Crisis On Doona (14 page)

“Don’t talk about eggs. I’m starved.” When Hrriss yawned even more broadly than before, Todd regarded him in disgruntlement. “And, damn your lousy furred pelt, you can sleep. I can’t when I’m starving.”

“Then wake me when the meal comes,” Hrriss advised, and settling himself, his chin dropped to his chest, his hands, so oddly more human than the rest of him, relaxing in his lap while his tail hung slack behind him, the tip only occasionally twitching.

Todd sighed, settling back, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles on the supporting chair, and began running over the day’s happenings.
Who
had placed those incriminating items on the
Albie?
He turned to ask what Hrriss thought. Hrriss’s breathing had slowed, become steady and shallow. The gentle oscillation of the tip of Hrriss’s tail attracted Todd’s attention. Its movement was hypnotic and soothing. As Todd watched it, his own eyes grew heavy. After a while, despite his hunger, he dozed off.

* * *

“As you can see, Madam Councillor,” Rogitel continued, running the recorded flight log back to the beginning, “the so-called rescue mission to Hrrilnorr was only the last stop in a series of piracies these two young reprobates committed.” Landreau’s aide was able to act as prosecutor before the Treaty Council only because noncolonizable Human-claimed planets were kept under the aegis of his department. Entries in the log of the
Albatross
suggested that the ship had visited at least three in that category.

The log went through a further playback, projecting its holographic images onto a platform while sound was broadcast through wall speakers. Hu Shih, Hrrestan, Rogitel, and Ken Reeve glowered at the images while Councillor Dupuis’s expression was impassive.

That morning, as soon as the marines had left with Todd in custody, Ken had persuaded Martinson, the portmaster, to let him go to Treaty Island via transport grid, for Martinson had also been called to give a deposition. Now Martinson sat nervously hunched over his folded hands. Allowing the
Albatross
to go uninspected for so long was a black mark on his record. He, too, was risking censure, even dismissal, if a crime resulted from negligence even by his subordinate, Newry.

“No fewer than eight landings are recorded between the date the scout ship left Doona and the date on which it returned here,” Rogitel said. “Eight! And only the one on Hrretha legitimate. Here.” He stopped the tape and rewound it. “Here is their so-called rescue, after they had passed through the perimeter of Hrrilnorr.” The hologram showed the nose of the ship as it approached a distant sun. An audio signal for help crowded by static came out of the speakers. The audio monitors then erupted with the siren call of the interdict alarm, but the ship passed without stopping. Hrriss’s voice could be heard responding to the Mayday message. The print update on the screen showed Hrrilnorr’s identification number and location. Then the ship’s nose penetrated the cloud layer of the planet’s atmosphere.

“Naturally,” Rogitel’s insidious voice went on, “the system’s buoy did not record the Mayday, since it did not exist. That could so easily be patched into the log by either conspirator. Both have the necessary qualifications.”

Then the camera eye upturned for landing, to show the stern of the ship as it touched down on grassoids flattened by the exhaust from the engines.

Councillor Dupuis looked down at her notes for a long moment. Her face showed inner conflict. “This is far more serious than a simple violation. There is no choice but to make an exhaustive formal inquiry into this matter.”

“I heartily concur,” Ken Reeve said so emphatically that Rogitel regarded him in stunned amazement. “A formal inquiry that will clear my son and Hrriss of every one of these ridiculous accusations.”

The Treaty Controller slammed his gavel down on the bench. He was the ranking Hrruban on Doona, and had been nominated to his post by the Third Speaker of the Hrruban High Council. It was a bad time for one of Third’s minions to be the senior Councillor on Doona: Third had been against the joint colony from the day Humans were discovered. Ken tried to take comfort in the fact that the Controller was reputed to be a just personage who tried each case on its individual merit.

“Please be silent, Mr. Reeve. We take the log tape in evidence.” He addressed the holographic recorder. “This hearing is to decide whether Todd Reeve and/or Hrriss, son of Hrrestan, have violated the Treaty of Doona, and to what degree.”

Testimony was then taken from Martinson, who explained that the
Albatross
had gone unsearched two weeks ago due to extenuating circumstances. “They were Snake Hunt Masters and I know how much time and planning that takes to prevent trouble. They told the duty officer that they urgently needed to take advice on a protocol matter. Since the ship was sealed and its papers in order, Newry granted their request.”

“And is this laxness typical of your administration of your post as portmaster?” Rogitel inquired acidly.

“No, Commander, it is not,” the portmaster said, eyes flashing. “I’ve been in this job fifteen years, and I’ve known Todd and Hrriss all that time. I had no reason to suspect that there was anything out of the ordinary about this landing.”

“Whose advice were they in such a hurry to obtain?”

“Mine,” Ken spoke up, and was relieved as he succeeded in making eye contact with the Spacedep official. Ken held that contact, trying to look the disgust he felt. He had never ceased to dislike and distrust bureaucrats, and Rogitel was nearly as bad an example of the type as Landreau.

“And when were the seals on the hatch cut?” the Treaty Controller wanted to know.

“Not in my presence,” Martinson said in an aggrieved tone. “My assistant, Lincoln Newry, was deputized in my absence, but in something as serious as this I should have been there! I have no idea who else was there. When I did arrive, the ship was already open, with troops pouring all over it.”

Next Ken Reeve gave his evidence. Under irritated prompting from Rogitel, Ken repeated the story that Todd and Hrriss had told him two weeks before.

“I believe them,” he insisted at the end. “They were genuinely distressed when they realized they’d been tricked into violating an interdicted system.”

“We have asked you to draw no conclusions,” the Treaty Controller said ponderously. Ken nodded, angrily swallowing the rest of his opinions, and sat down.

The Council proceeded thereafter to take evidence from the sergeant of the Spacedep marines who had searched the
Albatross.
Rogitel testified that he had received information from a confidential source, whom he declined to identify, that there might be contraband aboard the ship.

“Furthermore, I wish to put on record my disgust that two such untrustworthy men were allowed the unsupervised use of a scout ship!” he finished in a voice trembling with outrage.

“I have studied the records of the defendants, Commander Rogitel,” Madam Dupuis said, sternly raising her voice above Ken’s as he erupted from his chair to protest the slander, “and find absolutely no proof to support a claim of dishonesty or irresponsibility. You will kindly retract such an unsupported remark.”

If Rogitel did so with an ill grace, at least he did so and it would be in the record.

“We will see”—Madam Dupuis hesitated—“the two young men now.”

Ken Reeve took that as a good sign: the Councillor was by no means convinced of Rogitel’s damning evidence.

Todd and Hrriss were brought in then, and sworn in as witnesses. As one, they turned to face the table. As accustomed as they were to diplomatic events, facing the full Treaty Council with little sleep and only a dry sandwich to eat was not auspicious. The holographic tape was run once more in their presence.

The first landing was shown, and the two young men were stunned.

“This can’t be our log,” Todd protested. “We made no landing. This must be a mistake.”

“Silence!” the Treaty Controller demanded, rapping his gavel. “Continue.”

Todd and Hrriss watched, incredulous, as the holographic replay continued. At each entry and departure, the ID signal repeated on-screen. There was no question that it matched the
Albatross’s
code. When the tape finished, the Treaty Controller turned to them.

“As the log shows, you visited several off-limits worlds, and took therefrom prohibited materials, and in some cases, precious and valuable items of historical worth. I must say, your thefts were nonpartisan. My notes show that some of them came from Hrruban-marked planets, and some from the Amalgamated Worlds. What can you offer as your defense?”

“Sir, something’s skewed,” Todd said agitatedly. “We passed into only one prohibited system, Hrrilnorr, and only to respond to a Mayday message. That much of this tape is accurate. The rest has been added. We made no entries into other interdicted zones.”

“But why is there no Mayday message recorded in the alarm beacon orbiting the system?” Rogitel asked. “Such beacons are designed for that purpose, to record transmissions that originate within its range of sensitivity.”

“I have no ready explanation ... sir,” Todd added after a pause. “A flaw in the mechanism? The in-system sensor malfunctioning? Plenty of buoys are damaged by space debris. But Hrriss and I heard the call for help. We diverted from our planned route to respond. All we found was that buoy, orbiting the fourth planet.”

“A marker buoy, as you say,” Rogitel intoned coldly. “You broke Treaty Law for an unmanned probe?”

“We did not know it was a marker buoy at the time we heard its message,” Todd replied, trying to keep his voice level.

“It is what we found,” Hrriss said coolly, “broadcasting the distress message.” The Hrruban extended a pointed claw and replayed the section of the log.

“Mayday, Mayday,” said the tape. “Anyone who is within the sound of my voice, Mayday! We require assistance. Our ship is down and damaged. Mayday!” The message began to repeat, and Hrriss shut it off. “Every pilot of whatever species must respond to such a message. As Zodd said, we could not ignore a Mayday. It would be uncivilized.”

Rogitel stood up. “Please tell the Council directly: where did you find the buoy?”

“We found it orbiting Hrrilnorr IV.”

“The Buoy Authority lists no such installation in orbit around Hrrilnorr IV. There are no extraneous beacons orbiting in that system. There are only two assigned to it, each one AU perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic above and below.”

“There was a third one,” Todd said in weary rebuttal. “The buoy was broadcasting the message for help that’s recorded on our log. It still sounds genuine. We couldn’t and didn’t ignore it.”

Dismissively Rogitel switched off the audio. “Anyone could have recorded that message in your ship’s memory. The voice is broadcasting in Middle Hrruban, the language of Doona. The static could have been made by crumpling packing material near the microphone. You put it in yourself. Without correlation, the message must be accounted as false.”

“I respectfully suggest that an analysis of the voice patterns of Hrriss and Zodd be made,” Hrrestan said. “Analysis will prove if one of them recorded the Mayday message.”

Councillor Dupuis made a note, nodding acknowledgment of Hrrestan’s suggestion.

“We didn’t make that spurious recording,” Todd said, turning his head to meet the eyes of the seven Council members, “and we most certainly did not collect or secrete those artifacts in the equipment cabinets.”

“Simple lies to assuage your guilt,” Rogitel retorted.

Todd’s eyes flashed hotly. “I do not lie.” He half sprang from his seat, but Hrriss pulled him down.

“Councillors, may I speak?” Hu Shih rose somewhat stiffly to his feet. “We have before us two reliable young men, considered rather more than unusually truthful by their elders and their peers. Let a full inquiry establish what is fact or fiction.”

“So ordered,” the Treaty Controller said, banging his gavel.

The Spacedep subdirector shrugged dismissively. “That can take months. We have before us right now recorded proof that differs greatly from their verbal accounts. Surely this is sufficient to deprive them of positions of high responsibility and trust. The flight recorder has been placed in evidence. It shows landings preceding and following their landing on Hrrilnorr. Their posted flight plan showed that they skimmed the space between the Human and Hrruban arms of the galaxy, so it is possible to have visited all these worlds in the time they were gone. In every case, they broke interdiction. In only one did they attempt to justify the falsehood with a tale of rescue. Look at the evidence”—Rogitel swept an arm to indicate the table where most of the contraband lay—“taken only this morning from the ship they alone seem to use.”

“The commander forgets one detail,” Hrriss said. “The flight plan we filed with portmaster Martinson is the shortest possible journey we could make between Hrretha and Rrala. There was not time for us to have landed on all these worlds and collected these things in the weeks we were gone. Especially since our log-in and log-off times were verified.”

As if they had placed themselves in further jeopardy, Rogitel called up the holo again and pointed out the time/date designations. “The flight recorder says that the time was available to you. We have run it through compcheck. Though the timing is tight, you would have had the time.”

“Only if we knew exactly where all these artifacts were,” Hrriss protested, “with no allowance for any time to search. How could we know where they were? It would have taken months to research archaeological and geological data from the Treaty Island banks. Or are you suggesting that some of the researchers on Treaty Island are guilty of collusion and deception, too?” Hrriss asked softly.

“The matter will be investigated,” was all the commander would say. He addressed the Council. “Clearly the defendants are guilty of deviating from their registered flight path. Spacedep, as the body in charge of security and defense for the Amalgamated Worlds, demands that this matter be examined as well.”

“Tell me, Commander,” Todd demanded, leaning across the table toward Rogitel, “just why would Hrriss and I wish to steal rarities like that? Much less something as dangerous as that Glow Stone? Where could we possibly fence our loot without being detected? Especially as we are not scheduled to take any off-planet trips in the next year?”