The Mystery of Ireta (54 page)

Fordeliton shook his head. “We were surprised, but Aygar said that he didn’t have much need for that sort of equipment. Nor did they request any power units suitable for a comunit of any current type.”

“On what frequency was Cruss broadcasting?” Kai asked suddenly. Sassinak raised her eyebrows with approval. When Borander gave the frequency, Kai smiled with satisfaction. “That was the frequency the expedition used, Commander.”

“Very interesting, indeed. Now how would our innocent Captain Cruss have learned that from the ‘message’ in the damaged homing capsule? I’ve read and reread the text. The frequencies were not included. He has well and truly used enough rope.”

Lunzie chuckled. “I wonder why Cruss is trying to contact people who don’t wish contact with him.”

“Could Aygar be playing a deep game?” Sassinak asked.

“I wouldn’t say he was playing any game,” Varian said, watching the frown on Kai’s face deepen at her remark. “He has stated his position quite clearly—this is his planet and he intends to remain on it.”

“More power to him if he can,” Sassinak replied. “Borander, my compliments to Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil. I think this is a matter for his skills.” As Borander went off on his errand, Sassinak turned to her guests. “Dupaynil’s Naval Intelligence. Varian, do the Iretans have any particular accent or provincial dialect? . . .” And when Varian reassured her, she continued, “My friends, too many attempts at planetary piracy have been successful, too many well-organized expeditions have appeared on planets which were not scheduled to be colonized for a half century. And—to be candid—generally not by groups which are amenable to observing Federated Charter obligations as regards ecology, minority, and nonaggression. The
unusual
circumstances of the
spontaneous
settlement are all reasonably explained—always after the fact, when the Federation is powerless to disband a by-then established, productive colony. The more we can discover about the
modus operandi
, the quicker we can squash the whole movement.”

“Are the heavy-worlders always the pirates?” Kai asked.

“By no means,” Sassinak replied, twirling her liqueur glass gently around on the damask table-covering. “But they have been the most successful at the game, usurping planets that were destined for other minorities. Ireta is a good case in point. Gravity is normal here.”

“That’s about the only thing that is,” Lunzie muttered under her breath.

“Be that as it may,” and Sassinak shot her relative a sympathetic glance, “Ireta is too rich a plum to be plucked by the fardling heavy-worlders! Let them find high-gravity worlds where their mutation is useful.”

“It would be quite valuable, then, to discover if a group has been organizing these piratical ventures?” Lunzie asked.

“Invaluable, my dear great-great-great-grandmother Lunzie, invaluable. Have you any ideas?”

“One which I see no point in discussing prematurely. It’s just that something you said is twitching a memory.” Lunzie flung up one hand in disgust at her inability to recall it. “I’d like to assist this Intelligence man of yours, if I may . . .” and her glance took in Varian and Kai as well as the commander.

Varian shrugged and looked to Kai.

“It would afford me considerable pleasure,” he said, “if we could thwart the planetary pirates.”

A discreet rap on the door was immediately acknowledged by Sassinak and a slim, swarthy man eased into the wardroom. After one quick glance around the table, he gave all his attention to his commander.

“Dupaynil, how would you like to pose as an Iretan, eager to admit the heavy-worlders to this planet?”

“The very thing to while away my tedium, Commander.”

“I apologize for the abrupt end to this exceedingly pleasant evening, ladies, gentlemen,” Sassinak said as she rose, her manner brusque, no longer suited to the elegant gown that swirled about her legs. “Lunzie, may we avail you of your offer? Ford, see our guests to their transport.”

“You will keep us informed of developments, Sassinak?” Kai asked, rising slowly and carefully.

“Indeed, she will,” Lunzie said with a little smile. “I’m a firm believer in ancestor worship.”

14

T
HE
next morning Varian and Kai called together all the survivors to explain their move back to the original campsite. The only one to protest was Aulia, and she did so at the top of her lungs, hysterically proclaiming that they were being transferred to their deaths where those hideous animals were ready to charge at them again, not to mention the things that had eaten Kai. At that point, even the insensitive Aulia became aware of the disapproval from all sides. Her monologue subsided into a rebellious mutter.

“Commander Sassinak has equipped us with attack-repulse force-screens,” Kai said, “and a device which is new to us but infallible in detecting aggression from any source. I think we can return in good heart. That site is, after all, where
ARCT-10
will search for us.”

“Kai,
ARCT-10,
you can’t honestly think we’ll ever see
them
again, do you?” Aulia’s voice was quite shrill.

The three youngsters tensed and looked intently at Kai, waiting for his response.

“Yes, I can honestly believe that the
ARCT-10
will return for us. This is an instance where no news can be construed as good news. Neither Captain Godheir nor Commander Sassinak found anything in their data banks about the loss of an EV. And such a loss would have been news galaxywide. Commander Sassinak has requested a Sector update with specific references to a position report on the
ARCT-10
.”

“In forty-three years the
ARCT-10
could be in another galaxy. Maybe that’s why no one has heard of it.”

“By the same token,” Lunzie called in a dry taunting voice, “it could have taken forty-three years to maneuver out of that cosmic storm.”

Eager to continue the attack, Aulia took a deep breath which she exhaled on a gasp as Portegin pinched her upper arm. Rubbing it, she turned to Triv. When she saw the set of his jaw and the irritation in his expression, she subsided into a petulant sulk.

“Now, we’d best organize the removal. The
Zaid-Dayan
people will be meeting us at the campsite at 0900. Let’s get cracking.”

Lunzie pointed a very stern forefinger at Kai. “You will be executive director of the proceedings. Seated here!” Her forefinger then indicated the stool by the hearth.

Kai grinned at her and made a show of assuming his command position.

It did not, in fact, take much time to secure the sparse furnishings in the shuttle, nor to pack oddments in the sleds. Varian was going to retain a two-man sled for her own use and keep a few basic necessities in the cave, to allow her to continue her observations, if weather and circumstances ever permitted. Kenley then arrived with other crew members from the
Mazer Star
to assist in the removal.

Triv was to pilot the shuttle, and firmly grasping the unrepentant Aulia by the elbow, propelled her into the shuttle. Lunzie followed “to deal with her, if necessary,” the medic said in an angry aside to Varian. Portegin brought up the rear, looking as glum as Aulia but for a different reason. Dimenon was to take Trizein, Terilla, and Cleiti in the four-man sled, along with Trizein’s accoutrements. Trizein was full of directions to the girls on what should be recorded on their outward trip, while Portegin would take one of the smaller sleds, giving Bonnard a driving lesson which, Bonnard allowed vehemently, was long overdue for a man fifty-eight years old. Margit and Kai were taking the other small sled, packed with whatever was left over.

When all were ready to take off, Kenley went up the ladder to the top of the cliff, determined to film the exodus and giff reaction to it. Weather permitting, he sourly amended. A black squall line was making its way across the inland sea. Varian, and another recorder, would remain in the cave. She was rather hoping that the Elder Three Giffs would enter the cavern, once the “big egg” had flown away. The shuttle’s takeoff could pose quite a cultural shock to the giffs, but its removal couldn’t be helped. The shuttle was an essential unit for the main campsite. Its departure would certainly give insights to giff intelligence and perception, parameters which Varian was eager to establish despite the considerable shock it would occasion the giffs.

The smaller sleds went first, buffeted a bit by the squall winds but flying quickly away from the turbulence. The heavier shuttle had to be turned, a maneuver Triv accomplished deftly, then it moved majestically from the cave, and rose with great dignity above the cliff. Varian grinned to herself: there was an element of unexpected theatricality in old Triv. She thought she heard a muted cry of astonishment from Kenley, but the wind had got up and she couldn’t be sure.

With the sleds and shuttle gone, the cave seemed barren, her small alcove an intrusion. She settled lightly on the stool, shifting the weight of the recorder to her shoulder. The vines billowed in, and a splatter of the morning rain reached her, misting across her face and hands, making the small hearth fire hiss. She was positive she heard giff cries, shrill and excited. Why hadn’t she thought to equip Kenley with a wrist unit so he could tell her what was happening. Yes, she did hear what could only be a whoop, and a completely human emission. Patiently she waited.

She was rewarded. Suddenly the vines were shoved aside as three large golden fliers glided in, coming to a halt a respectful distance from where the shuttle had nested so long. Varian grinned at her use of terminology as she recorded them. All Three Giffs stared at the empty space, their wings still half-extended. The end giffs turned their heads inquiringly toward Middle Giff who gave the equivalent of a shrug and neatly laid his wings to his back in a gesture that might be rendered as resignation to an unpleasant truth.

Then each of the giffs appeared sunk down on its legs, pulling its wings tighter to its body and retracting its neck slightly. Varian perceived an aura of sadness and disappointment about the giffs. A small sound, just at the audible level, came to her ears. It had to be emanating from the giffs for it was not a squall or wind noise: a sad and sorrowing note. So sad that Varian felt the short hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise and decided it was time to make a move.

She had just shifted the recorder when Kenley unexpectedly slid down the ladder pole. The giffs extended their wings, hissing and exclaiming so loudly that Varian was alarmed.

“Kenley, stand still! Spread out your arms! You’re peaceful!”

“I’ll say I am!” Kenley complied with her instructions but backed against the ladder as the nearest means of escape from the winged creatures obviously bent on attacking him.

To give him full credit, Kenley stood his ground while Varian dashed around the advancing giffs and jumped between them and Kenley.

“Don’t hurt him!” Varian cried, arms spread wide in front of the giffs to impede their progress. “You know me! You must know me.”

“What if they don’t remember you?” Kenley had grabbed the first rungs of the ladder.

“I’m friendly! You know me.” It took a tremendous effort for Varian to keep her voice friendly. The giffs were so close to her that she could smell the aroma of fish and spice that they exuded. Their long pointed beaks had raised slightly, and she was being regarded by very keen, hostile eyes. The midwing digits were flexing as if to seize her.

“I’m sorry I still don’t have any of the Rift grasses for you. Now is really not the time to appear before you empty-handed, but I didn’t expect Kenley to come flying down here before I’d had a chance to talk with you. Not that you could understand more than the tone of voice, but you do see that I’m trying to be pleasant and friendly. Don’t you?”

Middle Giff was towering over her, digits working, its head cocked slightly as it kept its right eye fixed on her.

“Krims, Varian, I don’t even have a stunner on my belt! What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to keep talking,” she said, smiling so broadly she felt her cheeks might crack. “And you’re not going to move a muscle unless they dive on me. Then you better move it up that ladder.” Her tone was lightly cheerful despite her ominous words, and when Kenley groaned, she added, “Don’t do that to me, friend. You be as cheerful as I am. They understand tone, and that wasn’t a good one. Okay?”

“I gotcha.”

Varian had to grin at the intensity of his rejoinder. Then very slowly she extended her hand.

“Now, let’s see if we can make the first overtures of what I hope will be a lasting friendship.” She watched Middle Giff’s body, flicking her glance to his wings briefly, but it was as curious about her next move as she was about the giff’s reaction to it. Moving with great precision, Varian touched the wing claw of the giff. It twitched but the giff did not retreat. Varian let her fingers drift from the claw to the wing surface. “Hey, you feel almost oily. It’s not like fur at all.”

“That thing has fur? I thought birds always had feathers.”

“There’s a point in evolution when fur was feathers or the other way round. Giffs are furred.”

Varian withdrew her hand from Middle Giff who had been regarding her with unblinking eyes. Now suddenly it blinked several times, for all the world like a small child which had steeled itself for an unknown experience and had received a pleasant surprise.

“There! That wasn’t so terrible now, was it?” she said, grinning in an honest reaction to its manner.

She turned her body toward the smaller giff and, allowing it time to withdraw, touched its wing claw lightly. It endured the contact but immediately took a small backward step.

“Okay, I get the message.” She looked at the other small giff and as if it sensed her intention, it, too, stepped back. “I receive you loud and clear.” She looked back at Middle Giff. “You’re the courageous one, are you?”

Something like a croon could be heard from Middle Giff. Its throat was vibrating.

“Oh, you agree with me, huh?” Slowly, once again, she extended her hand for the wing claw, its three digits lying loose. She took one between her thumb and forefinger and pressed very gently. “An Iretan handshake. First contact between species.”