Silent Dances (Starbridge #2)
Kathleen O'Malley
A. C. Crispin
Acknowledgments
Silent Dances had many midwives attending its parturition and delivery, all
of whom deserve thanks. This is only a partial list:
My collaborator, A.C. Crispin-our long-standing friend ship was only
enhanced by our partnership in writing this book, Ann. Thanks for believing
in me and keeping me on course.
My friend, cowriter, editor, proofreader, partner, and com puter consultant
Anne Moroz-who became, during the final stages of this book, chief cook,
bottle-washer, landscaper, and animal caretaker. Now, you can finish your
own book!
For their continuing support and encouragement through the years and
especially with this project, I'd like to thank my mother, Evelyn Benecke, my
father, Al Benecke, my brother, Alfred Benecke, and Teresa Bigbee and her
family, who've been more than a family to me.
My friend Holley Stepp made significant contributions to
Silent Dances, as did the many Deaf students and sign language
teachers and interpreters at Gallaudet University, and else whe re. You
introduced me to the fascinating world of Deaf
v
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vi ACKNOWLEDGMENTS cultu re and helped shape the characters an d events of this book. I hope you will be as happy with it as I am.
I want to thank my readers and critics Debby Marshall, Martha Midgett, and
J. M. Dillard. Your insights and encour agement were invaluable. A big hug
and lots of thanks to golubchik Jeanne Dillard, for extra help with foreign
names and phrases and long - dist an ce pep talks.
For help with the scientific and technical aspects of this book I have to thank
Drs. Josh Dein, Glenn Olsen, George Gee, and Mr. Roddy Gabel of the
Patuxent Wildlife Research Center for their continuing interest, advice, and
support. Special thanks go to Dr. David Ellis of the PWRC, for his invaluable
infor mation on raptor behavior and prehistoric avians; to Dr. Hodos of the
University of Maryland for his help in avian opthal mology; and Dr. Yoji
Kondo of NASA for his ability to set the universe right. Special thanks must
also go to Dr. James W. Carpenter whose interest in this project never
wavered and whose constant nudging pushed this project along in its
earliest days. (It's finished, Dr. C., it's really finished!)
To the many characters at the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center-animal
caretakers, wildlife technicians, veterinary technicians , and biologists-with
whom I've had the pleasure to work with over these past years and who
helped fill these pages with insight, humor, and personality-you know who
you are. Thanks, guys, and I ' ll be in on time on Monday!
To Harlan Ellison, for all his kindness through the years. I did what you said,
Harlan . I wrote what I know.
And, most important, though they will never read this, or even know of it, I
must thank the whooping cranes of the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center-
especially the individuals that have meant the most to me: Canus, Lazarus,
Faith, Jack, and Blue 52. Without their beauty, their strong personalities, and
the haunting power of their call, this world would be an empty place.
Anyone interested in lea rn ing more about cranes, one of the most
endangered families of birds in the world, can write to the U. S. Fish and
Wildlife Service, Washington, D. C., or to the Inte rn ational Crane
Foundation, E-11376 Shady Lane Road, Baraboo, Wisconsin, 53913.
-Kathleen O'Malley, December 1989
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This book is lovingly dedicated to the person who inspired me to write
by entertaining me for hours with her own tales my mother, Evelyn
Benecke.
You bought me my first typewriter, Mom, and my first word processor.
I only hope that someday
I'll be as good a storytell er as you.
-K. O'Malley
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SItENTDANffS
xi
1
Prologue
Scott Hedford opened his eyes and checked the time. Fifteen minutes to
daybreak. He called to his partner and grabbed for his clothes. He couldn' t
miss sun ri se!
A yellow sun stood at the heart of this crowded solar system that included a
monstrous gas giant planet four times the size of Jupiter, plus a red dwarf
star in its outermost reaches. From the surface of the living world the
humans called Trinity, the giant planet and the red dwarf shone so brilliantly
they were visible even in full daylight. The astronomical configurations of
what appeared to be three suns had, for centuries, shaped the beliefs of the
planet's people and, Scott knew, today was of special importance. The three
" suns" would rise in a tri angle . Scott couldn't miss sunrise today.
His partner, Margaritka Tretiak, scrambled around just as eagerly. The gray-
haired xenobiologist was almost seventy, but could outrun him, outclimb
him, and, in the rush to see sunrise, outdress him. She was already out of
their shelter while he was still hopping around on one foot pulling on his
other boot.
Silently they left their spacious shelter and walked the
2
hundred meters to the end of the overhanging bluff. There was litt le
evidence of l as t night ' s fierce elect ri cal storm . Camped on this small hill, they had an excellent view of the freshwater wetlands extending to
the ho ri zon.
At the cliff edge, the biologists viewed the expansive marsh . The
vegetation w as a collage of b ri lliant Ea rt hautumn hues, colors T ri nity kept year-round . The wildlife and native people were all still
sleeping . Usually, none of them woke until all the suns were well up.
The red dwarf peeped over the western ho ri zon, since T ri nity rotated opposite to the direction that Ea rt h did. The huge , white, cranelike people the humans called the Grus could be seen sleeping in scattered
groups either in the water or on the small islands they built out of
rushes and grass , their black-beaked heads tucked beneath their
winglike arms . The Grus were beautiful to watch , especially when they danced.
The second sun, the yellow star the Grus called the " Father Sun," rose to the ri ght of the apex star . The sky faded from dark blue - black to a startling lavender. Soon it would be an intense blue . Sco tt stared , not with the cool detachment of a biologist , but with the unabashed
wonder of a tou ri st.
The man start ed as a rousette whistled in sh ri ll wa rn ing. What ' s he scared of at this hour ? Sco tt wondered , glancing une as ily around . The re d , fox-sized flying mammal should be sleeping in its burrow.
The call came again, piercing , ter ri fied. The third "sun," the gas giant planet that appeared as a small , brilliant star, w as now visible , but Scott barely noticed.
Something' s wrong , Sco tt thought , just as a monstrous winged shadow sailed over the humans - a shadow that w as bound to wake
the sensitive Grus at an y moment . And when they woke ...
&n
bsp; "My God!" Meg gasped.
It's an Aquila! Sco tt realized . What's it doing here, why is it flying now?
The biologist fumbled at his belt where his sound nul ifier should have been,
but it wasn ' t there. Meg doesn't have hers, either , he remembered with a stab of dismay . I was working on them last night - I left them on the workbench!
With a muttered curse he grabbed Meg's arm. "Never mind the Aquila! The
nullifiers are in the shelter on the workbench. We've got to have them!
Run!"
3
SILENT DANCES 3 They began sprinting toward the shelter, Meg quickly
out
distancing the younger man. The Aquila circled closer to the Grus' village.
Then Scott saw another, and another, high in the atmosphere, winging in
from their dark forests to the west. With their bronze-colored bodies and
contrasting gold heads and tails, the Aquila bore an uncanny resemblance
to the eagles that had once been the symbol of an OldAm nation.
The big predators' sudden, unusual behavior made Scott wonder again
whether they might be intelligent. The Grus claimed that the Aquila were
nothing more than savage predators, their enemies. But why would the
Aquila use the extra energy for flap-flying when they could wait until later in
the day and glide on the thermals as they usually did? Were they just flying
by on their way to distant hunting grounds, or were they deliberately trying to
surprise the Grus before they woke? And why were these normally solitary
hunters suddenly mass ing in such numbers?
Hoping he was wrong, that the Aquila wouldn't breach the invisible
boundary that would cause the Grus sentries to sound an alarm, Scott
wished now that he'd had more time to study the films from his hidden
cameras.
Ten strides ahead of him, Meg dived into the shelter.
He'd just reached the door when she burst back out, the nullifiers in her
hands. "Put it on! Cover your ears!" he yelled-then the preliminary humming
shook his entire body. Oh, God, no! He clapped his palms over his ears.
The sound shattered the still morning air, ripping through him like a physical
blow. Again and again the cry rang out as the sentries sent their warning to
the flock.
The frequency and volume of that call struck the humans' unshielded ears,
doubling them over with pain. The tiny, delicate headpieces went flying from
Meg's hands as she fell forward. Both humans' eardrums burst and the pain
of those alien voices drove Scott to his knees in agony.
Lucky Meg, he thought, seeing that his friend lay unconscious. Retching,
hands shaking, he scrabbled frantically through the dense rust-colored
ground cover that had swallowed the dropped nullifiers. He grabbed one
headpiece, but it was cracked-useless, he thought despairingly. Where's the
other? Oh, God, the pain ... He was crawling now, facing the end of the bluff
and the still beautiful sunrise, now forgotten. Despite his suffering, he forced
himself to search.
4
As his fingers fumbled over the precious instrument, the gig an tic , terrifying shape of an Aquila came winging up over the bluff. The enormous bird
loomed before him, its ruby-red eyes staring straight at Scott, its great wings
straining for altitude- its talons gripping a struggling young Grus.
The white avian met the biologist's eyes. Recognition stabbed through Scott,
almost eclipsing his physical pain. NO! his mind screamed. Not my friend-
not Water Dancer! The golden eyes of the avian were dimming, and in
desperation, he threw back his head, voicing a dying call to his people.
The sound tore through Scott's body, making him jerk like a puppet whose
strings had been yanked. He fell across the ground, arms askew, the nullifier
pinned beneath him. Rivulets of blood flowed from his ears.
5
"What is man without the beasts?
If all the beasts were gone , men would die from a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beas ts soon happens to man."
Chief Seattle 1854
CHAPTER I
The Choice
Rob Gable looked up from the clutter on his desk, startled yet relieved. A tall,
dark woman was storming into his office, fuming, her anger and frustration
barely held in check.
Boy, she's pissed! Rob thought as she came around the desk toward him,
barking her shin in the process. That stopped her, and blinking from the pain,
she rubbed her abused leg.
"Tesa, where've you been?" he began tentatively in her language . "I looked for you everywhere." The slightly built, dark-haired psychologist moved
around his desk to diminish the height advantage she had over him. "I
wanted to find you before the ceremony, but I was in meetings up to the last
minute . When I finally got to the Arena, there was too much of a mob. "
"What happened, Dr. Rob? Why wasn't I tapped?" Her hands moved almost
too quickly for him to follow the subtleties of her complex language,
American Sign Language. ASL had its own grammar structure, but Rob
couldn't help translating it into English, the language he'd grown up with.
"The other students were tapped on schedule. Why didn't you tell me mine
was canceled?"
6
Rob looked at her startling, pale hazel eyes - large, almond - shaped eyes that seemed almost golden . Staring at them, you could almost miss her
high cheekbones , strong jaw, an d b ri lli an t white teeth set against smooth brown skin . The young Native Ame ri c an wom an towered over Rob at 1.85 meters . ( Six foot one , Tesa insisted , since Old NorthAm had never fully accepted met ri c .) At nineteen, Tesa ' s broad face and hawkish nose couldn't be conside re d be autiful , but once you saw those eyes you'd never think about that . Having watched her
grow from a gangly fou rt een-year - old, Rob was sor ry he wouldn ' t be around to see her figu re out what she could do with those eyes.
Holding up his hands placatingly, the doctor motioned for her to take a
seat . She drew herself up, declining the offer. Clothed in the dress
version of StarB ri dge Academy's uniform, Tesa had offset its classic
pants an d jacket with a quillworked leather pouch on her waist an d
three white-tipped eagle feathers tied into her long, wavy black hair .
Richly hued turquoise brought out the warm highlights of her skin . The
effect of the new and old lent her an aura of wildness.
Should I have paged her? Rob wondered. Made an announcement that every one but she could hear ? He still felt selfconscious about her
deafness. "I sent a message to your voder ," he told her, his signs much slower th an hers . " Didn't you see it?"
She seemed to deflate as she dug around in her pouch for the small
translator most human students kept on their wrists. When she finally ret
ri eved it, its tiny red telltale was shining.
Tesa looked ruefully at its message. " Well, I should've be en wearing it ."
She looked at Rob , disgusted, an d settled into a chair . " But that still doesn ' t explain why I wasn ' t tapped."
Explain, he thought , w an ting to gro an . Where do I start? Tesa was one of StarBri dge ' s older human students . Bicultural and multilingual , she'd grown up on the plains of Old NorthAm in the multitribal "living
museum " that sprawled across millions of acres of parkland and
wildlife prese rv e. Before
she'd been recruited for StarBridge , Tesa had vacillated be tween be coming a Native Ame ri c an histo rian or a linguist, an inte re st she'd discovered when she went east to study at
Gallaudet.
This well - known educational center for the deaf and hearing - impaired had expanded over the centu ri es until it had
7
SILENT DANCES 7 become a small town , a cultural cornerstone for
people who did not consider themselves deaf, but Deaf. It was at Gallaudet
that Tesa had discovered her natural aptitude for languages, a talent that had brought her to the Academy at StarBridge.
"What about my pair project with the Ashu Mizari?" Tesa signed , looking more dejected now than angry. "Don't tell me all my work's been for
nothing."
The tapping and the pair project were the culmination of a StarB ri dge
student' s training . Each student would learn his or her alien partner' s
language and culture , and in tu rn teach the other theirs, while completing a special project that required each partner's cooperative abilities . Tesa had been trained to be teamed with one of the reptilian, multitentacled
Mizari, eldest and founding members of the Cooperative League of
Systems.
Rob plopped wearily into his chair. "The Ashu are very disappointed, Tesa,
believe me."
The Ashu, a sea -dwelling race of Mizari, who lived off an island continent
on Shassiszss, their homeworld, had only vestigial auditory organs, and
communicated with an elaborate sign language . Tesa was to have been
paired with one of them and travel to Shassiszss. Now all those careful
plans were shot.
Rob sighed. "I've got lots to tell you, so be patient." Bast, Rob's small black cat, chose that minute to leap into Tesa's lap, and the young woman gave
her a friendly embrace.
"Okay." Now that the moment had come, Rob could barely suppress his
excitement. "A doctor on Earth has perfected an electronic nerve relay. She
says she can give you hearing."
"That's why you canceled my tapping and my pair project on Sh as
siszss ?" Tesa was plainly surprised-and irritated. She wasn't the only one.
Rob's eyes widened as he signed,
"You don't think that's important?"
"No!" She shook her head angrily. "I've spent two months preparing for this project. That's what I was looking forward to. Not a one-way ticket back to
Earth to become hearing. How's that supposed to help me with the Ashu?"