Uncharted Territory (2 page)

“Forcible confiscation of property,” I said, holding them away from him. “Looks like you could’ve taken your time this morning and not gone off in such a hurry you forgot ours.”

I handed the binocs back to Bult, and just to be contrary, he handed them to Carson, but the rover was close enough now we didn’t need them.

It roared up in a cloud of dust, skidded to a halt right on top of a roadkill, and the driver jumped out and strode over to us without even waiting for the dust to clear.

“Carson and Findriddy, I presume,” he said, grinning.

Now usually when we meet a loaner, they don’t have eyes for anybody but Bult (or C.J., if she’s there and the loaner’s a male), especially if Bult’s unfolding himself off his pony the way he was now, straightening out his back joints one after the other till he looks like a big pink Erector set. Then, while the loaners are still picking their jaws up out of the dirt, one of the ponies keels over or else drops a pile the size of the rover. It’s tough to compete with. So we usually get noticed last or else have to say something like, “Bult’s only dangerous when he senses your fear,” to get their attention.

But this loaner didn’t so much as glance at Bult. He came straight over to me and shook hands. “How do you do,” he said eagerly, pumping my hand. “I’m Dr. Parker, the new member of your survey team.”

“I’m Fin—” I started.

“Oh, I know who
you
are, and I can’t
tell
you what an
honor
it is to meet you, Dr. Findriddy!”

He let go of my hand and started in on Carson’s. “When C.J. told me you weren’t back yet, I couldn’t wait till you arrived to meet you,” he said, jerking Carson’s hand up and down. “Findriddy and Carson! The famous planetary surveyors! I can’t believe I’m shaking hands with you, Dr. Carson!”

“It’s kind of hard for me to believe, too,” Carson said.

“What’d you say your name was, again?” I asked.

“Dr. Parker,” he said, grabbing my hand to shake it again. “Dr. Findriddy, I’ve read all your—”

“Fin,” I said, “and this is Carson. There’s only four of us on the planet, counting you, so there’s not much call for fancy tides. What do you want us to call you?” but he’d already left off pumping my hand and was staring past Carson.

“Is that the Wall?” he said, pointing at a bump on the horizon.

“Nope,” I said. “That’s Three Moon Mesa. The Wall’s twenty kloms the other side of the Tongue.”

“Are we going to see it on the expedition?”

“Yeah. We have to cross it to get into uncharted territory,” I said.

“Great. I can’t wait to see the Wall and the silvershim trees,” he said, looking down at Carson’s boots, “and the cliff where Carson lost his foot.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” I asked.

He looked back and forth at us in amazement. “Are you kidding? Everybody knows about Carson and Findriddy! You’re famous! Dr. Findriddy, you’re—”

“Fin,” I said. “What do you want us to call you?”

“Evelyn,” he said. He looked from one to the other of us. “It’s a British name. My mother was from England. Only they pronounce it with a long
e.”

“And you’re an exozoologist?” I said.

“Socioexozoologist. My speciality’s sex.”

“C.J.’s the one you want then,” I said. “She’s our resident expert.”

He blushed a nice pink. “I’ve already met her.”

“She told you her name yet?” I said.

“Her name?” he said blankly.

“What C.J. stands for,” I said. “She must be slipping,” I said to Carson.

Carson ignored me. “If you’re an expert on sex,” Carson said, looking over at Bult, who was heading for the rover, “you can help us tell which one Bult is.”

“I thought the Boohteri were a simple two-sex species,” Evelyn said.

“They are,” Carson said, “only we can’t tell which one’s which.”

“All their equipment’s on the inside,” I said, “not like C.J.’s. It—”

“Speaking of which, did she have supper ready?” Carson said. “Not that it makes any difference to us. At this rate we’ll still be out here tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Of course,” Evelyn said, looking dismayed, “you’re eager to get back to headquarters. I didn’t mean to keep you. I was just so excited to actually meet you!” He started off for the rover. Bult was hunched over the front tire. He unfolded three leg joints when Evelyn came up. “Damage to indigenous fauna,” he said. “Seventy-five.”

Evelyn said to me, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Hard not to in these parts,” I said. “Bult, you can’t fine Evelyn for running over a roadkill.”

“Running over—” Evelyn said. He leapt in the rover and roared it back off the roadkill, and then jumped out again. “I didn’t see it!” he said, peering at its flattened brown body. “I didn’t mean to kill it! Honestly, I—”

“You can’t kill a roadkill just by parking a rover on it,” I said, poking it with my toe. “You can’t even wake it up.”

Bult pointed at the tire tracks Evelyn’d just made. “Disruption of land surface. Twenty-five.”

“Bult, you can’t fine Evelyn,” I said. “He’s not a member of the expedition.”

“Disruption of land surface,” Bult said, pointing at the tire tracks.

“Shouldn’t I have come out here in the rover?” Evelyn said worriedly.

“Sure you should,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder, “’cause now you can give me a ride home. Carson, bring in my pony for me.” I opened the door of the rover.

“I’m not getting stuck out here with the ponies while you ride back in style,” Carson said.
“I’ll
ride in with Evelyn, and
you
bring the ponies.”

“Can’t we all go back in the rover?” Evelyn said, looking upset. “We could tie the ponies to the back.”

“The rover can’t go that slow,” Carson muttered.

“You’ve got no reason to get back early, Carson,” I said. “I’ve got to check the purchase orders, and the pursuants,
and
fill out the report on the binocs you lost.” I got in the rover and sat down.

“I lost?” Carson said, getting red in the face again. “I laid ‘em—”

“Expedition member riding in wheeled vehicle,” Bult said.

We turned around to look at him. He was standing beside his pony, talking into his log. “Disruption of land surface.”

I got out of the rover and stalked over to him. “I told you, you can’t fine somebody who’s not a member of the expedition.”

Bult looked at me. “Inappropriate tone and manner.” He straightened some finger joints at me. “You member. Cahsson member. Yahhs?” he said in the maddening pidgin he uses when he’s not tallying fines.

But his message was clear enough. If either of us rode back with Evelyn, he could fine us for using a rover, which would take the next six expeditions’ wages, not to mention the trouble we’d get into with Big Brother.

“You expedition, yahhs?” Bult said. He held out his pony’s reins to me.

“Yeah,” I said. I took the reins.

Bult grabbed his log off his pony’s saddlebone, jumped in the rover, and folded himself into a sitting position. “We go,” he said to Evelyn.

Evelyn looked questioningly at me.

“Bult here’ll ride in with you,” I said. “We’ll bring the ponies in.”

“How on hell are we supposed to bring three ponies in when they’ll only walk two abreast?” Carson said.

I ignored him. “See you back at King’s X.” I slapped the side of the rover.

“Go fahhst,” Bult said. Ev started the rover up and waved and left us eating a cloud of dust.

“I’m beginning to think you’re right about loaners, Fin,” Carson said, coughing and smacking his hat against his leg. “They’re nothing but trouble. And the males are the worst, especially after C.J. gets to ‘em. We’ll spend half the expedition listening to him talk about her, and the other half keeping him from labeling every gully in sight Crissa Canyon.”

“Maybe,” I said, squinting at the rover’s dust, which seemed to be veering off to the right. “C.J. said Evelyn got in this morning.”

“Which means she’s had almost a whole day to give him her pitch,” he said, taking hold of Bult’s pony’s reins. It balked and dug in its paws. “And shell have at least another two hours to work her wiles before we get these ponies in.”

“Maybe,” I said, still watching the dust. “But I figure a presentable-looking male like Ev can jump just about any female he wants without having to do anything for it, and you notice he didn’t stay at King’s X with C.J. He came tearing out here to meet us. I think he might be smarter than he looks.”

“That’s what you said the first time you saw Bult,” Carson said, yanking on Bult’s pony’s reins. The pony yanked back.

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” I said, going over to help. “If he wasn’t, he’d be here with these ponies, and
we’d
be halfway to King’s X.” I took over the reins, and he went around behind the pony to push.

“Maybe,” he said. “Why wouldn’t he want to meet us? After all, we’re planetary surveyors. We’re famous!”

I pulled and he pushed. The pony stayed put. “Get moving, you rock-headed nag!” Carson said, shoving on its back end. “Don’t you know who we are?”

The pony lifted its tail and dumped a pile.

“My
shit!”
Carson said.

“Too bad Evelyn can’t see us now,” I said, holding the reins over my shoulder and hauling on the pony. “Findriddy and Carson, the famous explorers!”

Off in the distance, to the right of the ridge, the dust disappeared.

It took us four hours to make it into King’s X. Bult’s pony keeled over twice and wouldn’t get up, and when we got there, Ev was waiting out at the stable to ask us when we were going to start on the expedition. Carson gave him an inappropriate-in-tone-and-manner answer.

“I know you just got back and have to file your reports and everything,” Ev said.

“And eat,” Carson muttered, limping around his pony, “and sleep. And kill me a scout.”

“It’s just that I’m so excited to see Boohte,” Ev said. “I still can’t believe I’m really
here,
talking to—”

“I know, I know,” I said, unloading the computer. “Findriddy and Carson, the famous surveyors.”

“Where’s Bult?” Carson asked, unstrapping his camera from his pony’s saddlebone. “And why isn’t he out here to unload his pony?”

Evelyn handed Carson Bult’s log. “He said to tell you these are the fines from the trip in.”

“He wasn’t
on
the trip in,” Carson said, glaring at the log. “What on hell are these? ‘Destruction of indigenous flora.’ ‘Damage to sand formations.’ ‘Pollution of atmosphere.’”

I grabbed the log away from Carson. “Did Bult give you directions back to King’s X?”

“Yes,” Ev said. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong?!” Carson spluttered.
“Wrong?!”

“Don’t get in a sweat,” I said. “Bult can’t fine Ev till he’s a member of the expedition.”

“But I don’t understand,” Ev said. “What did I do wrong? All I did was drive the rover—”

“Stir up dust, make tire tracks,” Carson said, “emit exhaust—”

“Wheeled vehicles aren’t allowed off government property,” I explained to Ev, who was looking amazed.

“Then how do you get around?” he asked.

“We don’t,” Carson said, glaring at Bult’s pony, which looked like it was getting ready to keel over again. “Explain it to him, Fin.”

I was too tired to explain anything, least of all Big Brother’s notion of how to survey a planet. “You tell him about the fines while I go get this straightened out with Bult,” I said, and went across the compound to the gate area.

In my log, there’s nothing worse than working for a government with the guilts. All we were doing on Boohte was surveying the planet, but Big Brother didn’t want anybody accusing them of “ruthless imperialist expansion” and riding roughshod over the indidges the way they did when they colonized America.

So they set up all these rules to “preserve planetary ecosystems” (which was supposed to mean we weren’t allowed to build dams or kill the local fauna) and “protect indigenous cultures from technological contamination” (which was supposed to mean we couldn’t give ‘em firewater and guns), and stiff fines for breaking the rules.

Which is where they made their first mistake, because they paid the fines to the indidges, and Bult and his tribe knew a good thing when they saw it, and before you know it we’re being fined for making footprints, and Bult’s buying technological contamination right and left with the proceeds.

I figured he’d be in the gate area, up to his second knee joint in stuff he’d bought, and I was right. When I opened the door, he was prying open a crate of umbrellas.

“Bult, you can’t charge us with fines the rover incurred,” I said.

He pulled out an umbrella and examined it. It was the collapsible kind. He held the umbrella out in front of him and pushed a button. Lights came on around the rim. “Destruction of land surface,” he said.

I held out his log to him. “You know the regs. ‘The expedition is not responsible for violations committed by any person not an official member of the expedition.’”

He was still messing with the buttons. The lights went off. “Bult member,” he said, and the umbrella shot out and open, barely missing my stomach.

“Watch it!” I jumped back. “You can’t incur fines, Bult.”

Bult put down the umbrella and opened a big box of dice, which would make Carson happy. His favorite occupation, next to blaming me, is shooting craps.

“Indidges can’t incur fines!” I said.

“Inappropriate tone and manner,” he said.

I was too tired for this, too, and I still had the reports and the whereabouts to do. I left him unpacking a box of shower curtains and went across to the mess.

I opened the door. “Honey, I’m home,” I called.

“Hello!” C.J. sang out cheerfully from the kitchen, which was a switch. “How was your expedition?”