The Garden - Melissa Scott [81]
I know that. Paris suppressed the words, said, "Acknowledged. Paris out."
He stood for an instant, getting a grip on his anger-an anger only increased by the certain knowl-
edge that a good part of it was guilt-then put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Old-fashioned, low-tech, and effective, he added silently, as heads turned all across the field, and he raised a hand to wave them over to him. The robots' movements stilled-Grayrose had given each of them a controller for one of the machines-and the dots of color began moving closer. Renehan was the first to reach the little clearing, but Grayrose and the other humans weren't far behind.
"What's up, Tom?" Renehan asked, and one of the others, a gangly ensign named Laek who had proved himself an expert at the remote controls, echoed her.
"Word from the ship," Paris answered, and raised his voice to be heard by the others. "Andirrim ships have entered the system-they say they've come to trade, but the captain wants us ready for trouble."
Grayrose's wings rose and fell with a crack of displaced air, and several of the humans jumped at the sharp sound. "How many ships?" Grayrose asked, and Paris collected his straying thoughts.
"Five of them, Chakotay said. Does it make a difference?"
Grayrose shook her head, another gesture she had copied from the humans. "Probably not. Even when they come to trade, now, they come in force, just in case they find something unguarded."
A dozen questions trembled on Paris's tongue, but he knew his first duty was to get the food on board. "Right. The captain wants the stores we've collected beamed back to the ship now-to get as much as possible on board, just in case there's a problem. How're we doing?"
The rest of the team exchanged glances, and then Laek shrugged. "All right, I guess. My sled's just about full."
Two of the others nodded with him, and Renehan said, "Mine's full, but I could fit more into it."
Paris repressed another pointless glance at the empty sky. "How long to fill yours, Laek?"
"Twenty, maybe thirty minutes."
Paris glanced back at his own sled, nearly full itself. Thirty minutes more would let him cut the last section of this field, maybe even make a start on harvesting the silverine orchard that was next on their list, and thirty minutes shouldn't make that much difference to the Andirrim approach. "Right," he said aloud, "Rennie, finish filling your sled and then take the robot over to the orchard, get what you can out of there. The rest of you, finish your sections of the field, and then contact me. Let's get as much up to the ship as we possibly can."
"Right," Renehan said, briskly, and the others echoed her. Paris reached for his own control box, ready to set the robot moving again, but Grayrose laid a hand on his arm.
"Five ships?"
"That's what our first officer said."
"Did he name the commander?"
Paris shook his head. "Does it matter?"
"It could make a difference," the Kirse answered. "Paris-Tom. Even if they mean to trade, they may be dangerous."
"Thanks," Paris said, and knew he sounded less than gracious. To his surprise, however, Grayrose ignored him, her face blank, eyes focused in the middle distance. Paris frowned, and then she blinked, smiled, and was present again.
"Are you all right?" Paris asked.
"Of course. Why?"
Because you looked like- He stopped there, not sure what he should answer. / don't know what you
looked like, but I don't think you were here for that instant. And that makes no sense at all. He shook his head. "Nothing, no reason."
"If you'll give me that," Grayrose said, and nodded to the control box, "I can probably get it done faster."
It was true, too, but nonetheless humbling. Still, Paris thought, that's one thing I've learned in my checkered career pride's irrelevant when food is the issue. He held out the box, and the Kirse took it, long fingers curling expertly around the controls. It had been