Ireta 02 - [Dinosaur Planet 02] - Dinosaur Planet Survivors (12 page)

“That could be useful.”

Something in her idle tone, that of a woman not much given to chitchat, warned Varian that Lunzie had several purposes in the flight.

“How seriously ill is Kai, Lunzie?”

“Hard to say with no way of testing. Feeling is returning to his hands and the skin of his face isn’t as numb, or so he tells me. There’s no question that he’s suffered some motor impairment in his hands. I’m hoping that will pass once the last of the toxic fluid is flushed out of his system. I want to get more of that moss if we can find it, and I want a store of those succulent leaves around at all times.” Lunzie showed Varian a long red weal on her hand. “The sap is analgesic. I’m not used to dealing with raw fire.”

“How long, then, before Kai is well?”

“He’s not going to be physically fit for several weeks. I’d prefer to keep him from any exertion at all for four or five days. Then a
slow
convalesence.”

Varian digested that in silence.

“Triv can accompany you and Portegin if he’s finished patching. But I must watch Kai.”

“Yes, he’s likely to try something stupid because he feels responsible for us all.”

“What is it about this meeting that worries you, Varian?”

“I wish I could answer that. There was something about Aygar’s attitude . . .”

Lunzie chuckled in high amusement. “I’ll bet there was.”

“Lunzie! You said yourself I’m not at my best—”

“At your very worst, you’d be a joy to a man deprived of a woman. And one hell of an acquisition to their gene pool.”

Varian didn’t dismiss that notion, but it was not, she was certain, the entire answer to the enigma of Aygar’s cryptic expression.

“Sexuality could have been part of it, Lunzie, but it’s more as if . . . as if he had a surprise for me. And he did mention their beacon. Yes, the beacon had something to do with it and something that would, in his mind, neutralize my ability to throw him.”

“Why do they have a beacon?” Lunzie asked. She thoughtfully pursed her lips as Varian shook her head. Abruptly the medic pointed ahead and to starboard.

“Isn’t that moss down there?”

Varian banked sharply, noticing the small animals scurrying from the sound of the sled. She threw on the telltagger, but it only made noises appropriate to the small life-forms rapidly leaving the area. When they had landed, Varian kept one eye on the giffs. As long as they circled lazily, she felt safe.

“Not the right moss,” Lunzie said disgustedly. She held a sample under Varian’s nose.

“It stinks!”

“It’s cryptogamous!”

“Really?”

“Propagates by spores. What we want is bryophytic. You didn’t happen to notice how much of the stuff in Divisti’s garden is also bryophytic?”

“If it’s fungoid, I’m automatically prejudiced,” Varian gave a small shudder. “But I didn’t notice fungi in the garden. And the purple moss was the only one of its sort.”

“Don’t disparage fungi. Some of the oddest and most repellent are delicious and highly nutritious.”

“And smelly?”

“You planet-bred types do worry about smell, don’t you?” Lunzie grinned at Varian, and began to scrub her hands with dirt to remove the moss.

“I’d think smell would bother you shippers a lot more.”

“Is it safe to explore a little here?” Lunzie asked, glancing around the small copse.

“I don’t see why not,” Varian replied, after a glance at the giffs. “I’ll just turn up the volume on the telltagger.”

They ventured farther among the huge, high-branching trees, noting the nail grooves where the long-neck herbivores had steadied themselves to reach the upper leaves and branches. Similar stands of trees were scattered about the vast plain. Distant hadrosaurs, distinguishable by their crests, were bending saplings down to reach the edible twigs.

After concluding that the area had been overgrazed, the two women took to the air again, moving southeast until the land fell away in a huge old fault of several hundred meters’ height. The vegetation in the lower portion differed drastically from that of the plain. There were also more clearings in which to land the sled, but the telltagger buzzed so continually that Varian declined to take an unnecessary risk.

“We can try the swamps where we found the hyracotherium tomorrow,” Varian suggested and Lunzie agreed that this might be a more profitable site for the purple moss.

They were turning back when Varian sighted pod-bearing trees, at the northern end of the fault. Although there was room enough to land a space cruiser, the land was occupied by large tusked animals that were either fighting or bashing headlong into slender trunked trees to dislodge pods for noisy consumption. The air sled frightened the creatures off, but Varian preferred to hover well above the tuskers while Lunzie picked, happily muttering about high protein content.

“Make a note of these coordinates, will you Varian? We’ll want more of these. They’re what give my special stew its flavor.”

Taking another tangent back to the sea cliffs of the golden fliers, they made one more stop, in fruiting trees which Varian also noted for future reference.

The fragrance of the ripe fruit, picked from boughs grazing animals couldn’t reach, filled the enclosed air sled with tantalizing sweetness.

“No more stops no matter what you see, Lunzie. It’s getting dark, and I don’t fancy night landings in that cave.”

“I might just wake Bonnard,” Lunzie said after they’d ridden on in silent appreciation for the sunset display of distant lightning that brightened clouds in the far west. “He can run this boat, can’t he? He’s smart, quick, and he thinks. Besides—”

“Look, if you’re worried, Portegin can stay with you.”

“My concern is for you, Coleader, not myself. Not that any of you are safe if it’s new blood they’re after.”

“What exactly is bothering you, Lunzie? Tell me now. I’ve had enough surprises.”

“It may just be my suspicious nature, Varian, but your Aygar did mention a beacon. It is forty-three years since the mutiny . . .”

“So?”

“What do you know of unrest among planetary minorities?”

“Huh?” It took Varian a moment to grapple with the sudden switch. “I’d heard rumors that choice planets usually end up managed by one of the FSP majors. Financing was the usual rationale. Krims!—You don’t mean . . .” Varian shot a horrified glance at Lunzie, “you don’t mean that the
ARCT-10
might have been taken over by another set of mutineers, do you?”

“A compound ship does not lend itself to mutiny.” Lunzie gave Varian a tight grin. “
Too
many minorities involved, too many different atmospheres, too bloody strict a surveillance against a possible takeover. Command can, you know, close off, gas, or eject any section of a compound ship without affecting overall stability, life support, drive or control elements. And the
ARCT-10
had a large Thek group.
No
minority goes against Thek. What I had in mind were the rumors of expeditions on worlds such as this, where sizable teams simply disappeared. Not planted, but no sign of natural disasters or deaths accidental or otherwise. Just the rumor and no official acknowledgment of the problem. No official announcement about finding the lost units, either. Of course, the change-state problems of this immense Federation could account for the lack of news or official confirmation. Very little gets done quickly, especially when Thek are concerned. Forty-three years since our distress call?” Lunzie’s expression was grimly thoughtful. “That, my dear coleader, is long enough for a homing capsule to arrive at its destination and to permit an expedition to reach the distressed party. In my opinion, that’s why your Aygar was not much bothered by the gene balance in his settlement. And the reason he was surprised you hadn’t homed in on
his
beacon.”

Varian inhaled a long whistle. “That does put a frame around his attitude. But three days? Could he be that certain of a touchdown when they don’t have any communications?” Varian followed again, mulling over Lunzie’s theory. “When I crossed his line of march, he did get rid of me as fast as he could.”

“Which might mean the newcomers have arrived or are expected soon.”

“He certainly expects to own Ireta!”

“Your space law’s worse than your botany, Varian. If my theory has any substance, you were possessed with sheer genius when you posed as a new FSP expedition.”

“I was? Why?”

“One,” and Lunzie ticked off her points on fingers, “the heavyworlders don’t suspect you are from the original team; they can still assume that we died of our own incompetence after the stampede or went into cold sleep. But if,” and another finger emphasized that point, “an FSP relief party arrives before
their
reinforcements, summoned by that homing capsule, they will not have clear title to the planet.”

“How could they think they’d have a clear title anyhow?” Varian demanded.

“There’s a considerable code of space law dealing with shipwrecked survivors who reach habitable planets and/or stranded expeditionary members who manage to achieve a certain level of civilization.”

“What does that code of space law say about mutineers?”

“That’s why it’s safer for
us
to be a relief party.”

“If at first you don’t succeed, have another go?” Varian asked drolly.

“Precisely.”

“But, Lunzie, when the reinforcements arrive, they’d know there aren’t any other ships orbiting the planet.”

“The reinforcements, my dear Varian, are probably illegal and would be most anxious not to be hailed by another vessel. They’ll probably enter the atmosphere under radio silence and as quickly as possible to avoid detection. Since the obvious orbit of a rescue ship is synchronous with the site of original landing, even a large ship can escape detection if the captain has any intelligence.

“And then set about raping this rich world and indulging in their anachronistic behavior. It’s easy now to understand why specialists of the caliber of Bakkun and Berru went along with that asinine rumor about our being planted. They had a world to gain.”

Varian’s expression was grip. “Too bad they didn’t live to enjoy it. But, Lunzie, they did mutiny and they mustn’t be allowed to profit by it.”

“They haven’t yet,” Lunzie replied wryly. “And though their descendants cannot be held liable for the sins of their predecessors, we have to stay alive to prove that a mutiny did occur.”

“Then how—” Varian began indignantly.

“The descendants would only get partial claims,” Lunzie explained hurriedly. “Don’t worry about that now. Consider this instead: once their relief ship arrives, it will almost certainly contain sleds and instrumentation. They’ll be able to mount a full-scale search for our shuttle.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll find it.”

“I suppose we won’t
have
to produce a shuttle,” Lunzie said.

“It’s away mapping the continent,” Varian announced airily. “Regulations don’t specify how large a search party has to be, so five of us are all our ship could send. And Tor knows—” Varian let out a whoop of laughter that caused Lunzie to wince as the sound reverberated in the confines of the sled’s canopy. “Those heavyworlders have outsmarted themselves, Bakkun and Berru included. This planet’s been Thek-claimed for millions of years, if that core Tor was so nardling eager to disinter was Thek-manufactured. And it has to be.”

“Whether it is or isn’t, Varian, may not be germane, considering the span of time since its implantation. You can be certain that Bakkun included precise details of the rich transuranic potential of Ireta when that homing capsule was launched. An expedition will arrive equipped to strip this planet as thoroughly as the Others. And argue about who had the right to do so later.”

A shudder ran through Varian’s body. “Are there really any Others, Lunzie?”

“No one knows. I’ve stood on one of those barren worlds that must once have been as lush and lovely—and as rich—as this one.”

“The mutineers mustn’t rape this one.”

“You’ve my complete support.”

“The old
ARCT-10
may even reappear . . .”

“We’d best consider what resources
we
can muster,” said Lunzie. She raised her hand when Varian began to protest. “I never count on luck. Tomorrow you, Triv, and Portegin will have lift belts and stunners when you meet Aygar. You and Triv will have the advantage of full Discipline.” The medic paused before she added solemnly, “And I’d better give you all barriers.”

“Barriers?” Varian cast a startled look at the medic. That aspect of Discipline was entrusted to only a highly select few.

“Barriers are the only real protection you and our sleepers would have if heavyworlders have landed.” Lunzie spoke quietly. Almost, Varian thought, as if she regretted the necessity of revealing this unexpected strength, rather than the need which dictated its use.

They flew on in silence until the looming white cliffs emerged from the shroud of evening mists and the black, beribboned opening that was their refuge yawned before them.

6

A
FTER everyone had enjoyed the tasty stew Lunzie had concocted and as much of the ripe fruit as they could eat, Varian asked Lunzie to air her theory about the mutineers’ plan for Ireta.

“That’s just how the heavyworlders acquired the S-l92 system,” Triv said with considerable indignation.

“S-l92 was a two-g world,” Lunzie pointed out.

“This one has wild animals for them to eat,” Varian said grimly.

“Not to mention transuranic deposits that would make claimholders extremely wealthy,” said Kai, “if they could validate their claim.”

“Which they can’t because we’re alive.” Portegin’s voice was angry.

“Hmm, but they don’t know it,” Varian reminded him.

“Keep two points in mind, my friends,” Lunzie said. “The mutineers’ descendants have survived and have maintained a good level of technology if they’re forging metal and have constructed a beacon. That qualifies them—”

“We’ve survived, too,” and Portegin sat straight up, incensed.

Lunzie regarded him humorlessly for a moment. “We,” and her voice left the slightest emphasis on the pronoun, “must continue to do so. My second point is that the descendants of the original mutineers cannot be prosecuted for the felony of their grandparents.”

“Tanegli’s still alive.” Varian was surprised at the edge in her voice.

“So I suspect that his first suggestion to the commander of the expected vessel will be to find us,” Kai said. “When they didn’t find the space shuttle under the dead beasts after the stampede, they knew that someone survived and went cryo.”

“Aygar believes that they were deliberately abandoned,” Varian said.

“Your little lie and what Aygar has been told are all that kept him from attacking you, Varian.” Lunzie’s tone betrayed her anger. “We have to keep you and them,” the medic jabbed her finger at the shuttle, “alive until
ARCT-10
returns.”

Portegin gave a snort of derision. “The
ARCT
probably blew up in that cosmic storm.”

“Unlikely,” Lunzie said. “I once slept seventy-eight years and still was collected by my original ship.”

“You think the
ARCT-10 will
come back for us, Lunzie?” asked Portegin, amazed.

“Stranger things have happened. Whatever Aygar believes, Varian, Tanegli knows different, nor can he ignore the fact that some of us may have survived. He cannot take the risk that the
ARCT-10 will
return and with the information left in our beacon, recover the shuttle. Right now we must make plans that will safeguard not only us but the sleepers. Equally important, set ourselves up as scouts totally unrelated to the
ARCT-10
.
If
that ship did blow, its deadman’s knell will be recorded and known to every space commander—including the mutineers’ relief ship—so we can’t pose as a relief unit from the
ARCT-10
.”

“From what ship did we originate then, Lunzie?” Kai was slightly amused, but his husky voice betrayed his physical debility.

Varian looked at him quickly, wondering if he objected to Lunzie’s dominance. His eyes were glittering, but not with fever. He seemed to be encouraging the medic’s unexpected inventiveness.

“We can take our pick—freighter, passenger, another Exploratory Vessel . . .” Lunzie shrugged, suddenly reverting to her usual passivity. “Recall what you told Aygar, Varian.”

“That I was part of a team sent in answer to the distress call.”

“Any vessel has to investigate such a signal . . .” Portegin said.

“But only a Fleet ship could tap our beacon’s messages,” Triv reminded them.

“And
he’d
know how rich this planet is and send a party down if only for finders’ fees.” Portegin capped Triv’s remark.

“That’s what I implied,” said Varian. “Then Aygar gave me his version of the facts.”

“That his grandparents had been abandoned? . . .” Kai asked.

“Deliberately abandoned,” Varian replied with a grimace, “after the tragic accident that demolished their original site. No mention of either of us as leaders, remember.”

“Paskutti had that honor?” Kai was amused.

Varian shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I did inquire about the children. I also said that the
ARCT-10
was still missing.” Varian hesitated, dubious now about that admission.

“Why not?” Kai shrugged. “If the ship had returned within the Standard year, as planned, none of us would be where we are now. What puzzles me is the forty-three years. It doesn’t take anywhere near that time for a homing capsule to reach its destination. And I know the mutineers had ours.”

“They would have had to wait to be sure that the
ARCT-10
wasn’t just delayed,” Varian suggested.

“Could they have known that the
ARCT-10
never stripped the beacon of messages?” Lunzie asked.

“Only Kai and I knew that.”

“Bakkun might have guessed,” Kai said slowly.

“By what we didn’t say rather than what we did?” Varian asked. Kai nodded.

“We ought,” Kai went on, “to have invented a message from the
ARCT
.”

Lunzie snorted. “I don’t think that would have kept the heavyworlders satisfied once they’d had their bloody rest day . . . and tasted animal protein. Brings out the worst in them every time.”

A taut silence ensued, broken as Varian shuddered, then said, “But Divisti’s garden produced sufficient vegetable protein to support twice as many heavyworlder appetites.”

“I’d say they waited,” Lunzie began, picking at her lower lip for a moment before she continued. “They would have tried to locate the shuttle and the power packs which young Bonnard so cleverly concealed. They knew Kai’d sent out some sort of message, before Paskutti smashed the comunit? Well, then, they’d have had to wait to see if assistance arrived. They would have had to assume also that we’d rig some sort of distress beacon to attract rescue, even if it did take the Thek forty-three years to bother to investigate.”

Varian broke in excitedly. “You don’t suppose that they could have rigged an alert for a landing?”

“No way.” Portegin shook his head violently. “Not with the equipment they had: Remember it was replacement parts they took with the stores, not full units.”

“Yes, but Aygar spoke of iron mines, and they’ve been working a forge.”

Portegin kept shaking his head. “Bakkun was a good all-round engineer, but even with all the matrices I’ve got, I couldn’t make that sort of a scan system, not planetwide, and that’s what they’d need.”

“So,” Kai said in summation, “they waited to be sure
ARCT
wasn’t making the scheduled pick-up. They also waited until they could be reasonably certain our distress signal was unheard and then too weak. Then they sent the homing capsule to one of the heavyworld colonies inviting settlers and technicians.”

“And if a colony ship, large enough to transport enough people and supplies, is to make the journey profitable, they’d have to build a landing grid,” Triv exclaimed.

“Which explains why they left the very good settlement they had in the secondary camp,” Varian cried.

“And why Aygar chooses to meet you there rather than at their new site,” Lunzie finished with a sour grimace. “Such an undertaking also explains forty-three years.”

“Even for heavyworlders, it would take years to clear this sort of jungle and hold it back while they got a grid in place,” said Portegin with some awe.

“Probably with a homing device built into the acknowledging capsule to confirm arrangements and approximate time of arrival,” Triv added.

The group reflected on this solution with no joy.

Triv broke the silence, “I’d opt for us to come from a Fleet ship, a cruiser. They make periodic reports to a Sector HQ and no one in his right mind messes with a cruiser.”

“Would Aygar know that?” Varian asked facetiously.

“No, but the captain of the incoming ship would,” Triv replied. “And a search party could have been set down here to check on the distress call while the cruiser goes on to the Ryxi and the Thek planets.”

“Now that our identity is established,” Kai said with an attempt at heartiness, “I suggest we transfer to the campsite built for Dimenon and Margit. If it still exists.”

“Don’t see why it wouldn’t,” Triv said. “The heavyworlders wouldn’t have wasted belt power dismantling and transporting it.”

“Wouldn’t we go to the original site?” asked Portegin.

“We did,” Varian replied, “but Kai got attacked there, didn’t he? So we should move to the second auxiliary camp.” She rose and stretched. “And we’d also better fill in the holes of the vine screen. Then the sleepers will be safe.”

The next morning, Triv took one of the smaller sleds to investigate the secondary camp which had been sited for Dimenon and Margit to use as a base for their explorations of the southwestern part of Ireta’s main continent. Assisted by Varian and Lunzie, Portegin gathered the matrices removed from the other two small sleds and the undamaged units in the shuttle. He was optimistic that with these components, he could rig working comunits in the two small sleds and the four-man sled, plus an ordinary homing beacon, consonant with their role as a rescue team from a Space Fleet cruiser.

Lunzie proved the deftest in making minute welds with the heated tip of a surgical probe, all the while muttering about the misuse of her precious medical equipment on inanimate objects.

Varian’s usefulness to the project was shortlived. She was unable to limit herself to controlled dexterity for long, and announced that she was better suited to shifting vines than matrices. It was hard, sweaty labor, hampered by Ireta’s sudden squalls and then steamy sunheat. The vines clung with tenacious webs of sticky fibers to the rock, so she hacked away, pried loose, and tugged at the tendrils to rig a full curtain across the entrance. At the same time, she rigged fiber ropes to pull the vines back to allow for the entry and exit of the sleds. She coaxed additional new vine tendrils across the chasm, setting them to fill in. At the rate vegetation grew on Ireta, the cave ought to be densely screened in a matter of weeks.

Triv returned with the welcome news that the other camp had survived, although it had become the residence of creatures large and small. However the fortified posts were functional so that, once cleared of intruders, the camp would be habitable.

Lunzie made good use of the vines left over from Varian’s camouflage trimming and created emergency rations from the vegetable matter and more light blankets from the residual fibers. These were packed into the two smaller sleds while Kai was made comfortable in the larger. Lunzie made a last check on the sleepers and set the time release for additional sleep vapor. As Triv pulled back the vine curtain, using Varian’s cords, the three sleds emerged just as the evening rain began to splash down. They landed briefly on the cliff, while Triv joined them and took over the controls of one sled from Lunzie who then joined Varian and Kai in the larger sled.

As Varian lifted, she searched the leaden skies. “No giffs!”

“They’ve sense enough to come in out of that rain,” Lunzie said, drying her hands as she looked at the raindrops battering the sled’s canopy.

“They followed me, you know.”

“So you told me. Not superstitious, are you, Varian?” the medic asked with an ironic chuckle.

“Enough to prefer their company to their absence.”

“They stood guard a long time,” Kai said in his husky voice.

“You’re both allowing them far more intelligence than they deserve.”

Varian turned her head to give Kai a broad grin which he answered. Then the rain squall quickened and she had to keep her attention on flying for the rest of the journey.

Although Triv and Portegin had arrived in advance of the four-man sled, Kai was struck by the eeriness of landing in the gloom of Iretan twilight at a campsite which he knew had been uninhabited for over four decades. It seemed to have slept, unchanged, as they had.

Rationally, he knew that part of its lack of change was due to the rocky site, but the dome which Dimenon and Margit had set up was only slightly browned by wind and weather. A small fire burned on the hearth outside. Its light was cheering and its smoke a partial deterrent to insects until the force field could be powered up. The pack was quickly connected and crackled immediately with tiny spurts as insects were vaporized. Small bits of char drifted down as Kai stiffly made his way from the sled to the dome. He was heartily disgusted with his weakness and kept to himself the fact that he still had no feeling at all in the areas where the fringe had sucked deepest. He couldn’t prevent furtive glances for fringes lurking beyond the veil. He worried briefly if the creatures could be stopped by the force field. Of course they could—Force fields had even held back the stampede of the herbivores . . . for a time.

He was trembling again, to his disgust. Only a short walk, and he was spent. Lunzie had cautioned him against using Discipline to overcome the weakness of convalescence, but surely a daily routine of basic Discipline exercise would be beneficial. Might even be essential if Varian’s meeting with Aygar proved unlucky. Kai wasn’t easy about that confrontation, even with all three armed. He’d spent some time trying to estimate how large the mutineers’ group would be after two generations of breeding. And if a colony ship had arrived, there could be thousands to back the heavyworlders’ claim. Either way his team was at risk.

Where had the
ARCT-10
disappeared to? Why had Tor been so uncharacteristically keen to find the old core? Why had the Thek then departed? Kai reminded himself that a mere human did not demand explanations of a Thek. Out of sight, out of mind, yet Tor had awakened him to find the core.

And how had the Ryxi flourished on their new planet? Kai wondered, though he knew that Vrl, his contact with the volatile avians, probably wouldn’t have worried about the geologist’s silence. Certainly the Ryxi wouldn’t have communicated with the Thek. Surely, though, Kai reasoned, the commander of the Ryxi colony vessel ought to have tried to raise the Iretan group, if only prompted by courtesy. Probably the silence of the Iretan expedition was thought to mean that the
ARCT-10
had collected the Iretan team as scheduled.