. Chapel seated to either side of him. Dr. Roddenberry cleared his throat and stared straight forward, his eyebrows moving randomly. Kira leaned forward to whisper to Dr. Beverly.
“Eyebrows?” she asked playfully. “Is there a human meaning to that message?”
“In some contexts archetypes can be unique. Now, hush.”
The sandy-haired man cleared his throat, then grimaced oddly. “We're still tracing the computer wiring in the mainframes discovered in the Temple of Heaven. The wiring pattern is quite similar to the other mainframes discovered at the Bayon and Angkor Koh Ker homesteads, but the hardware in the outlying sites is more badly corroded due to the greater environmental decay. Here in Angkor Wat, the jungle acids haven't penetrated as thoroughly into the site. Once we determine the pattern, we'll commence activation of the mainframe computer with the supply of crystal disks discovered in storage.” He cleared his throat again and peeked at a clipboard in his hand. “Metallurgical analyses of the components used in Narbong construction are continuing. In fact, we've found a new alloy with electrical resistance that is almost as powerful as our best circuit breakers, but we find no sign yet of superconductors, not even in sealed circuits. It's quite possible the Narbong did not use superconductors."
"How can you sustain a hi-tech civilization with them?" a voice called out. "How can you build a spaceship if you don't use superconductors."
"And where are the spaceships?" another voice argued. "Not even Bayon had a standing ship left behind, and I'm not so sure that landing field was their landing field."
"Obvious answer: they used the ocean."
"Not proven."
Scott raised his hands. "Quiet, please: we're taking reports now. Bring your ideas to the cross-team meeting, Dave---Urban Map wants some input on transportation patterns. Let's hear from BioSurvey." He looked around the assembly and focused on a woman near the front. "Carol?"
The woman rose gracefully and half-turned to face the audience. Kira leaned forward to see her better, guessing this must be Carol Marcus, Jo's chief on BioSurvey. She was a pretty woman, neatly dressed and petite in her coveralls, with her blonde hair cut very short but attractively. She spoke in a light clear voice, her British accent quite noticeable.
“We have completed the targeted survey of fauna,” she said, projecting her voice easily, “with enough distribution for amplified ratios. As with the plants, the proportion of native and Narbong life-forms is about 1 to 10, given the time for the species to radiate into the local ecosystem. Our dissection of the tiger we captured last month confirms its Khmer origin: it, too, has the L24 protein not found in583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBltXNiGq1c
other local bioforms. It is beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Narbong imported the tiger to this planet, and we have confirmed two bear species that share the same protein. The sea-forms are ambiguous; although two of the pseudo-fishes have unique proteins, they are not L24, but something different. A dual line of protein583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjYVSIy1f11
evolution is possible, which means their origin might be native, not importation.”
“Or the Narbong brought them from a second planet, a planet different than the tiger's,” Tonia Barrows suggested.
Dr. Crusher nodded genially at her friend. “Also a possibility. As we've discussed several times with Urban Map, this Ciravis colony—even with seven homesteads in the hinterland—is curiously incomplete. We've dated each of the homesteads as contemporaneous with Angkor Wat itself, yet none of the sites increased in size for all the centuries of Narbong occupation, nor were any other homesteads founded. Now, either the Narbong rigorously maintained their population size by ritualistic suicide, as some of the glyphs suggest, or the surplus in each generation migrated back to their home planet or planets. Even so, they would have needed to resupply several of their food animals which would explain why several of the Narbong animals became extinct shortly after the Narbong themselves died out.”
"Yes, but not the tiger," someone commented from behind Kira.
"Nor the bear, the snake, or hummingbird. All three come from the same offworld source and found enough compatibility with local proteins to survive without major dietary deficiencies. For this to happen twice with the tiger and the pseudo-fishes is rather coincidental. Personally, I favor dual evolution as the answer to those fishes."
"Coincidence happens."
"What spaceships?" a voice demanded again. "They had no spaceport."
"So we're on the fringe of the colonization sphere," Bruce argued. "They hadn't reached there yet."
"The Narbong occupied Angkor Wat for 900 years, and Phor 17 is only eighteen light-years away—that is more than enough time. So why aren't they there, too?”
“Because ritual requires a thousand years of occupation before the ceremonies of the Grand Launching of the Kingdom,” Bruce said, waving his hand airily.
“Your brain is out to lunch, Bruce.”
Bruce grinned. “Good luck with your glyphs, Beverly.”
“Thank you.” Dr. Beverly sat down and chuckled. “Montgomery is the subhead of Survey Support,” she murmured to Kira. “He doesn't belong to any particular team, but he likes to stir things up with weird ideas.”
“Perhaps they did teleport,” Kira said impishly, and got herself a surprised stare. “It's theoretically possible.”
“Not really,” Dr. Beverly said, looking displeased.
Kira backed off promptly: obviously the older woman accepted chaffing from Montgomery but drew a line elsewhere. I'm just her grad student, Kira reminded herself, whatever pleasure that rank brought over token alien. “Or they used the sea,” she said placatingly. “Wouldn't an ocean landing would save on all the trouble583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPQZtsfj11g
of a ship cradle for your larger ships or building ship-to-ground shuttles?”
"Your ship landed on solid ground,” Dr. Ruth said contrarily, still looking displeased. Kira felt a brief flash of despair. She knew she was somehow stumbling and had no means to repair the lapse. It was as if she was allowed to dissent only when the topic suited her chief.
"We aren't Narbong," she said.
"Hmmm." Dr. Beverly's attention slipped away pointedly, leaving Kira in her awkwardness. Suddenly Kira wished she could leave and wander alone through Angkor Wat, unencumbered by human expectations and reproofs. What did I say? she wondered, feeling her face grow hot. I never know. I don't understand.
She turned her bored ears to more talk from the front table as Dr. Scott gave general instructions for new team members, reminding returning scientists of other rules, and told jokes that amused some and left others looking baffled. Meanings within meanings, she thought, seeing a pattern of her own in the human complications of such a group---with me was the glyph-decipher still looking for that first word. She turned and looked for Ramon, then spotted him in rampant conversation with Jo and Dag in the last row of chairs. Did I hurt his feelings by sitting with Dr. Beverly? she wondered, worrying about that as well.
Sometimes the social rules seemed very strange to her, and shifted across the board for no reason that was visible to her.
Or did this happen to humans, too? Dr. Beverly seemed invulnerable in her own way, taking charge and dueling with her academic adversaries; Dr. Bashir had his own invulnerability of opinion, carefully guarded by deft manipulation. Did anyone ever feel awkward? Ben did, when it involved herself, and Ramon had said a few things that suggested he did sometimes, too. Maybe she wasn't that different after all---but how could she sort out the parts that came from Kira's oddness as token alien? Maybe that was the confusion? She frowned and studied her hands in her lap. Maybe.
“Kira?” Dr. Ruth prompted, and Kira looked up to see the meeting was breaking up. She leaped to her feet.
“What do we do now?” she blurted.
“I'll settle you into the dormitory and then show you how to access our Team's computer records. Any objections?" Dr. Beverly smiled warmly, then took Kira by the elbow and guided her toward the door. They stopped twice to talk to someone, first Bruce, then the auburn-haired roman, Tonia Barrows, Dr. Scott's friend. Each gave Kira a courteous nod, but their attention was focused on Dr. Beverly. Kira watched them talk, half listening to the words said as she focused on the expressions. Aside from deciding that each liked and respected Dr. Beverly, she gathered little else. As she followed Dr. Beverly out of the meeting room, she wondered if she'd ever figure out the rules---if there were rules.
Now that's a thought," she told herself wryly. You can really run with that!
Dr. Beverly deposited her in her dormitory room, then bustled out for a few minutes, telling Kira to wait until she came back. Kira took the time to unpack her carryall, arranging the Narbong statues on a narrow shelve, then scouting for a hammer in the supply room down the hall to hang her Angkor Thom bas-relief. As she emptied her carryall of the few clothes she had packed and opened her bureau drawers, she found a sheaf of Project forms inside the top drawer. She pulled out the papers, angered as she recognized them: more physiological and psych reports, the same intrusive daily forms she had endured on Aemona and had decided to ignore. On the topo was clipped a note from someone named Ingrid, informing her sweetly that although Dr. Bashir had explained her recent mental difficulties, the Project would appreciate resumption of the daily reports as soon as possible.
She slapped the papers down hard on her desk, then swept them into the wastebasket alongside. Mental difficulties? What had Bashir said about her? She could well imagine what he'd said, knowing him, and guessed Ingrid's phrase was a courtesy compared to the written reality. She paced the room back and forth, then retrieved the forms from the wastebasket and ceremoniously shredded them into the bathroom toilet. She flushed them into the drainpipe with a flourish.
Forms? she thought. What forms?!
She felt the insistent throb of a beginning headache and looked with alarm at her face in the mirror, muttering one of Ben's vivid curses when she saw the flush of renewing fever. Glowering at her face, she swallowed two more of her fever pills, then inspected the count in her vial. Not enough, as she hadn't really needed them for four years. If she requested pills, betraying her condition, Medical would sit up and run around excitedly and then hustle her into bed; if she didn't get pills, they'd just as easily notice when she ran out of pills and her fever began cycling into its more severe symptoms. At its worst, the fever bothered her equilibrium, making her walk more of a lurch than a glide, however she tried to control her feet—by that point, however, she was usually already in bed, her temperature too high for anything but half-delirious lying around.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDNQqXmpWCX
They'll send me back if I get that sick, she realized. The Project would never risk her health if the fever soared past a certain point, not when Aemnoa had an existing laboratory staff devoted entirely to her physical welfare and sophisticated biomed equipment to cover any crisis. The Angkor Wat team had second-to-none medical support, as Ben had countered to Dr. Bashir's false worry, but neither man had expected her fevers to be a problem, not really. Neither had she.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSOfSj8B68G
But I was cured, she thought in despair, and kicked the unoffending washstand. I haven't been feverish in four years. Why now? Her headache throbbed, blurring her vision, meaning that this time the fever fast-rising!583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4AKazjzxZ7
The best choice was to report to Medical and let them figure it out, with the hope her fever would subside before they had grounds to run her all the way back to Aemnoa. Yes, she could hold out hope for that.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNjPppxpitR
Small comfort, she thought. She sat down on her bunk, depressed, then lay down to rest, her head throbbing in phony syncopation with her heartbeat.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGeZvNi2Idt
When Dr. Beverly hadn't returned one hour later, Kira permitted herself one last path of freedom before Medical's clutches and wandered downstairs, slipping outside to the end of the small square, peering down the intersecting streets to see the glyphs on the walls. Oh, how easy it would be to wander outward, from wall to wall, just for the looking, but she didn't feel like pushing her luck, clearly unsure of Dr. Beverly's support for her curiosity, especially if indulged while prowling around with a temperature. She lingered a while longer, looking at the glyphs both she and Dr. Beverly loved, for differing reasons, perhaps.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS6p8Z1Jfle
This is an alien place to both of us, she thought. But there might be answers here, Dr. Beverly, if only we can hear them, hear what they are, not what we want them to be.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSwOun27YhL
She leaned against the corner of the building and waited expectantly in the warm sunlight, listening to the echoing sound of human voices behind her, the occasional soft whirr of machinery as a service robot circled the plaza, and, before her, a sun-drenched silence. Once she lifted her head quickly, thinking she heard the metallic song of the iceflowers, but it was only a trick of the echoes in the street. She waited, not knowing what she expected----and nothing happened.
Did I expect the Black Starship to swoop down from the sky? she wondered wryly. How would my mother even know I was here, after ten years gone? If she even waited for me all these years----why should she? Why not assume I was lost to her and think of the ship's greater need?583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqOzD3Spkp2
We shall continue, her mother had said in Kira's dream. Raise ship, she had ordered, though Sharr had disputed. And where had they gone when they left her behind? Stars away?583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzTTQkSMq1k
Where are you? she cried out silently, realizing she had waited all the years for this summoning---never thinking it might not be answered, not really, not beyond an inchoate fear she had avoided. And if it's not answered, she thought, her skin prickling, I have to spend all my life among humans. She looked back at the square, watching Urban Map at its groundcars, a BioSurvey group talking in the front doorway, a small trickle of Ship Support people going in and out of HQ as Santiphap continued disgorging its supplies. Among humans for all her life---she thought about not belonging, being strange and different.
If I tried harder, she asked herself, could I touch them, be one of them? If I gave up hoping the Starship would come to take me away? I always assumed I would not be strange there on the Starship: easy assumption, likely delusion. Grow up, Kira.
She looked slowly around the plaza one more time, then fixed her eyes on the glyph of a Rakosh on the wall nearby. Stone, nothing more, she told herself, not a doorway to the Otherworld, not a way to find the Real Home. Dreams aren't real, she insisted to herself, testing the conviction, then sighed. When you can believe that, Kira, maybe you'll fit in. She turned her back on the glyphs and trudged across the plaza, returning to the humans who busied themselves there.583Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuy6x4JvJ1t
