Exiled to the Stars (46 page)

Lee sent over his recommendation the next day, followed by the appearance of Jana Matuchek in person a few minutes later. Jana was another of the Planetborns he'd not yet met. He made another mental note, at least his dozenth, that he had to get out of the office more.

"Jana," he greeted her. "I'm glad you could come so quickly."

Jana's appearance was mostly Mediterranean, but she had her Malaysian mother's eyes. The combination resulted in an amazingly beautiful young woman. Ken decided she must carry a stick to beat off the suitors. "I'm excited about the opportunity, sire," she replied," and, uh, It's pronounced 'Yana'," she pointed out.

Ken nodded. "Well, the comp selected you as one of its top candidates, and I think Lee picked you as soon as he heard what we needed. So, you come doubly highly recommended. Did Lee explain the job?"

Jana nodded. "You want me to work with Big Lars, and learn about handling radioactives. I'm really excited about it."

"Well," Ken said, "That's part of it. But you may have heard that Lars was injured several months ago." She nodded, and he continued, "Well, the other part of the job is keeping Lars under control. I had to promise Dr. Bono that he wouldn't lift anything heavier than a beer bulb, and it'll be your job to see that he doesn't."

She smiled, and Ken decided that must be a
big
club, not just a stick. "That might not be easy, sire," she said. "I know Big Lars, and I've seen him in action."

Ken answered her blinding smile with one of his own. "Well, you'll always be able to threaten to report him to me or to Dr. Bono. He's spent six months on medical retirement, and it almost drove him crazy. I don't think he'll risk that again. And I don't want that to be an empty threat," he continued. "I'll give you my personal tablet code, and any time he gives you any trouble at all, you call me, and I'll yell at him, and threaten him with Dr. Bono. That should do it!"

Chapter 18

Twelfthmonth 10, Year 23 A.L.

It took another week for the Explorers to map out a revised action plan for investigating the "natives" that included the newfound resources, and several more days to complete the preparations.

The first action was to launch several of the winged probes. The designers back on Earth had decided that if it were to be able to fly, a creature must take one of only a few forms. Oh, they might vary greatly in size, but all would need wings, whether feathered or membrane, or some sort of gasbag, like an airship.

Crashlanding featured both types, though the gasbag types were apparently rather rare. Susan proclaimed herself surprised that the 'gasbags' weren't already extinct, since their young were such easy prey for winged predators. Adults, of course, were so huge that no winged creature could seriously threaten them. There were no feathered birds on Crashlanding, but a few furred and even some 'naked' flyers somewhere between birds and bats. Some were huge, and constituted a threat to both the colonists and their smaller livestock, though none were a threat to cows, carabao or bison. Colony policy was to shoot the larger 'birds' on sight.

The winged probes, then, had interchangeable feathered and bat-type membrane wings, and even a gasbag attachment to let them circle above a target while narrowcasting images to the airship, hovering out of sight.

For this part of the exercise, though, the Explorers had decided that the target was close enough to the colony to permit the use of one of the several hundred 'weather balloons' available. They would simply attach the narrowcast receiver to the tethered balloon, and allow it to rise to within line-of-sight of their 'bird', which would be circling above the native 'village' and transmitting live images.

The images, retransmitted by the receiver, could be received and viewed by any tablet in the colony. When the system was explained to him, Ken nodded his approval. "Good thinking, Ron. No one can complain of being left out, and who knows? Maybe it'll generate a little excitement and enthusiasm around here!"

The first bird-camera launched was camouflaged to resemble a small gasbag. The theory was that since the gasbags were largely at the mercy of the air currents, it would be less unusual for one to drift over the "village" for a long period, than for a winged version to continue to circle overhead.

But the first one didn't even make it to the village before being attacked and downed by something the Earthborns said resembled a giant dragonfly, but with four membranous wings, a hooked beak and clawed grasping appendages. In mid-air, there was little to use to gauge the thing's size, but judging by the last few seconds of footage, when it struck at their 'bird', the thing looked several meters long.

The second probe was fitted with the longest-span wings available, despite Raj Darpee's misgivings about their effect on controllability. Raj was the Explorer selected as probe controller, but the Council, worried by the loss of a probe and its valuable camera so quickly, overruled the young Planetborn.

Thanks to announcements over the 'net, nearly all the colonists were watching as the second probe assumed its position over the 'village' without incident. In the Council chamber, the probe had completed only two orbits before Roberto Gomez, an Earthborn councilor and member of the 'conservative' faction grunted and announced. "They're not intelligent. They're animals."

The 'believer' Councilor leapt to his feet, and the two Planetborns snorted and raised eyebrows. The 'believer' reddened and opened his mouth to speak, but Vlad hurriedly jumped in first. "We've barely had two orbits. What makes you so sure, so soon?"

Gomez shrugged. "No boats. These…these
things
live in a kind of delta, with a river on one side and the sea on the other. It's pretty obvious that much of their diet is fish. Now, I was a fisherman, and any fisherman can tell you that you have to get away from the shore to get a serious catch. But these things don't have boats, or canoes, or even hollow logs. I'll lay odds they're amphibious animals."

The 'believer's' mouth snapped shut, and his face took on a thoughtful look, while the Planetborns' derisive expressions changed to ones of interest.

The creatures themselves seemed to resemble what Helen Montero described as the body of a scorpion mated to the tail of a crocodile, and her description wasn't far off the mark, Susan Renko admitted. With the exception of a longer, more streamlined head, the body
did
resemble that of a scorpion, although a two-meter-long furred one. They had eight legs, and two large, wicked-looking pincers. The tail was straight, as long as the body, and flattened vertically like that of a crocodile.

Susan Renko and her new apprentice, Michiko Montoya, agreed that with their streamlined bodies and paddle-like tail, the things were probably very fast swimmers, but they refused to commit themselves on the issue of sentience without much longer and more detailed observation.

After an hour or so of observing nothing exciting except an occasional creature scurrying from its 'den' to the sea or vice versa, most of the colonists had gotten bored, and moved on to other things. As Gomez rose to leave the Council chamber, Lee Jenson approached him.

"Messer Gomez," the young man began, "May I have a word with you, please?"

Gomez frowned. To Gomez, Jenson was one of those young Planetborn Councilors that kept pushing the Council to take foolhardy chances. But he was always courteous and respectful, and seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. "Of course, Messer Jenson," he replied with a reluctant half-smile. "What can I do for you?" The two pulled chairs aside to provide a small measure of privacy.

Lee frowned, as though unsure how to begin. "Uh, sire, I wasn't aware that you were a fisherman on Earth." Gomez nodded, and the young man continued, "Uh, well, sire, I wondered if you would consider teaching some of the Planetborn how to fish the river."

Gomez looked surprised. "Why? We couldn't eat anything you caught."

Lee took a deep breath, sighed it out. "The Earthborn can't eat the fish, but Ron and Elaine found out that Planetborns can eat at least some of them."

Gomez opened his mouth to reply, but Lee bulled on. "We've been hearing rumors about problems with the plant crops. If we can make the river a food source, it might mean the colony's survival one day.

"Sire," he continued eagerly, "You and I differ on a number of issues, but we're both devoted to the survival of the colony. You have skills that may be vital to that survival. We've had a couple of volunteers trying to learn to fish on their own, with computer instruction, but they haven't had a lot of success."

Gomez' eyebrows rose. "Really? I hadn't known that." Suppressing a smile, he noted that a blush looked odd on the green-tinged complexions of the Planetborns.

"Uh, well, sire," the younger man began uncomfortably, "we, uh, don't talk about stuff like that very much with the Earthborns. As you say, they couldn't eat the fish we caught."

Gomez looked shocked. "My God, has it really come to that? Have we actually reached the point where part of the colony thinks it has to hide things from the rest?"

Lee looked troubled. "I'm afraid so, sire. Please take no offense, but we feel that the Earthborns are often, uh, unresponsive and unconcerned about matters of concern to, uh, 'Greenies'.

Gomez winced slightly at Lee's use of the derogatory term some of the more bigoted Earthborns used to describe the Planetborns. "I hate that term," he said with a frown. "I hate even more that it exists, and that some of us would apply it to our own children and grandchildren."

His expression firmed, and he nodded. "Certainly, I'll help your volunteers. Perhaps it's time we Earthborns stopped fretting about how different our children are, and began thinking about their survival, and that of
their
children. Do you have a boat?"

Lee nodded. "Yes, sire. We have the, uh, 'canoe' that Ron and Elaine used to go downriver."

Gomez shook his head. "No good. You want something wider, and flat-bottomed, so it won't capsize if you have to stand up or move around." After a moment, he nodded decisively. "All right. I'll get on the computer and see what I can come up with. Have your volunteers meet me in the Dorm 9 classroom aboard the ship at 800 tomorrow. I'll want to find out what they know, and what they
think
they know."

Gomez sought out Ken. He explained his plans to teach his fishing skills to the Planetborns.

"Will you be able to teach them to fish the river?" Ken asked. "Or can you teach them to fish the sea, as well?"

"The river, of course." Gomez replied. "I fished the Amazon delta, and I know both, but they are very different, and we are simply too far from the sea." He frowned. "Oh, in another twenty years or so, they might be ready to establish a fishing camp on the seashore, with contact maintained by airship or something, but I'll be too old to teach them by then. Deep sea fishing is hard physical work, and it's not for old men."

He looked troubled. "Ken," he said, "I may have been wrong. Perhaps it
is
time for us to begin raising our sights. We were confronted by so many dangerous situations in such short order that, well, maybe we just got in the habit of living in survival mode. Maybe we concentrated too much on things directly related to basic survival, food and shelter, and ignored the long term. These kids will be here after all of us Earthborns are gone, and if they can eat fish, well, I guess it's our job to teach them how to fish."

Ken clapped him on the back, smiling broadly. "I think I know how hard it was to confront that, Roberto. I hope we can work together to help the colony move from survival mode to
living
mode."

A quick check of the computer revealed that it did indeed contain fishing equipment and hardware for boats. Ken authorized Roberto to access the computer files on the stuff, and to withdraw anything he found useful.

When the list appeared on Roberto's tablet, he seemed largely unimpressed, snorting derisively. "This list wasn't made by a fisherman," he proclaimed. "It was made up by some bureaucrat who perhaps went sport fishing on weekends, sitting in an office and reading about fishing."

Still, he was impressed with some of the items. There were, for instance, over a dozen different designs of nets, along with the materials to quickly make more. A large assortment of poles and lures only made him shake his head. Pole fishing was for amateurs, sportsmen. He was much more interested in the hundreds of various fish traps, kilometers of trotline and thousands of stagings, and curious about the inflatable "jugs," used for river fishing in parts of NorAm. He headed for the ship, muttering to himself.

Lee didn't tell Gomez, but the Planetborn volunteers needed as much or more convincing than the Earthborn fisherman had. Finally, though, eight Planetborns showed up in the Dorm 9 classroom.

Ken grinned at Roberto's retreating back. It appeared that Lee Jenson was doing his part! Then, his expression changed to a thoughtful one. He was becoming slightly overwhelmed at the sudden pace of events after twenty-three years of quiet desperation.

The Planetborns didn't understand the trauma the Earthborns had been through. The shock of losing more than three quarters of their families, neighbors and friends in less than a year had left the survivors frightened and desperate. They had turned inward, hunkering down in a grim drive for survival. Nearly every other consideration had been disregarded in the frantic drive to ensure a stable food source before the ship's supplies ran out, and to protect the ship itself, with all its resources so essential to the colony's survival. Even after that had been achieved, the survivors had been too frightened to risk lives in the pursuit of new, perhaps risky goals. Crashlanding was an entire new, possibly hostile world, and theirs a tiny alien island. They were frightened.

The possibility of 'natives', though, was a threat that not even the most timid colonist could ignore. Well, it seemed the 'natives' were likely not a threat, but their presence had been a trigger. The Planetborns, already chafing under their seniors' desire to maintain the comforting status quo, were beginning to be heard, and other factors were intruding on the Earthborns' comfortable little village. The growing materials shortage, for instance. The point was that the pendulum of public opinion was beginning to swing, and it was Ken's responsibility to get out front and lead the movement, before it took off on its own in a disorganized mess.