A HANDFUL OF PEARLS

Beth Bernobich

Illustrated by Jesse Speak

Beth’s fiction has appeared in Asimov’s, Strange Horizons, Helix SF and Sex in the System, among other places, and her novella ‘Ars Memoriae’ will appear as a limited-edition chapbook from PS Publishing in 2009. She is currently at work on too many novels.

It was said in folk tales that the world came to be when Ame-no fell sick from a pomegranate offered to him by the Monkey-god. Greedy for its sweetness, Ame-no ate the fruit in a single gulp, only to discover the Monkey-god had filled it with poison. He sweated and groaned and heaved up the mountains. He sweated and groaned and spewed forth the oceans. When the sickness at last faded from his belly, Ame-no spat upon the ocean to show his contempt for the Monkey-god’s evil tricks.

And from every drop of spittle there appeared an island.

Three dark smudges broke the endless green horizon, just below the faint white discs of the twin moons. Yan Dei leaned over the ship’s rail and squinted through the warm ocean spray. The sun was just slanting behind the expedition ships, and the waters ran red and silver from the liquid sunset. Between the mist and the approaching twilight, it was hard to make out if those were storm clouds rising above the waves, or if at last they had reached—

“Land!” a crew member called out. “Land, ho!”

Almost immediately, a clamor broke out behind Yan—shouts and laughter and delighted cries. Half the crew, those not strictly on duty, and all the scientists crowded the decks, everyone chattering excitedly. Yan squeezed his way from their midst and took refuge behind the ladder to the upper decks. Here the ship’s metal skin hummed as the electric engines shifted into a lower gear. A hot tinny smell rolled up from below decks, making his stomach heave.

Hari Dun strolled over to Yan. “Not interested?”

“Hard to breathe in that mob,” Yan said shortly.

His friend smiled. “Understandable.” He glanced toward the ship’s bow, which was hardly visible through the hordes. “And I can’t blame them. It’s been a long voyage. Give them another few minutes, and Doctor Mar will have them back at their posts. Then we can get a glimpse ourselves.”

A ripple of movement passed through the crowds, and those nearest Yan and Hari pressed back as Bej Saihan, the expedition’s lead tracker, shouldered his way toward the bow. He paused, standing head and shoulders above everyone else, and scanned all points of the horizon, seemingly unaware of the small clearing that formed around him. As Bej swiveled his massive head around, Yan caught a glimpse of the man’s blunt features.

Not quite a man, or so the rumors claimed.

Bej’s massive jaw and squashed nose looked crude, unfinished, as though someone had haphazardly shaped his features from a muddy lump of clay. It was said in whispers that Bej counted the pemburu among his ancestors. That Kun Mar had rescued the man from prison, and had given him jobs that used his uncanny hunting skills. The pemburu were the hunters—half-cousins to humans—and looking at Bej’s face, Yan could easily imagine him in a jungle, or in the ruined coastal cities, where a few pockets of pemburu survived.

Now Kun Mar, the senior biologist and expedition leader, strode into view. “Back to your posts,” he shouted. “We’ll see land soon enough. Team leaders, I’d like to see all of you in the main boardroom. Now.”

The crowds quickly scattered. Yan expected Hari to go immediately—he was the senior biochemist for the expedition—but Hari went forward to the rails and lingered a few moments, gazing southward. “The pearls of the southeast,” he murmured. “So the poets called them. I like the old legends better, myself.”

“Spittle from the heavens,” Yan said, wrinkling his nose. “I know the tales.”

Hari grinned. “Do not despise them, my friend. Spittle and vomit are the working tools of the scientist. And from these we will make pearls.” The grin faded, and his eyes narrowed to a speculative look as he studied the horizon. “Six months of paradise,” he said quietly. “Six months of discovery and exploration, masquerading as hard work. Hmmmmm. I think I smell land. Can you?”

Yan took a tentative sniff, then a deeper one. Yes, just beneath the heavy salt tang, he detected a sharp biting scent that reminded him of crushed leaves. “Trees and bark and mud and swamp.”

“Shit and musk and old rotting things.”

“Hah. You can’t smell all that.”

Hari laughed quietly. “No. Only Bej Saihan could claim that ability. But soon—tomorrow at the latest—you and I both will. And like the lucky seventh son in the folk tales, let us hope we can turn all the shit we find into gold.” He pushed off from the rails. “Well, I best go before Kun starts bellowing. Take care, Yan.”

Yan nodded. He had not missed Hari’s subtle hints. Work hard. Be a good member of the team. Even that comment about shit and gold meant something, for that was the point of this expedition, a joint venture between XiangGen Pharmaceuticals and the Tai Jing Federal Council on Scientific Research. If their research led to even one medical breakthrough, it meant acclaim for every member of this expedition.

Or even just a second chance, Yan thought. With his department head at the University. With Meh.

He smacked both palms against the railing. Not my fault. Not—

Yan clamped his lips shut and glanced around. Slowly he let his breath trickle out. Good. No one had seen that tiny outburst. It would not do to make the wrong impression. Not here where every interaction found its way into the official reports. Best to forget Meh. His future lay just ahead, within those islands.

He turned his attention back to the horizon. In just the past few moments, the bumps and smudges had turned into distinct masses, like a handful of mismatched pearls, scattered by the gods over the far seas. He could even make out a jagged peak that might be a volcano. Above them, the twin moons stood out sharper against the evening sky, and a spray of pale stars emerged. A creaking sound vibrated through the air, as the ship’s solar sails folded for the night.

Yan flexed his hands and breathed in deep lungfuls of the ocean air. The smell of crushed leaves was stronger now, mixed with the unmistakable scent of rotting fish. A strange paradise, indeed.

The tightness in his gut eased. This time I will not stumble.

The expedition’s three ships navigated cautiously past the rocks and shoals that ringed the island chain. Their first destination was a shallow harbor belonging to the island designated as XTI-19S137W-1A.

Using maps from the earlier survey teams, Kun Mar and his advisors chose a level site beside a wide swift-running stream, half a klick inland. For the next five days, the crews cleared away the brush, dug trenches, and transported crates of equipment from the ships. By the sixth morning, a miniature settlement existed where before only scrub trees grew. Various technicians still worked to set up the laboratory equipment, but the main work was complete. The other ships withdrew their crews and began preparations for their departure.

Yan spent most of the day transferring the last of his belongings from the ship and setting up his sleeping tent. Late that afternoon, he joined the rest of the microbiology team at their lab site, which occupied the southern quadrant of the camp.

“You will work in pairs,” Doctor Au told them. “Each senior member will be assigned a junior partner. A teaching partnership, if you will. We are here to find practical applications, but Doctor Mar tells me there is no rule against expanding our knowledge—as long as we do our work.”

Smiles on several faces. A few laughed dutifully.

“We start work tomorrow,” Au went on. “You’ve read the materials and reports, and you know my ideas for how to approach our task. So. For the rest of today, I suggest you familiarize yourself with our immediate surroundings. You will not have the leisure for that later. At least I hope not.”

More laughter and some obvious delight at being released, if only for the afternoon. Doctor Au handed out slips of paper with the partner assignments. Yan read the name Lian Luo. One of the graduate students from the State University, he remembered. He had come across her once or twice aboard the ship, always in the company of other students. He glanced around and found her sitting with a few friends, all students and technicians, discussing their assignments. Easy enough to read her thoughts, though she greeted him politely when he approached her.

“You are stuck with me,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

Lian offered him a tentative smile. “Don’t be. I hope to learn a lot from you, Doctor Dei.”

She was a pretty girl. Long wispy dark hair, barely contained by her hair clips. Narrow eyes canted above delicate cheekbones. He smiled back, in what he hoped was a pleasant manner. “We can learn from each other.”

An awkward pause followed. Lian gave him another quick smile. “Well. I must go and see about my tent. If you will excuse me.”

The rest of the team went their separate ways. Yan returned to his sleeping quarters. He unpacked a few items, then stowed his trunk out of sight. A dozen books and several photographs of his parents and two brothers made his small bookshelf look less empty. He wished he still had photos of Meh, but she had removed them all from their apartment.

My apartment, he corrected himself automatically.

Once theirs together.

Yan closed his eyes. The air pulsed against his skin, making his head throb. Steady, he told himself. It was the heat, the tent’s closeness, the excitement of landing. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

He escaped his tent and took himself to Hari’s new headquarters, where he found a dozen technicians checking rows of vials against their printed labels. Hari and his senior assistant, Che Lok were bent over one of the worktables, reviewing stacks of reports.

Hari glanced up. “Yan!” he exclaimed. “Excellent. Please rescue me from my too-vigilant assistant, Doctor Lok. You do know each other, no?”

Che was a tall angular young woman. Afraid of looking pretty, Yan thought, taking in her severe, tight braid and lack of makeup. He already knew about her from Hari’s frequent references. Che had just earned her doctoral degree, and Hari had hand-picked her for this expedition.

Che met Yan’s gaze briefly. A slight crease appeared between her brows. “We’ve met.”

“We did?” Yan said. “Was that on board ship?”

Che glanced at Hari and shrugged. “Where else?”

Yan had no answer to that. He turned to Hari. “I’m hardly making a rescue. Are you busy, or would you like to take an early dinner?”

“Hmmm. Not too busy. A walk first, old friend. Or perhaps walk and dinner at the same time. After all, Doctor Lok has our lab well under control.”

At the second mention of her new degree, Che’s smile became genuine. “You are too kind.”

“Never,” Hari cried. “Doctor Mar emphasized that we are to be hard, cruel taskmasters. To that end, would you please check over the reagents? And have the technicians unpack the larger beakers and pipes. We shall want to run some preliminary tests tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t keep him too long,” Yan said to Che.

Che gave him a cryptic look, but did not reply. Yan hesitated, thinking he should say something more, but Hari was already propelling him out of the tent.

At the kitchen compound, they selected a handful of self-heating food packs and headed down the beach. Several groups made picnics by the stream’s mouth, but further along, they found themselves alone, treading a curving, looping path between the seas and vegetation. Quiet settled around them, broken only by the hush, hush, hush of the waves. Ahead, the shore stretched, an untouched expanse of pale green sands made of tiny particles of semi-precious stones that glittered in the fading sunlight. A short distance out, their ship stood out against the violet skies, its solar sails folded like awkward wings. Lights from the portholes winked on and off. A faint hum from the electric motors rippled over the water.

“I love this time of the day,” Hari said softly. “It’s as though we are walking through borders. Sunlight and moonlight. One day and the next. The rules are different at twilight, the old folk tales say. A magical hour when we might accomplish anything.”

“Are you talking about miracles?” Yan asked.

“Practical ones,” Hari answered. “A drug to cure senility. A fuel more powerful than coal or sunlight, and more plentiful than oil. Even an engine that lets us fly to the stars. You might laugh, Yan, but someday we will.”

“Someday,” Yan said, though he wondered at Hari’s sudden pensive mood.

A massive man-like shadow erupted from the sands, not ten meters ahead. Yan started, then recognized Bej Saihan. He glanced toward Hari. Hari touched Yan’s arm with a light hand, but he had not shifted his gaze from Bej. Interesting. So Yan was not the only person unsettled by the tracker.

Bej seemed not to notice them, or he didn’t care. He tilted his head back and breathed audibly, as though tasting the air. Yan could not restrain a shudder. It was said the pemburu were Ame-no’s dogs, shaped before he made humans. They were the god’s hunters, sent to exact justice where necessary. Folk tales, Yan told himself, but it was easy to picture Bej as something primordial, mythical, a creature larger than life.

Bej snorted and trotted off into the darkness. Hari laughed softly, as though amused by something, possibly his own reaction to Bej Saihan. The thought did little to comfort Yan. He finished chewing the meat paste and took a swallow from his water bottle. “Hari, why does Che dislike me?”

Hari shook his head. “She doesn’t. She’s just … cautious.”

“Well, it’s clear she likes you.”

“We get along.” A slight pause, then, “Are things going well with you so far?”

Yan kept his voice as neutral as Hari’s. “Better than before.”

Better now that he and Meh were several thousand kilometers apart. The thought of Meh immediately brought Hari’s assistant to mind. In truth Che looked nothing like Meh. She was much taller and skinnier, and her lips thin dark lines, where Meh’s mouth curved full against her honey-brown skin. Nevertheless she and Meh both had the same quick frown, the same wary expression. It was uncanny.

He shrugged away the thought. “So what tests are you running tomorrow, Doctor Dun?”

“Dull stuff,” Hari said dryly. “We’re running several standard analysis sequences with our equipment to check the calibration. Ah, but then things get interesting. I was thinking, and Kun agrees with me, that we should do a thorough breakdown of the various trees. It would be lovely if we came across another biological treasure like the ones Anwar Enterprises discovered. What about you?”

“Water samples first,” Yan said. “Then soil samples, etc. But what really interests me are the tests Au wants to run to check for antiviral compounds…”

The conversation swung back and forth, much like their path as it skirted the tidal edge. As the sun sank behind the horizon, the breeze shifted, blowing in from the opens seas. Yan felt the day’s accumulated sweat evaporate, and he breathed more easily.

The Tau’ini Po’a Islands. Nicknamed A Thousand Pearls. Located 19 degrees 52s, 137 degrees 56w. Includes hundreds of islands ranging from tiny footprints to sizeable land masses stretching thirty or forty kilometers in length. Even the smallest shelter pockets of sea grass, while the largest ones support dense forests of shrubs and low trees.

Unlike the remote Hana-mana islands, where recent scientific expeditions uncovered the rare tikaki human subspecies, there are no known settlements in the Tau’ini Po’a Islands. Numerous stony reefs ring the island chain, and a peculiar twist in the Kailuang Current makes any approach difficult. Native tribes populate the island chains 150 kilometers to the north, but none have settled upon this world within a world.

Over the next month, Yan settled into a routine. Throughout the morning, he and Lian Luo worked in the laboratory, running tests on their samples. In the afternoon, they wrote up their results and attended meetings with the other team members to discuss the next day’s experiments. Evenings he spent in Hari’s company or alone, reading. Che remained aloof from him, but he gradually formed tentative friendships with other team members. Once or twice, Lian joined him for lunch. Six months of paradise, he thought more than once. Perhaps Hari was right.

The first morning of the second month, the rhythm broke.

“Yan, come see,” Lian Luo said, poking her head into the laboratory tent. “Something new.”

She vanished before Yan could ask anything. He hurried after, but immediately found himself engulfed in a stream of scientists and technicians and support crew. From a distance, he heard Kun Mar bawling out orders for people to keep back, dammit. Yan ducked into the forest and circled around until he came to the front of the crowd.

Kun Mar stood in the clearing next to Bej Saihan. Bej gripped the leg of a small, skinny monkey, which cowered between them.

Not a monkey. A child.

A child that was all bones and brown skin, its legs mottled with scars, its face hidden behind a snarled mass of thick black hair. Young. Maybe eight or nine, though it was hard to tell. He could just make out its eyes and mouth, stretched wide in terror. It was filthy.

“What’s going on?” Hari whispered, coming up behind Yan.

“I don’t know,” Yan whispered back.

The child cried out and launched itself away from Bej. Bej swiftly captured the child’s other arm and subdued his captive. Again, the child made a grunting, howling sound.

“It can’t talk,” Che said softly. She had appeared from nowhere, and now stood next to Hari. Yan glanced down and saw their fingertips brush each other. Ah. When had that begun?

“Back to work,” Mar said brusquely. “Come on, people. Five months isn’t forever. We are on a schedule.”

The remainder of that day was not a productive one. Distracted, Yan had to run several tests twice over, and from Lian’s grumbling, she had the same difficulties. Finally, by mid-day, Yan gave up and sought out Hari.

He found Che and Hari in the otherwise deserted biochemistry labs, talking in low undertones.

“I sent them away,” Hari said, obviously weary. “No use working today.”

He meant the child, of course.

“Where did Bej find it?” Yan asked.

Che glanced at Hari, who sighed and told Yan what he knew. Bej Saihan and his trackers decided to make a sweep of the island’s northern tip, trying to flush out any small reptiles. The trackers had just crossed over the stony ridge that divided the island, when Bej heard a noise.

“He thought it might be a snake,” Hari said, “hiding in a patch of brush near the ridge. But then the child burst from its cover. Old Bej thought he’d flushed a monkey until he caught it. Fast little thing.”

“It fell,” Che said abruptly. “It stumbled over a root, or slipped on the loose rocks. Whatever. It sprained its ankle. Now Kun is trying to decide what to do with it.”

“But what about its parents?” Yan said. “Surely—”

“Dead,” Hari said softly. “Bej found their bones.”

In spite of the heat, Yan’s skin prickled with a sudden chill. He had read about such practices among the native island tribes, who sometimes abandoned a criminal on desolate islands. Often, the children of those criminals were exiled along with their parents.

“The gods only know how the child stayed alive,” Hari went on. “There’s plenty to eat, of course. Shellfish. Roots. Those chewy tubers in the marsh—”

“They cut out its tongue,” Che said. “They mutilated a child and left it here to die. And you both talk about the poor thing as though it were a specimen.”

She pushed back her chair and stalked from the tent.

Yan made an abortive move to follow. He glanced back at Hari, who signaled for him to stay put. “Let her go. She’s upset. More than I would have thought.” He blew out a breath. “So am I, come to think of it. So am I.”

So were many others in the expedition, though the tension revealed itself in odd ways. Hari and Che quarreled about procedures. Doctor Mar and Doctor Au broke off their late night card games. Lian made excuses when Yan asked about lunch, and several technicians requested changes in sleeping quarters. The fresh-cooked food tasted off, as though spoiled by heat and the cook’s inattention.

After a second rebuff from Lian, Yan kept to himself. Once or twice he glimpsed Che in passing. Each time, her gaze flicked away from his, then a cool remote expression settled over her thin face. But she said nothing to him, only hurried on her way.

The third time their paths crossed, twilight was darkening toward night. The twin moons floated above the dark blue ocean, leeching all the color from the emerald green sands. A warm close evening, when the salt tang overpowered the scent of crushed leaves.

Che stopped and changed directions. Yan hurried forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. He felt her shudder through her thin shirt.

“What do you want?” she said.

“To say I’m sorry.”

She shifted her gaze to his hand, which had not left her shoulder. “For what?”

Yan licked his lips. “For speaking the way I did about the child Bej found.”

No answer. Just that cool remote expression. As though he himself were a vial of chemicals to analyze. Then, “I knew Meh.”

That startled him. “You did? Then you know—”

Her lips thinned. “I know how you bullied her. Oh, you did nothing wrong. Nothing outright. But I know your type. You better watch yourself, Doctor Dei. Even if Doctor Hari Dun is your friend.”

With a suddenness that took him by surprise, Che knocked away Yan’s hand and pushed him aside. Yan fell against a tree trunk. It took him only a moment to recover his footing, but Che was already far beyond him, hurrying, almost running, toward the camp’s brightly-lit center.

Just like Meh, running to a waiting taxi.

“Dammit!”

Yan smacked the tree trunk with his open palm. Damn Meh. Damn Che. What did she mean, Watch yourself? As if he had ever stopped watching every word and gesture he made. Damn the damnable stupid heat that pushed and pushed against his patience. Tenure or not, he could not last another five months in this swamp.

He slumped against the tree trunk, breathing hard. His hand throbbed. The palm stung fiercely, scraped raw by the tree trunk. He brushed away the dirt and bits of bark from his hand. It bled slightly, but it would keep until he could talk calmly with the camp physician.

Walk it out, he told himself. That always works.

He circled the camp and headed toward the beach, only to hear the sounds of laughter and cheers. Evidently, a group of the younger technicians had made a bonfire. A few were singing off-key, and Yan caught a whiff of roasted meat and wood-smoke.

With a muttered curse, he veered onto another path that led along the eastern edge of camp. Here the tents and wooden shelters were deserted, lit only by a few cool-lamp bulbs. He flicked on his pocket lantern. The soft trill of insects made a blanket of soothing noise, punctuated by the high-pitched chirp of the small frogs in the marshes.

And a soft persistent whimpering.

He paused and located the source of that whimpering—it came from one of the supply tents.

The child.

He had not seen it since that first day. After protracted arguments between Kun Mar and Bej Saihan, Mar had at last agreed to arrange for its care. “We’ve no damned anthropologists,” he’d muttered, according to Hari. “And no damned nannies.”

But that was enough for Saihan, who had cleared one of the supply tents for the child’s sleeping quarters. Away from the main laboratory tents, close enough for casual supervision.

Yan hesitated. He retraced his steps and ducked inside the supply tent, letting the flap close behind him. A sudden scrambling broke out to his left, then he heard a garbled cry. Yan lifted his lamp and shone the light over the interior.

The tent was a mess. Dirty bowls were scattered about. Three or four gray-green blankets made a nest in one corner. The whole thing smelled of sweat and filth. Then his light caught the child, who had squeezed behind a few cardboard boxes in one corner.

A girl, he thought. A little girl. He had not noticed before.

She was naked, but clean. Much cleaner than that first day, when Bej brought her into camp. Scars and bites covered her legs, her feet and hands were rough with calluses, but her eyes were like brilliant black stars. Thick glossy hair spilled over her face.

Yan crouched down. “Hello. Bej left you all alone?”

No answer. No sign she had even heard him.

“What’s the matter? Are you deaf, too?”

Odd that they left no one to supervise the child. But then, Mar didn’t want distractions, and Bej had his own duties. She was a pretty thing, Yan thought, now that they had washed her. He reached out to brush the hair away from her cheek. To his dismay, the girl flinched away from his touch.

“Hey, I’m not trying to hurt you—”

The girl launched herself away from him, but collapsed with a hoarse cry, clutching at the thick cast around her ankle. No wonder she had not run off. Yan took hold of her arm to help her up. With a quick twist of her head, the girl bit Yan’s hand. Yan gave a muffled shout and smacked her hard across the face. Again that grating cry. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Stop making so much noise.”

The little beast was weeping and snarling. Someone would surely hear. There would be questions. Yan could explain, but no one would listen. They never did. He grabbed for the girl’s arm and managed to capture one wrist, then the other. Now he had her on her back, his hand over her mouth. All the while he was muttering, “Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.”

Without warning, the girl went limp. Yan stared down at her, his chest rising in time with hers falling. His heart beating against hers. Her eyes wide and dark with terror.

Yan pushed away from the girl. “No,” he whispered. “No.”

He stumbled back to his tent, still shaking, and crawled into his cot. No one had seen. No one. Please dear gods. He had done nothing. Nothing wrong. He needed this job. Needed this second chance…

That night, he dreamed of midnight skies above still black seas.

The next morning, he woke groggy and underslept. Dreams didn’t matter, he told himself. He drank down a pot of strong tea and set to work examining a series of microbe cultures that Lian had prepared for him. When Hari dropped by for lunch, Yan waved him away. “I think I’m onto something.”

“I hope so,” Hari said cryptically.

Yan barely heard him leave. He worked through the noon hour, quitting only when the heat became unbearable. He switched off the equipment and stared through the tent’s fabric at the glaring sunlight outside. I lied, he thought. I’m not onto something. No one here is.

Progress reports from the other two research sites had arrived that morning. In spite of his absorption in his own work, Yan had heard mutterings from the other members on his team. Valuable data, said all the reports. But so far, no practical applications.

Yan rubbed the sweat from his face. Lian. Che. Hari. Mar. They had all foolishly hoped for the same success as Anwar Enterprises’s first expedition that had discovered the miraculous tikaki people and their regenerative blood. It was hope that made their disappointments even harder to bear.

He retreated to his tent and stayed there for the whole afternoon, his shirt off, with an electric fan blowing directly on his face, as he reviewed the printout of his latest tests. Odd and peculiar microbes inhabited XTI-19S137W-1A’s soil and water. He might—could—make the case that microbes here represented a separate evolutionary chain, itself a valuable discovery for the scientific world, but so far, it was all speculation. He had uncovered nothing that could turn a profit for XianGen Pharmaceuticals or its government friends. And that meant no second chance for Yan Dei.

The rest of the day vanished into a haze of frustration. That night he dreamed that enormous creatures hunted him through XTI-19S137W-1A’s scrubby forests. One in particular, a massive beast with blunt, yellow fangs, chased him along the island’s stony spine. Yan kept glancing back—he could not help himself—only to see the beast gaining on him. His foot came down on a loose rock. He slipped with a garbled cry…

…and woke covered in stinking sweat.

Yan wiped his hands over his eyes. Impossible to catch his breath in this thick air. Impossible to sleep. He got up from his cot and pulled on a pair of loose trousers. A swig of water cleared the sour taste from his mouth. He splashed more water over his face and rubbed himself all over with a wet cloth. Hot. The air as thick as mud. His heart beat erratically, as though he had run for his life.

A walk. He needed a walk.

Yan picked up his pocket lamp, shoved his feet into his shoes, and headed out of the tent. Just a walk, he told himself. He’d go upstream and sit on the rocks. Listen to the water rill past until he got sleepy again.

His path took him past the supply compound. All was dark and silent around the tent where they housed the girl. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand between the thumb and palm, where the girl had bitten him. Stupid girl. Hardly any difference between her and Meh, come to think of it. Both squalled if you looked at them the wrong way.

Yan paused, breathing heavily.

Don’t do it. Don’t think about it. Don’t—

He lifted the flap and ducked inside. The girl did not stir. Only when his hand covered her mouth did she start awake. There was a brief struggle, but Yan was stronger and bigger. “Quiet, quiet, quiet,” he murmured, though he knew she could not understand. “Be good. Be quiet.”

She went limp, and did not move as Yan unbuckled his trousers. No response as he insinuated his tongue into that emptiness that was her mouth. Only when he pushed her legs apart and forced himself inside did she fight back. The stump of flesh, all that was left of her tongue, worked against his, as though she were trying to speak.

That night Yan dreamed of the scent of crushed leaves. The rich ripe sweat on his body. His mouth on hers. Her eyes, her wide dark eyes, just a few inches from his.

“They’ve named her Ah-ne,” Hari mentioned a few days later.

He and Yan sat together on the beach, eating their mid-day meal. Yan could see the remains of the bonfire—burnt logs, discarded cups, and the blackened empty shell from an enormous sea turtle. A few clouds smudged the southern horizon, suggesting that they might have rain showers later.

“Why Ah-ne?” Yan asked.

“From the sounds she makes. It’s strange. She was a wild little creature when they caught her—and I can’t blame the poor child—but now she’s as quiet and calm as anyone would like. Just makes that grunting sound when someone comes into the tent. Ah-ne. Like that.”

Yan nodded, only half listening. He raked his hair back from his face. His skin felt sticky, even though he had just bathed, and there was a heavy cloying scent on his skin that reminded him of Ah-ne.

He had avoided the supply tent and the girl these past few days, and immersed himself in work. It was work he needed. Work to block unhappy thoughts about Meh or Lian or Che. Work to numb the temptation. To his relief, the dreams had gradually faded. That same morning, Doctor Au had spoken with Yan privately. He was impressed with Yan’s meticulous attention to detail. He was especially pleased with Yan’s dedication in the face of growing rumors about the expedition.

“We have all contributed valuable knowledge,” he said. “Especially you, Doctor Dei. If you care to join the research division at XiangGen, I would be happy to recommend your name.”

With a start, he realized that Hari had stopped talking. “Sorry,” he said. “I was thinking about next week’s experiments. Another month and I might have something to make Doctor Mar happy.”

Hari shot him a strange look. “Didn’t you hear? Kun is talking about moving our site to another island. Next week we might all be packing our equipment.”

Yan suppressed a start. “Next week? What about—”

“Your experiments? If Au agrees, take samples with you. Or start fresh with the new island. I heard Kun mention XTI-19S142W-8C. If that’s the one, he’s gambling on its isolation.”

Hari rambled on about the characteristics of their possible destination, which was unique among the Tau’ini Po’a islands. Isolated from the others, with higher, older forests according to the survey teams. Most likely, Kun would order the other ships to new islands as well.

It was for the best, Yan thought, as Hari continued to talk. Mar would release the girl back into the wild. She would return to the life she knew. He thought again of her eyes, her wide dark eyes that took in everything Yan did, and his pulse gave an uncomfortable jump. How much would she remember? Would she even recognize him again?

Within another day, Doctor Mar announced the long-expected departure to another island. Two weeks, he told the senior scientists, who reported the news to their teams. Two weeks to wrap up their experiments and pack their equipment.

Yan remembered little of those two weeks. He spent long hours cataloging their existing microbe cultures, making duplicates of his reports and Lian’s, discussing possible changes in procedure with Doctor Au. By evening, his bones had turned to water, and he dropped into his cot, exhausted. If he dreamed, he did not remember.

“Good news,” Hari said to Yan during one of their rare visits together. “Kun has undergone a heart transplant and shows signs of actual humanity. Let us hope it doesn’t ruin his abilities to manage the expedition.”

“What are you talking about?” Yan said. In spite of the long hours, and hard work, his mood was hopeful. Lian’s earlier remoteness had faded, and she had agreed to have dinner with him.

“I’m talking about Ah-ne,” Hari said. “Kun is sending her back to the mainland on the next supply ship. He thinks they might do something to restore her voice. Probably there’s a grant involved, but it’s not like him.”

Cold washed over Yan’s skin, in spite of the heat. “No, it’s not. I thought—” He broke off and managed a weak smile. “I rather thought he’d leave her behind.”

“Hmmm. He’s a practical man, not a brute. But yes, I’m surprised, too, at how much he’s willing to do for the poor thing. Perhaps Doctor Mar thinks to impress the anthropologists after all. Think what the girl could tell use about her early life.”

“Yes. Just think,” Yan said softly. Dimly he listened to Hari’s talk about major breakthroughs with voice box technology, pioneered by that same Anwar Enterprises whose success had inspired this expedition.

Ah-ne. Ah-ne talking. Not just with her eyes, but with her mouth, that soft empty mouth that now could grunt and sigh, but never shape the words for her thoughts.

Yan stood up abruptly. “Sorry, Hari. Got to lie down. Headache.”

He stumbled away, not waiting for Hari’s reply.

In his tent, he fumbled through his supply of medicines. He was not lying, he thought as he opened the bottle of aspirin with shaking hands. His head ached. His eyes throbbed in time with his pulse. Another moment and his stomach would heave up his lunch.

He swallowed the aspirin and then a double-dose of sleeping tablets, ones he had not used since Meh first left him. Two pills, not any more. He was upset, not ready to die. The sleeping pills almost stuck in his throat. He gagged and forced them down, then drank water until his stomach hurt. He lay down and closed his eyes, waiting for oblivion.

…moonlight flickering between the branches of swaying palm trees. A pack of dogs chased after him, their tongues licking the air, as though tasting his scent. All of them were huge—Ame-no’s hunting dogs, the pemburu. He recognized them from old paintings, from carvings on temple walls, from his nightmares of two weeks past…

He woke to full night. A hum from the insects drifted through the air. Yan stood, shaky from hunger. More water helped to revive him, but his stomach still felt pinched, and his skin itched. Images from his nightmare flickered through his brain, and merged with yesterday’s memories.

Ah-ne. Ah-ne talking. Ah-ne speaking her memories.

He was halfway to the supply tent without even knowing what he intended to do. Talk to her. Try to persuade her. She had to understand how he had not meant to hurt her. Not that way. He found himself muttering, hush, hush, hush, as he crawled inside and fastened the flap shut so that no one could see. Ah-ne lay curled into a tight ball, hands laid together beneath her cheek.

Yan touched the girl’s shoulder. “Ah-ne.”

She woke with a start and scrabbled away from him, making panicked grunting sounds. Yan caught her by the arm. “No, Ah-ne. That’s not why I came here. I came…”

How to explain?

“I came,” he started over, “to ask you something.”

Ah-ne struggled against his grip. She was breathing hard, making that soft grunting sound. Ah. Eh. Ah. Eh. No sign that she understood. How could she? Had she ever learned to speak before her people cut out her tongue? Maybe—

No, he could not depend on that.

“I can’t talk here,” he muttered. “Come with me.”

He bundled her from the tent and hauled her to her feet. Her ankle had healed enough that she could stand, though she limped slightly as Yan dragged her away from the campsite. She tried to bite his hands. He gave her a hard shake and a slap. “Be quiet.”

She went limp a moment. Thereafter, she stumbled after him, silent except for her labored breathing.

A short distance from the camp’s edge, Yan plunged into the forest and aimed for the marshes. No one kept any watch, but couples sometimes prowled about, looking for privacy. He wanted no unexpected encounters with other members of the expedition.

For a while, the going was difficult. Once he passed the crisscrossing paths made by the expedition, he had to fight his way through the thorn bushes. The air was unusually close, here among the trees, filled with a musky scent from the leaves. Moonlight flickered through the branches, reminding him uncomfortably of his dreams, but he pressed on.

Gradually the trees thinned to an open patch of rough grass by the edge of the marshes. Yan stopped and knelt before Ah-ne. The girl’s face was wet with tears, he realized with a start.

“Ah-ne,” he said softly.

She stared at him, lips pushed out. Watching. He could feel her watching. Feel the tension in her skinny arms.

He tried again. “Ah-ne. They will take you away. Make you talk. They might … they might ask you questions.”

He closed his eyes. Who was he fooling? He could not make her understand. Could not until she learned their language and for that she needed her tongue. And if she had her tongue—

Without warning, Ah-ne wrenched away. Taken by surprise, Yan almost lost his grip on her. He yanked her back around. She spat in his face.

A wave of red swept over his vision. He pushed Ah-ne to the ground and fell atop her. Ah-ne tried to twist away, but Yan captured her fists and crushed his mouth against hers to silence her grunts. Still thrashing, the girl whipped her head around and caught Yan hard on his temple. Stunned, he collapsed to one side. The next moment, Ah-ne had wriggled free and was on her feet, running.

“Ah-ne.” Yan lurched upright and immediately stumbled over a root. Damn, damn, damn. She would run to camp. Kun Mar would find out. He’d dismiss Yan from the expedition. Au would withdraw his offer and notify the University.

Then, above the pounding of his heart, Yan heard a splashing sound, then a soft thudding as Ah-ne gained firm ground. She was heading for the ridge, where Bej Saihan had discovered her.

He ran a few steps. Stopped.

A girl. A savage beast-girl like that. She could disappear into the wild. She had lived there her entire life after all. And this time, she might know to avoid the trackers. Even trackers like Bej Saihan, whatever his background.

With a last glance toward the ridge, Yan started back to his tent.

*

“No sign of her?” Yan said.

A weary Bej Saihan stumped back into the campsite. “None.” He took off his hat and wiped his face, looking entirely human, and not at all like a creature of the gods. “We checked the valley. We checked all the ravines in the area. We even dredged the marshes, just in case. Nothing.”

More search teams returned throughout the morning, but already the expedition members had turned their attention from Ah-ne’s disappearance to the final preparations for departure. Stacks of crates awaited transport to the ship. A crew dismantled the remaining tents. The settlement had vanished, leaving a bare clearing and scattered trash heaps. Yan had packed up the last of his own belongings, and now oversaw the transfer of the lab equipment onto the ship.

Only when he was about to board the ship did Hari return with Che at his side.

You could tell he was more disappointed than Bej himself, Yan thought, taking in the man’s stained shirt, his mud-caked boots, and the dark bruises beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Yan said softly.

Hari shook his head. “We tried. She wanted to go.”

Che took Hari’s hand. “Come,” she said softly. “We all have work to do.”

Hari smiled at her wearily. “That we do.”

Yan watched as the two walked through the empty site toward the ship. Briefly he wondered when things had changed between them. Then he turned to his own chores. Che was right. They all had work to do. And Lian would need help with storing and labeling the last of their samples.

Within the hour, the last crates were aboard, the last transport skiffs hauled up. The ship’s motors chugged to life, the solar sails expanded to catch the sun, and the ship slowly backed away from the shallow bay. Yan leaned against the rail, watching the island shrink slowly to a small point on the horizon.

In five or six days, they would arrive at the new island. More work lay ahead—it would almost be like starting over—but Yan didn’t mind. A new island meant a new chance. Who knows, perhaps it was best that Meh had left him. He should forget about her entirely and concentrate on someone new. Someone like Lian, who seemed to appreciate him better.

The winds shifted and blew hard against his face. He drew a deep lungful of the cool salt-laden air. Already he could breathe more easily.