The Silka
Chapter Eight
McGee got himself a drink, ignoring Zaf, who raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting an update on what was going on down on the planet. He took his drink and the bottle and marched off to his own rooms.
He nearly dropped the drink when he turned from closing the hatch to find someone was in there waiting for him. Granted he'd had Ther'lin contact them, but this quick a response was unprecedented.
The creature seemed to radiate amusement at his reaction. "You rang?"
"Are you surprised?" McGee asked, settling in a chair opposite him.
"Surprised with regard to what?" the creature asked, its skin rippling through a spectrum of colors for a moment before settling into a colour more or less human. His eyes were huge and a brilliant violet and he aimed them squarely at McGee.
"That I rang." McGee said. "The Silka are dying."
"We did note a disturbance in the force." The First Ones had horrible sense's of humor. At least this one did. "You seem to be working to correct it. Have you no confidence in your current plan?"
"I don't have a current plan," McGee snapped, swallowing half his drink. "What I've got is the Siolastre and her mate on my hands, while they're dying and the fate of dragons hangs in the balance. Needless to say I'm a tad tense and in need of direction from on high."
"And I suppose a simple, well done keep on won't do for you?" the being asked, creating himself a drink in the meantime. "I do like your scotch. Very pleasant amongst the neurons."
"Glad I could help," McGee said. "Am I to infer from the foregoing that you feel all is going according to plan, nothing to worry about and all that sort of thing?"
"No, definitely not going to plan," the being replied. "But, even if hope isn't a plan, I've got it. You have any brilliant ideas? I'm all, what's the expression, ears."
"Save the Silka? Then get the dragons back on the top of the Siolastre's agenda, so they can solve that puzzle and move on to the ones we really need their help with?" McGee offered the plan with an insouciance that matched his guest's.
The being sighed. "Save the Silka. Yes, now there's a good idea. Why haven't I thought of that!"
"It's the scotch mucking around with the neurons," McGee said. "Want some more?" he asked, offering the bottle.
"Why not," the being said, holding out his glass for a refill. "You'll have to, I don't know, erase their brains or something when this is over."
"Whose brains? The Siolastre's and her mate? If so you can handle that little chore. I'm not going near it."
"Why not?" the being asked, sipping his scotch. "Although we'll have to convince the dragons to forget this too."
"Why? And why do the Siolastre's need to forget it?"
"He's far too good at putting pieces together. What happens if he realizes what we're doing, hmmm?"
McGee snorted. "Just what are we doing? I'm not sure I know anymore. You know someone had a long chat with both of them in the cavern on Tyvek don't you?"
"Who?" the First One asked sharply.
"How do I know? But obviously someone doesn't care if they know what's really going on," McGee said. "Whoever it was was rather explicit about the dragons and the whole set up, including my watching brief."
"I really hate it when that happens. Obviously we need better, what do you call it, intelligence. So, .. Well, we should just let this go on then, I expect, and I'll check with Central."
"Are you saying there's more than one faction at work here? Not just the Star Lords, but among your lot, the First Ones?"
"Well, let us say that some of us are more trusting than others. I'm of the more conservative lot. Especially where Marc is concerned."
"He came as a surprise to me. But then so did she." McGee finished his drink, staring morosely out the observation window. "It's nice, ya know, never having to worry about peeping toms, never having to close the drapes."
"Excuse me?" the being asked.
McGee waved to the observation window. "Who's going to be looking in? A pity really, when all I can ever do is look out."
The being sat back a bit more comfortably. "You regret your calling," he said.
"No," he said softly. "And I've finally met someone who's almost as old as I am and who knows how to spell loneliness the way I do. He's found someone to look in."
"Ah, you desire a mate. We have asked too much of you, Jack McGee."
"Have you?" McGee asked, turning haunted eyes on him. "Hard to say really, since I've never known anything else."
"Yes, I do understand that. Even so. Have you no friends?"
"Over the years there have been many. And an equal number have died." McGee turned back to the observation window. "Which is perhaps why I'll have no part in wiping their memories or those of the dragons."
"But now you've found a whole society of people who live long and prosper. Marc might make you a good friend."
"You really are a first class bastard, aren't you?" McGee said, his tone friendly. "Tell me what's killing the Silka."
"A design flaw. The Rift energies are going into a feedback loop. At least that's the theory. We aren't sure how to fix it, or if it can be fixed."
"So it's not the Star Lords? You know there are two Cephei whose cloaking Ther'lin can penetrate, nor can Aaru inside the Rift? And who refuse to acknowledge them."
The being nodded. "Yes. And we do wonder if somehow they are amplifying the effect. But nonetheless, it was a design flaw."
"We would like you and Zaf to see if you can identify the species in those ships. It would assist us greatly to know who has taken such a step."
"If the Silka stay away from the Rift will they stop getting sick?" McGee asked, making a gesture of agreement to the request.
"It would slow the process down. I am not sure if it would reverse it." The being paused for a moment then added, "The metaconcert that Marc Siolastre created... It was noticed. Far and wide. I do not think we have long to either strengthen the Rift wall or accept that we must dissolve it."
"And then there is the child," McGee said. "And what he will become."
"Yes," the being replied and dissolved away.
He nearly dropped the drink when he turned from closing the hatch to find someone was in there waiting for him. Granted he'd had Ther'lin contact them, but this quick a response was unprecedented.
The creature seemed to radiate amusement at his reaction. "You rang?"
"Are you surprised?" McGee asked, settling in a chair opposite him.
"Surprised with regard to what?" the creature asked, its skin rippling through a spectrum of colors for a moment before settling into a colour more or less human. His eyes were huge and a brilliant violet and he aimed them squarely at McGee.
"That I rang." McGee said. "The Silka are dying."
"We did note a disturbance in the force." The First Ones had horrible sense's of humor. At least this one did. "You seem to be working to correct it. Have you no confidence in your current plan?"
"I don't have a current plan," McGee snapped, swallowing half his drink. "What I've got is the Siolastre and her mate on my hands, while they're dying and the fate of dragons hangs in the balance. Needless to say I'm a tad tense and in need of direction from on high."
"And I suppose a simple, well done keep on won't do for you?" the being asked, creating himself a drink in the meantime. "I do like your scotch. Very pleasant amongst the neurons."
"Glad I could help," McGee said. "Am I to infer from the foregoing that you feel all is going according to plan, nothing to worry about and all that sort of thing?"
"No, definitely not going to plan," the being replied. "But, even if hope isn't a plan, I've got it. You have any brilliant ideas? I'm all, what's the expression, ears."
"Save the Silka? Then get the dragons back on the top of the Siolastre's agenda, so they can solve that puzzle and move on to the ones we really need their help with?" McGee offered the plan with an insouciance that matched his guest's.
The being sighed. "Save the Silka. Yes, now there's a good idea. Why haven't I thought of that!"
"It's the scotch mucking around with the neurons," McGee said. "Want some more?" he asked, offering the bottle.
"Why not," the being said, holding out his glass for a refill. "You'll have to, I don't know, erase their brains or something when this is over."
"Whose brains? The Siolastre's and her mate? If so you can handle that little chore. I'm not going near it."
"Why not?" the being asked, sipping his scotch. "Although we'll have to convince the dragons to forget this too."
"Why? And why do the Siolastre's need to forget it?"
"He's far too good at putting pieces together. What happens if he realizes what we're doing, hmmm?"
McGee snorted. "Just what are we doing? I'm not sure I know anymore. You know someone had a long chat with both of them in the cavern on Tyvek don't you?"
"Who?" the First One asked sharply.
"How do I know? But obviously someone doesn't care if they know what's really going on," McGee said. "Whoever it was was rather explicit about the dragons and the whole set up, including my watching brief."
"I really hate it when that happens. Obviously we need better, what do you call it, intelligence. So, .. Well, we should just let this go on then, I expect, and I'll check with Central."
"Are you saying there's more than one faction at work here? Not just the Star Lords, but among your lot, the First Ones?"
"Well, let us say that some of us are more trusting than others. I'm of the more conservative lot. Especially where Marc is concerned."
"He came as a surprise to me. But then so did she." McGee finished his drink, staring morosely out the observation window. "It's nice, ya know, never having to worry about peeping toms, never having to close the drapes."
"Excuse me?" the being asked.
McGee waved to the observation window. "Who's going to be looking in? A pity really, when all I can ever do is look out."
The being sat back a bit more comfortably. "You regret your calling," he said.
"No," he said softly. "And I've finally met someone who's almost as old as I am and who knows how to spell loneliness the way I do. He's found someone to look in."
"Ah, you desire a mate. We have asked too much of you, Jack McGee."
"Have you?" McGee asked, turning haunted eyes on him. "Hard to say really, since I've never known anything else."
"Yes, I do understand that. Even so. Have you no friends?"
"Over the years there have been many. And an equal number have died." McGee turned back to the observation window. "Which is perhaps why I'll have no part in wiping their memories or those of the dragons."
"But now you've found a whole society of people who live long and prosper. Marc might make you a good friend."
"You really are a first class bastard, aren't you?" McGee said, his tone friendly. "Tell me what's killing the Silka."
"A design flaw. The Rift energies are going into a feedback loop. At least that's the theory. We aren't sure how to fix it, or if it can be fixed."
"So it's not the Star Lords? You know there are two Cephei whose cloaking Ther'lin can penetrate, nor can Aaru inside the Rift? And who refuse to acknowledge them."
The being nodded. "Yes. And we do wonder if somehow they are amplifying the effect. But nonetheless, it was a design flaw."
"We would like you and Zaf to see if you can identify the species in those ships. It would assist us greatly to know who has taken such a step."
"If the Silka stay away from the Rift will they stop getting sick?" McGee asked, making a gesture of agreement to the request.
"It would slow the process down. I am not sure if it would reverse it." The being paused for a moment then added, "The metaconcert that Marc Siolastre created... It was noticed. Far and wide. I do not think we have long to either strengthen the Rift wall or accept that we must dissolve it."
"And then there is the child," McGee said. "And what he will become."
"Yes," the being replied and dissolved away.
