Timothy Zahn - The Green And The Gray

He shook his mind sharply, refusing to finish that thought even in the privacy of his own mind.

Backing out of his parking space, he took the ramp back onto the Thruway. Torvald Gray, Greenwich Village artist, was about to have a visitor.

The Warriors sat Caroline back down on the couch, one of them standing guard over her while the other monitored the burning chair and continued to feed it deeper into the fireplace as necessary. By the time that task was finished, they had been joined by two more Warriors, all four of whom proceeded to stand silently around the cabin like a set of Macy's manikins. No one spoke, not even to answer her questions or respond to her comments, but she was able to pick up the tantalizing almostspeech that indicated they had plenty to say to each other. It was almost a relief when one of them suddenly announced that the Group Commander was ready to see her.

They set off through the woods, the four Warriors arrayed in a loose square around her. It was pitchblack outside, and her first reflexive thought was that this might be her chance to get away. But common sense quickly prevailed. The Greens would hardly let themselves be caught by surprise twice in one night, and wandering around blindly in a strange forest would be a complete waste of effort.

Besides, it was clear after the first dozen steps that her escorts had far better night vision than she did. They walked across the uneven terrain with casual confidence, while she spent much of her time hesitating and stumbling and batting branches away from her face. After a couple of near falls, one of the Warriors finally stepped close and took her arm, guiding her as he would a blind woman through the darkness.

But if she couldn't see very well, the sounds around her more than made up for it. Instead of the usual bird and insect noises, she could hear rustling bushes and grunts of exertion and voices calling to each other in an unfamiliar language.

The main house, when they finally reached it, was something of a surprise. It was larger than she'd expected, rambling outward in two angled wings and rising to three stories in places, set at the back of an expansive and well-kept lawn. Every window in the place seemed lit, and she could see half a dozen shadowy figures walking briskly toward and away from it. Without better light it was impossible to tell what kind of construction it was, but from the design and placement of the windows she guessed it was much older than the cabin, possibly even late 19th century.

Her escorts led her up the steps onto a wide porch and through a door flanked by ornate sidelights, with an equally ornate fanlight above it. Beyond the door was a large foyer, high-ceilinged, rimmed with carved pillars and sporting a hardwood floor. One of the Warriors detached himself from her side and stepped to a set of double doors leading off the foyer to the left. "In here," he said, pushing open one of the doors. "The Group Commander is waiting."

"Thank you," Caroline said, fighting to keep her voice steady. Stepping past him, she walked inside.

And stopped short. The room was a library, complete with built-in bookshelves filled with dark volumes in a variety of sizes. In the center of the room was a massive oak desk flanked by a pair of floor lamps with three antique bergere armchairs facing it.

But it wasn't the furnishings or the room itself that had startled her. It was, rather, the room's single occupant.

"Good evening, Caroline," the silver-haired woman said calmly, the soft glow from the lamps highlighting the deep age lines in her face. "I'm Group Commander Sylvia Green." She smiled slightly. "I take it I'm not exactly what you expected?"

Caroline found her voice. "I'm sorry," she said. "We've heard a lot about Green Warriors in the past couple of days. I guess I just assumed that they would all be men."

The woman shrugged. "The Gifts choose us," she said, rising to her feet and gesturing to one of the armchairs. "We do not choose them. Please; sit down."

"Thank you," Caroline said, frowning as the name suddenly clicked. "You said your name was Sylvia?"

"The same Sylvia your husband met at Aleksander's apartment, yes," the woman confirmed. "I presume that was your next question?"

"Yes, it was," Caroline said as she took one of the chairs. "I hope you aren't too angry about Roger's escape."

"It was embarrassing," Sylvia conceded as she resumed her seat. "But hardly fatal. There's nothing he can do to trouble us."

"Really," Caroline said politely. "Then why are your people all stirred up out there?"

"Stirred up?"

"Making noises in the night."

"Oh, that," Sylvia said. "They're just making your cabin disappear."

"They're what!"

"Not literally, of course," Sylvia assured her. "You may have noticed how narrow the side roads were that you drove along earlier today. The Laborers are merely brushing away the gravel at those intersections and quick-planting bushes across them. Even if Roger finds someone willing to listen to his story, he'll come back to find that none of the drives he described are there anymore."

Caroline felt her stomach tighten. "Clever," she managed.

"Deception has always been a part of warfare," Sylvia said with a shrug. "One of the many aspects of my Gift."

"An interesting Gift," Caroline murmured. "May I ask what you intend to do with me?"

"Nothing sinister, I assure you," Sylvia said. "You'll be kept here until it's all over, then be allowed to return to your home."

Caroline's throat tightened. "Assuming Manhattan is still there."

The lines in Sylvia's face deepened. "What exactly would you have us do, Caroline Human Whittier?" she demanded. "You speak as if we weren't the ones the Grays tried to exterminate, setting fire to our forest and coldbloodedly shooting as we tried to escape the flames. Should we simply lie down and die to keep from inconveniencing your people? Or should we make a stand and defend ourselves and our loved ones? What would you do in our place?"

"I might worry a little more about the innocents caught in the middle," Caroline told her. "Three thousand people died when the twin towers went down. How many buildings and lives are you planning to destroy in your defense?"

"Don't misunderstand me, Caroline," Sylvia said stiffly. "We're Warriors, not butchers. We will not inflict any more damage or death than necessary to protect our people. But if it comes to a choice between Green survival or a few lost Human lives... well, there is no choice there."

"Even if those lost humans are your own friends?" Caroline persisted.

"I have no Human friends," Sylvia said. "As a matter of fact, before I met you and Roger, I'm not sure I even knew any Humans by name."

"You're joking," Caroline said, looking at the other in surprise. "How long have you lived here?"

"I was one of the original refugees," Sylvia said. "Oh, and I knew Velovsky by name, too. But he was about the only Human I knew before you two."

"How in the world did you manage that?" Caroline asked, still not quite believing it. "I thought all of you moved into the city together."

"All except for a small group who came here," Sylvia said. "Leader Elymas wasn't entirely happy with the idea of living in a city, so he sent our group to look into the possibility of a more permanent home."

"I thought he died before you even left Ellis Island."

"He did, but he'd seen the Farseers' visions and knew what to expect," Sylvia said. "Actually, to be precise, it was his son Nikolos who relayed his instructions to us. Leader Elymas was too far gone to speak during his final hours, and Nikolos was the only one who could still communicate with him and interpret his messages."

"What do you mean, interpret?" Caroline asked. "I thought you have a direct mind-to-mind link."