Migration by Julie E. Czerneda Page A

fieldwork.”
    Like a certain someone who’d looked more at home skulking around in camouflage and armor than in suit and cravat . “Nik,” Mac suggested. “And you, of course.”
    “Me, qualified?” ’Sephe’s eyes turned bleak. “You could say that. Lasted three years in an orbital colony where revolution was the polite name for anarchy. Made me the logical choice to accompany you to the way station.” Her full lips twisted. “Make that the only choice, given the other three in the Earthside office at the time couldn’t find the arming mechanism of a hair dryer on a good day.”
    Which implied too much about ’Sephe’s current assignment, Mac realized, her mouth suddenly dry. “Is there going to be trouble here?” she demanded. “Is that why you’ve been sent?”
    “Gods, I hope not.”
    Mac blinked at the vehemence in the other woman’s voice. ’Sephe hesitated then lifted her hands in the air as if in surrender. “They didn’t exactly send me.”
    “Pardon?”
    “They didn’t send me. I asked to apply for the job.”
    There had to be something wrong with her hearing.
    “Job? What job?”
    “I found out you, I mean Dr. Ward, was looking for a new staff member. I took a peek at the listing, just out of curiosity, and—” Was that a blush warming ’Sephe’s ebony skin? “—it was perfect. I did my doctoral thesis on topographical analysis of multidimensional systems. Assessing failures in glassy metal moldings. My work has obvious application to the analysis of dissolved substance variances in tidal currents.”
    “Obvious . . .” Mac’s eyebrows rose as she stared at ’Sephe, becoming convinced despite herself. “You’re really here to work with John and his crew.” Her lips twitched, then curved up. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You had no trouble getting approval from your superiors at the Ministry, who have a vested interest in this place and in me. All so you can do topographical analysis.” She couldn’t help laughing. “Some spy you are. Anyone else know?”
    ’Sephe looked offended. “I keep secrets for a living.”
    Mac could picture Emily rolling her eyes at this.
    “It’s not that I don’t take my work for the Ministry seriously—”
    “But if you can serve and do what you love at the same time, why not?” Mac offered as the other woman appeared to hunt for words.
    Another smile. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”
    So now she had a reluctant spy—or was it an enthusiastic statistician—on staff? Mac sighed to herself. Still, it had to be an improvement to work with a spy who valued their research. She cheered. Maybe, with luck, ’Sephe would become so engrossed in her own work she’d ignore minor details such as who was swimming among the pods in the middle of the night. Or was it morning? Mac stifled a yawn.
    ’Sephe noticed. “I’ll let you get some sleep, Mac.” She paused, having almost made it to the door again. Mac, almost to the couch again, waited politely, if impatiently. “I’m glad you know,” the erstwhile agent confessed. “I’ll do my best for Dr. Ward and his team. But I’ll have to follow orders from—you know who—over his or yours.”
    “Just hope Kammie never finds out,” Mac said. At the other’s puzzled look, she smiled: “You’ll learn. Good night, ’Sephe. And thanks for your help with Oversight.”
    “It’s Nik I hope never finds out,” the other echoed back to her.
    “Mr. Career Spy,” Mac quipped before she could stop herself, then waited, curious how ’Sephe would react. It was late enough for them both to have lost a little mutual caution.
    Sure enough, ’Sephe actually winked at her. “I’d take that bet. Scuttlebutt says Nik’s posting Earthside was an early retirement, but no one knows from what. He must have traveled outsystem a fair amount, though.”
    Mac fluffed her pillow. “What makes you say that?”
    “From the day Nik arrived, he was the one the consulate would call to nursemaid