Migration Read Online Free PDF

convinced of the value of such things. Now, spotting the intent pair approaching them as Mudge stood up, she was even more grateful. “Don’t talk to anyone,” she hissed. “Out this door, left to the end of the hall. Take the lift to the third floor, last office on the right. Wait for me there. And don’t touch anything,” she added hastily, suddenly beset by the image of Mudge rampaging through her drawers. “Go!”
    He walked away as John Ward came up to introduce his companion, a companion who not only gave the departing Mudge a curious look, but was also someone Mac hadn’t expected to meet again—and certainly not here.
    “Mac. This is Dr. Persephone Stewart, my—our new theoretical statistician. She arrived ahead of schedule.” To say John was beaming was an understatement. He practically radiated joy. His companion smiled at him, then at Mac.
    Emily would say this Dr. Stewart had done her homework, Mac decided. An older, but athletic figure, their new statistician was dressed to blend in a casual, not-too-trendy shirt and skirt. An interesting personality was hinted at by intricate rows of red, bronze, and turquoise beads braided scalp-tight over the top of her head like a tapestry cap, dense black hair below framing her ears and neck like ebony mist. Slung casually over one shoulder was a well-used portable keyboard. No wonder the students in the gallery were tracking Dr. Stewart’s every move. John, hovering at her side, was patently smitten.
    So much for his complaint about Kammie’s high-handed decision-making.
    “Call me ’Sephe,” invited the tall dark woman, her smile as magic and mischievous as Mac remembered. “Everyone does.”
    Oh, she remembered the smile. And the name. And more. Mac remembered the weapons, ready in each hand, as this woman guarded her against the Ro. ’Sephe might well be a statistician.
    She also worked for the Ministry, not Norcoast. Why was she here? Why now?
    Mac’s mouth dried. Something had changed .
    “Everyone calls me Mac. Nice to meet you,” she said calmly, offering her hand.
    But Mac wasn’t sure if it was in welcome or self-defense.

- 2 -
    SECRETS AND STEALTH

    T HE OUTER RIDGE of Castle Inlet curled its arm against the Pacific, hoarding an expanse of coastline virtually untouched by Human intervention for over three hundred years. It was a steep, tree-encrusted coast, where eagles perched at the bottom of clouds and rivers gnawed the growing bones of mountains.
    The land might trap the eye, but water defined it. Waves alternately slapped aside cliffs or gently lipped fallen logs to shore; mist, rain, or snow filled the air more often than sunlight. Water, locked in glaciers and snow-cap, even set the distant peaks agleam by moon or star.
    Today’s downpour had eased to the point where Mac, looking out her window, could see the toss of waves and the mauve-gray of cliffs, if not the trees above and beyond. She didn’t need to—those trees were the heritage of the man standing beside her. In a sense, Charles Mudge III was the Wilderness Trust.
    In all the years they’d tussled, spat, and outright battled over scientific access to this Anthropogenic Perturbation Free Zone, she’d always respected that. Now? “They’ve promised me privacy here,” Mac said finally, turning to look at Mudge. “If that’s a lie, I’ve no way to know. I can only warn you.”
    “The same ‘they’ who wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
    Mac nodded.
    The Ministry of Extra-Sol Human Affairs. An office on each Human settlement, station or colony, two or three local staff. Census-takers. Bureaucrats who arranged travel visas and sent inoffensive messages of congratulations or condolences as necessary, keeping somewhat neglectful track of humanity’s widespread offspring. Mediators, when Human expectation collided with alien reality. There was a central office on Mars, ostensibly to be close to the transects anchored outside Venus orbit, but also because matters within