Delta Pavonis (3 page)

"Dierdre Jamail?" She nodded. "Southeast peninsula, Atropos?" She nodded again. "That's the last stop. If I was you, I'd stay aboard and ride back."

She was getting tired of this. "I asked for the assignment. I'm looking forward to it."

He looked as if he doubted her sanity. "You're sure welcome to it. Hop aboard, you'll be there in a little under seventeen hours."

She hoisted her duffel bag and climbed the steps into the scoutcraft.

TWO

She was sure she would go insane long before she reached her destination. She had pictured an aircraft ride as being not greatly different from a voyage in a small spacecraft. She was wrong. First of all, the noise was unbelievable. The interior was designed for cargo, with the only concession to passenger comfort being fold-down scats along the sides of the hold. There was no insulation to dim the noise from the engines, and the fumes from fuel and lubrication were almost as bad. She had wanted to talk with her fellow passengers, but the noise precluded even that small pleasure.

The motion of the craft was violent, jerking up, down, or to any side with every atmospheric disturbance. The thing had been designed for efficient cargo hauling, not for smooth flight. She was glad that the pilot had passed out anti-nausea pills before takeoff. Even the view from the tiny ports was disappointing, being mostly the tops of fluffy white clouds or monotonous seascape.

Every couple of hours they landed and discharged cargo or passengers. These brief respites allowed her to get out of the craft and stretch, breathe clean air and talk a little, but there wasn't much to learn. Most of the other passengers were newcomers like herself and had little to tell her.

The terrain changed from one stop to the next, but it was dark after the third one. The last stop before the fall of night had been at the base of an immense mountain range, and she was deeply impressed. Holos could be incredibly realistic, but they were no substitute for knowing the mountains were actually there. They made her feel dwarfed in a way that a big chunk of rock floating in space never could.

Somehow, toward the early morning hours, she managed to sleep a little. All too soon, something shook her shoulder.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we're here. Come on out and see your new abode."

She snarled something sleepily and rubbed her eyes. A brief struggle freed her from her straps, and she collected her belongings and made her way to the hatch. The sky was growing dimly blue, so there was little to see, but there was plenty to feel and smell.

The heat struck her like a rubber hammer as soon as she left her transportation. The humidity matched the temperature. It was like breathing under water. If this was early morning, what would it be like at midday?

Even without a trace of breeze, the air bore distilled essence of organic decay. The air at the base had been rich with it. Here it was concentrated a hundredfold. She was sure that daylight would reveal a devastated landscape in the wake of some unthinkable catastrophe, because it smelled as if everything for a hundred kilometers around had been dead and rotting.

"Where is everybody?" she asked the pilot. "Who do I report to?" He was controlling a robot stevedore that methodically unloaded and stacked plastic crates from the hold.

"Somebody'll be along when it gets light. They know about this delivery, they're just too lazy to come out this early. That looks like all of it. Make sure to stand clear of our takeoff. See you."

She saw no particular reason to say goodbye, so she walked away from the scoutcraft as its engines began to whine in an ascending pitch, kicking dust and debris all over her, blowing off her new hat. She turned to chase it, but it was lost in the dark. When she turned back, the scoutcraft was climbing, its lurid running lights blinking in varicolored patterns. For five minutes it dwindled into the northwest, then was gone.

Dierdre walked back to the crates and sat on one. Between the fatigue of the trip and this virtual abandonment, she felt infinitely depressed. In her whole life, she had seldom been alone, rarely more than a few meters from others. Even in solo jaunts on small ships, there had always been remote communication. This was different. Now, there was no way she could summon another human being.

A loud squall from somewhere near set her nerves jangling and reminded her that she wasn't quite alone. She decided that the arrival of the scoutcraft had silenced the local fauna, but now that it was gone they were resuming their chorus. She tried to remember if she had ever read or heard any report on the animal life of southern Atropos, but she could recall nothing. All around, things were croaking, chittering, whirring.

She leapt to her feet and spun when something roared behind her. Suddenly, she was terrified. There was something out there that wanted to eat her. She had no way of telling it that she wasn't edible. With trembling fingers, she tumbled the torch off her belt and switched it on. The beam illuminated several meters of ground but washed all color from it. Then she saw movement Something leapt into the light. It was about the size of her palm, wedge-shaped, with no visible eyes. It had six legs, the four at the broad end of the wedge long and muscular, the front ones small and terminating in tiny pincers. It swelled until it looked like a pear, its small, toothless mouth opened and it emitted the ear-splitting roar that had so shocked her. It paused as if waiting for applause; then, disappointed, hopped out of the light in a single bound.

Dierdre let out her breath and sat back down, trembling this time with relief. Not just because there was no danger, but because nobody had seen her panic. She was beginning to doubt that she would live through this.

Fifteen minutes later, she realized that she could see for at least a hundred meters. Soon colors began to emerge, and the nocturnal noises abated. Things didn't look promising, but it was a welcome change. She was in a clearing, and all around her was dense jungle. The profusion of flora fascinated her, but she wasn't about to go in there alone. To the east was what appeared to be a path. She wasn't sure whether they were called roads when there was no hardened surface. This one looked like plain dirt.

When it got bright enough, she found her hat and put it on. She needed it, because sweat was already running down her face. At least the scare had taken her mind off the heat. She waited some more, and was about to try out some of her emergency signaling equipment when she heard something mechanical. The noise was from the direction of the path and she watched to see what might be coming.

A minute later a quaint-looking vehicle trundled into view. It rolled on six fat tires, its jointed body and the rough surface making for what struck her as comical progress. It bounced its way over to her stack of crates and stopped. The driver dismounted, and he was only slightly less picturesque than his vehicle.

"Who arre ye, lass? We were no tol' tae expect a new replacement." She knew that accent. He was from Iona, a tiny asteroid that had made the Delta Pav Jump. Everyone else considered the Ionan brogue to be hilarious and many fights resulted. His bushy beard and hair were red, and framed his face like an archaic baby bonnet. His clothing consisted of boots and a ragged pair of shorts. There was nothing comical about his belt, though. It sported a large pistol and a larger machete.

"From what I hear," she said, her temper already frayed, "nobody tells your outfit much of anything."

"Och, and is that no the truth! I hope this load has yerr rations, for we've little to spare ye."

She sighed. "Well, I guess it's not your fault I was sentenced to Devil's Island. I'm Dierdre Jamail, from Deryabar, by way of Avalon and the Academy."

He accepted her hand. "I'm from Iona, as you'll no doubt have discerned. Ma name's Bela Szini."

"Really? I was expecting something more . . . well, more Celtic."

He grinned, revealing a gap between his front teeth. "Yerr own accent's no terribly Lebanese."

She laughed for the first time since touching down on planet. "I'm told my ancestors came from darkest San Antonio before they got sense and left Earth."

"Let's throw yerr things onta the donkey, then ye can help me wi' these crates."

Five minutes of relatively mild labor had her gasping. "Is it always like this?"

"It gets much worse. Ye'll acclimatize, though. You never get really used to it, but in a few days it'll no' bother ye so much. Climb on in and we'll be awa'."

With some trepidation, she climbed into the rider's seat. Bela stepped on a pedal and the donkey whirled in a circle and headed back toward the path. She had to grab the seat to keep from being thrown out and made a note to watch out for these centrifugal effects. Once they were going, she found that the ride wasn't us upsetting as that in the scoutcraft. In fact, it was rather exhilarating, and the artificial wind it created was refreshing. She also discovered that the cord dangling from her hat was to be tied beneath the chin, and that it was necessary. After it blew off and they had to stop to retrieve it, Bela showed her how the cord worked.

A few minutes' drive brought them to the seashore, a spectacle that took her breath away. So much water was simply unbelievable, even though it smelled as bad as the jungle. That was followed within minutes by another unprecedented sight: her first sunrise. Once again, a lifetime of holos had not prepared her for the splendor of the scene.

"It's fabulous!" she yelled. "Does it happen like this every day?"

"Aye. And almost as pretty when it sets. By then ye'll be happy to see it go."

She sat back down from her half-standing position. "Have I really been condemned to the lowest circle?"

He held out a hand, palm downward. It was a spacer equivalent of a shrug. "Ye're lucky to be awa' from they Survey loons. Here we've the best folk on this benighted planet. O' course," he amended, "ye'll find they're not all as easy to get along with as meself." He thought for a moment. "We run, you may say, to strong personalities."

Another ten minutes brought them to a huddle of flimsy-looking structures built on the shore. They were partly of the ubiquitous foam, partly of what looked like local materials. There were a few people walking about dozily, blinking and rubbing their eyes. Most were as casually dressed as Bela, except for those who had not bothered to dress at all. It was obvious that uniform standards were a bit slack at this outpost.

They wheeled to a stop in front of a shack built mainly from what appeared to be the bones of an enormous animal. It was roofed with vegetable matter, probably gigantic leaves, she thought. A sign by the door said: GO AWAY.

"Here we are," Bela said. "Let's see if the boss is up." He hopped out and Dierdre followed. The interior was dim after the glaring sunlight outside. It was quiet and relatively cool and she flinched when Bela howled at the top of his lungs.

"Chief Kurz! Rouse yersel' from yer drunken stupor, mon!"

A blocky, purposeful man came from a back room, buckling a kilt around his waist. "I'm awake, you idiot. Did you get the cargo?" His eyes narrowed when he saw Dierdre. "Who's this?"

"Dierdre Jamail, yer excellency."

"Dierdre? I didn't order any dierdres. What did you do, kid, kill somebody?"

She glared at him, hand on her belt knife, picking a spot to start carving. "No, but the idea has its attractions."

Kurz rubbed a hand down his face. "Sorry. It's too early for civilities. Fact is, we have a full complement and we've suffered no fatalities, a record I intend to maintain. Were you given a reason for being . . . oh, hell, I guess you screwed up like the rest of us. We'll find a slot for you. Have a seat, Dierdre, and I'll get the bureaucratic formalities out of the way." He turned slightly. "Barbara!"

A woman came from the back room. Her hair was short and wavy, and she wore a tiny loincloth and a string of big, wooden beads. She looked like something from an ancient jungle film. "What do you need, lion?" She caught sight of Dierdre and smiled. "Oh. someone new! God, it'll be good to have some one else to talk to. Do you play bridge?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Try not to be too appalled," Kurz said. "When we're out exploring, we're all business. Not too much spit and polish around camp, though. Barbara, this is Dierdre Jamail." He squinted at her orders. "Just out of the Academy, with a degree that's of no particular use. Don't feel bad, Dierdre. Down here hardly any academic specialty is much use. What you need is a sound body and an open mind. Says here you specialized in topographical analysis. I guess you know that it doesn't work very well here."

"Until a couple of years ago, we had only Earth to go by. I think maybe we just need to find the key, and everything down here will fall into place."

Kurz nodded. "I hope you're the one who finds out what it is. Barbara, put Dierdre down for rations and housing, and enter her on the payroll. Might as well list her as apprentice explorer. That suit you, Dierdre?"

"I have to start somewhere." Actually, she thought it sounded exciting. "Explorer" sounded much more adventurous than her former designation, "student."

"I'll put you in Ray Forrest's team. That's Team Red. Our exploration teams have color designations. Since we're going into the Iliad Sea my command is designated Task Force Iliad. So, when you report over the comm, you'll start off with, 'This is Iliad Team Red, Jamail reporting' or something like that."

She liked the sound of that. It sounded professional. "Where will my team be working?"

"We're just finishing up our exploration of the peninsula. The day after tomorrow, we cross the strait to the islands. The first one is Priam and Forrest's team will be the first to land."

"You can bunk in your team's barracks," Barbara said. "Or if that's too crowded for you, you can build your own shelter. I wouldn't recommend that since you'll be leaving so soon."

"There's a lot to learn in a short time," Kurz went on. "But a few basic rules you have to know right away. First, never go anywhere alone. Second, when you do go somewhere with somebody, make sure your team leader knows where you're going. Keep your comm unit and your medkit with you at all times. Everybody hates rescue parties. If you get in a fight with any of the other personnel, don't let it come to my attention. I'll send you both back with a bad report." He turned to look at Barbara. "I guess that's about it. Can you think of anything else?"

She smiled. "That's enough for one day. I'll take her down to Team Red barracks. C'mon, hon." From a peg by the door the woman took a belt that bore, among other items, a medkit and comm unit, settling it about her hips.