Beyond Infinity by Gregory Benford Page B

worked, she knew this was helping her. Better to act, not think.
    Finally, they stood looking down into a broad valley—tired, job done, planning where to go next.
    “I trust you are all right,” a deep voice said behind them.
    Cley whirled. Seeker was already dashing with liquid grace among the nearby trees. A tall, blocky man stood on the outer deck of a brass-colored craft that balanced silently in the air.
    He had come upon them from behind without even Seeker noticing, and this, more than his size and the silent power of his craft, told Cley that she had no chance of getting away. Blinking against the sun glare, she saw that this was a Supra.
    Another. It all came rushing up into her again, the smothered pain. Kurani.
    And she put it away. There would be a time to feel it, and that time was not now. The longing and passion had been part of becoming a young woman, a time she would treasure. Wondrous. That was over, and she knew with a leaden suddenness that it would not come again. She could not let it.
    And this Supra—why did he survive? When my love died?
    Her head spun with wild emotions. She hated this Supra; she needed him; she wanted him to fold her in his long arms and take away the anguish.
    Then she made herself put all that away, as well. Concentrate, the way Kurani did. See what is before you.
    He carried all the advanced signatures: big glossy eyes; scalloped ears that could turn to capture sound; enlarged trachea to help food bypass the windpipe better. Forward-tilted upper torso, lessening pressure on the spine. Backward-curved neck with bigger vertebrae, counterbalancing the close-ribbed chest. His casual amble along the deck of the flyer told her that his knees could bend backward, muting the grind of bones in sockets. Heavier bones, thicker skull, an angular, glinting intelligence in the face.
    The sight of him brought her memories of Kurani flooding back. This man was slightly different—muscles lean and planar, but of the same design era. She gazed at him, the yearning welling in her, and she forced it down. And after what seemed to her like forever, forced out some words. “I…yes, I am.”
    He smiled affably. “One of our scouts finally admitted that it was not sure all the bodies it saw were dead. I am happy I decided to check its work.”
    As he spoke, his ship settled gently near Cley, and he stepped off without glancing at the ground. Despite his bulk he moved with unconscious, springy lightness. She noted abstractly that he used “I,” which Kurani seldom did. Until now she had never wondered why.
    She gestured behind her. “My friend saved me.”
    “Ah. Can you induce it to return?”
    “Seeker! Please come!”
    She glimpsed a bulk moving through the nearby bushes, coming opposite from the direction Seeker had left. It must be quicker than it looked. There was scarcely a ripple in the foliage, but she knew it was there, still and cautious.
    The man smiled slightly and shrugged. “Very well.”
    “You came to bury my kind?” Cley said bitingly.
    “If necessary. I would rather save them.”
    “Too late for that.”
    He nodded as several emotions flickered across his face: sadness, regret, firm resolve. “The scouts reported some bodies, but all had been burned. You are all I have found—delightfully alive.”
    Delightfully? The word was almost flirtatious. His calm mildness was maddening. “Where were you Supras? They—it—hounded us! Tracked us! Killed us all!”
    Again his face showed a quick succession of emotions, each too fleeting for her to read before the next crowded in. Still he said nothing, though his mouth became a tight line and his eyes moistened. He gestured at a pall of smoke that still climbed on the far horizon.
    Cley followed his movement and said severely, “I guessed you had to defend your own, but couldn’t you have, have…”
    Her voice trailed away when she saw the pained twinge constricting his face as her words struck home.
    Then his mouth