Migration: Species Imperative #2 by Julie E. Czerneda

Author:Julie E. Czerneda
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Canadian, Space Opera, Fiction, Science fiction, Human-alien encounters, Adventure, Life on other planets, Women biologists, General
ISBN: 9780756402600
Publisher: Daw Books
Published: 2005-05-03T01:11:52.183000+00:00

Despite her good intentions, which included regaining her strength as quickly as possible, supper was wasted on Mac. Her stomach rebelled the instant the steaming platters arrived—brought by courteous staff of some humanoid-type species she didn’t know, clad in pale yellow uniforms. They set it out on the table on the terrace, where Mac spent the meal watching enviously as Mudge ate his portion, then accepted most of hers.

“Splendid,” he informed her when done, wiping his lips and sipping the last of his wine. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else?”

Mac assessed the status of the few spoonfuls of soup she’d forced down. Uncertain. “Quite sure.” She gazed into the distance, estimating there wasn’t much time until full sunset. The view was of water, with perhaps the hint of islands on the horizon. She’d taken a quick dizzying look over the rail to confirm they were on land. A great granite cliff, to be exact, sheer enough that incoming waves struck and rose in gouts of foam. She’d have to check the tides. This building was a white curved tower, four stories high as Humans measured, the curve another s-bend like the mirror, following the edge of the cliff. These rooms were on what Mac estimated was the third floor, though she assumed the building extended below ground, into the rock itself.

She was no closer to knowing what to do about Mudge, Mac admitted to herself. Nik might help, but she’d have to wait for him to contact her. His people had brought them here, presumably willingly, so he either knew where she was, or would find out. Didn’t mean she’d hear from him anytime soon.

Or at all.

“What do you know about the consulate—this place?” Mac asked Mudge, not hopeful.

He surprised her. “I applied for a job here once, so I made sure I was pretty familiar with it.”

“Let me guess,” she smiled. “Shuttle pilot.”

“I was young, Norcoast. Alien worlds sounded more interesting. What I know isn’t up-to-date, though.”

“Tell me about it. Anything,” Mac pressed. She’d learned to value knowing her surroundings.

According to Mudge, who tended to describe things with as many numbers as possible, the consulate occupied a stretch of coast five kilometers long and three wide, along the southwestern edge of New Zealand’s South Island, occupying the tip of one of many fjords that fingered the Tasman Sea. No roads or walking trails led here. The only docking facilities were for consular traffic, and those only by air. The complex itself had grown over time into a sprawl of connected buildings, a few Human-built, most contributed by those handful of species interested in a more substantial presence on Earth, the rest being the original constructions of the Sinzi themselves.

The nearest Human habitation was the town of Te Anau, the hub for those seeking the vast wilderness preserved along the coast, the Te Whāipounamu. Accustomed to tourists tramping through in all seasons, few residents took much notice of the consulate or its visitors. In fact, local New Zealanders were

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