Juanita Coulson - [Children of the Stars 04]

by Past of Forever (epub)

  “They’ve added a lot since we were here in ’50,” Joe said.

  “Yes.” Praedar’s stare bored holes through that covered dig.

  “Must be nice,” Kat muttered. “Peel off some petty cash and use cheap local labor to beef up the facilities and impress one’s colleagues.” Snickers on every side seconded her assessment of how the Saunders had created this amazing sub-Settlement.

  “Convenient, eh?” a scientist named Jarrett said. His comment dripped contempt.

  Getz snapped. “You’re jealous. You’d jump at a chance to have such conveniences on your dig.”

  Jarrett smirked. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t. You seem to have forgotten the prime tenet of field xenoarch: Nothing worth finding is easily dug.”

  Reddening, Getz said, “No rule says we have to grub like peasants...”

  Others diverted the conversation before it got out of hand.

  Getz was still glowering at Jarrett when they reached the parking area.

  Apparently, during the trip, the Saunders had decided to humor Praedar as they would a short-tempered eccentric. They were ready when his team alighted from their bus. Hope said sweetly, “No doubt you’ll want to set up your exhibits before you go to your rooms. Very sensible. Get the tiresome necessities out of the way before you relax at tonight’s opening ceremony. ..” “Quite right,” Feo chimed in, snapping his fingers. “Rehan! Your people are to assist Dr. luxury’s expedition. His materials are very valuable. Priceless! Nothing must be damaged, or you will answer to me personally. Understood?” Rehan made a low obeisance, eager to fulfill his boss’s command. Praedar started to protest. Feo refused to hear. “We won’t take no for an answer, Juxury, and that’s final.”

  Hope grabbed hands, saying “We have so much to do. We’ll see you this evening...”

  Feo patted Dan’s shoulder. “Wonderful that you’re here, my boy. Adds a real touch of family to the occasion ...”

  Without giving anyone a chance to reply, the Saunders rushed away, a gaggle of staffers at their heels.

  Rehan bowed again, this time to Praedar, awaiting orders.

  It took a lot of persuasion to convince Praedar to accept the* flunkeys’ help. But it was a good thing the team had those extra hands before they were finished unloading and carrying exhibit materials into the main hall. All of the new arrivals had boosted their compensation meds several times during the exhausting process. One by one, Praedar’s scientist friends on the welcoming committee made their excuses and left to attend to their own business. Manufacturers’ booths and other expeditions’ exhibits were shuttered in the darkened display section by the time the T-W 593 team had everything set up. Their late arrival made for an overrushed schedule; and they had little time in which to recuperate, because the Assembly was due to begin very soon.

  Rehan showed them to their reserved quarters. Guest units were generally assigned on species lines. One wing of one building, however, housed multispecies groups. There were only two of those, that headed by Karl Imhoff, and Praedar’s.

  The staffers made pests of themselves, demonstrating the luxurious accommodations, bowing, scraping, and offering to help the team unpack. They were got rid of with great difficulty.

  Feo had spared no expense. His rivals had a huge suite, with roomlets to house all fifteen team members who were supposed to attend. There were fully stocked food and drink dispensers and privacy eating cubicles for Vahnajes and huddle circles for Whimeds. Praedar peered around the sprawling array and summed it up succinctly: “Wasteful.”

  “We could operate our dig for months on what the Saunders spent furnishing just this one suite,” Joe agreed.

  “My cousin’s proving how generous he can afford to be,” Dan said.

  “Intimidating us, you mean,” Kat exclaimed.

  “Well, it won’t work,” Getz said. “And you can tell your kinsman that for me, McKelvey.” He tossed his luggage into one of the roomlets and went on. “None of it will work. Not the Saunders’ posturing or Jarrett and his cracks. Oh, I know what he’s up to, him and his bunch of young turks. I’ll rip them to shreds!”

  “Maybe,” Kat said, sotto voce. In a normal tone, she added, “We won’t even put in an appearance if we don’t hurry.” She tapped a chronometer. “About one-half local hour to get cleaned, dressed, and back over to the main hall.”

  They ran through unpacking, sonic showering, and selecting what they’d wear to the evening session. Dan was grateful for the current fad of dressing down; it made his best clothes fit right in with the prevailing styles here. He boosted his meds again, and, only slightly late, he and the rest joined the stream of beings heading across the sky walks.

  Feo’s architects had designed the passageways to protect while providing an evocative view of their employer’s world. Late-aftenoon rainfall freshened the nearby alien woodlands, scenting the breeze. Cries of native fauna echoed. T-S 31I ’s blue-white star rested on the ocean horizon, reflecting on whitecaps. The sticky-sweet odor of the flower beds wafted through the skywalk like a heavy perfume. Dan hoped his kinsman was overdoing it. So much emphasis on Saunder wealth might well backfire, making less affluent scientists jealous. That hostility could benefit Praedar.

  The main building contained meeting rooms, auditorium, exhibit area, and registration. A small army of Saunder student diggers manned the registry comps, playing junior hosts and hostesses. They were efficient, greeting attendees, passing out ident packets, and recording names and images. Everything flowed smoothly.

  Until Dan reached the desk...

  Procedures suddenly slowed to a crawl. Scientists and news hounds, watching, murmured uneasily. Snatches of their conversation hung in the oxygen-heavy air. “McKelvey..“Saunder’s kinsman...” “Trying to insult luxury’s expedition... ?” “Unheard of...” “Rude . ..”

  Kat demanded action from the students on duty. “What’s the problem? Surely not a shortage of membership packets. We’re preregistered for fifteen beings, and Praedar gave you Dan’s data when we arrived...”

  Praedar’s mesmerizing stare was in high gear. The registrars squirmed as the alien said, “Our expedition’s xenomechanician is an essential participant.”

  Dan bit back a laugh. Xenomechanician? That was a good one! One of Feo’s students stammered that she had no category listing for that specialty. Dan put on his best Saunder-McKelvey princeling tone. “It’s a brand-new designation. And perhaps you’re looking for my name under the wrong alphabetical division. Try McKelvey instead of Saunder-McKelvey. That’s Daniel Morgan McKelvey.”

  Seething, Kat said, “Hurry up! I’ll vouch for him. Didn’t the Saunders say you were to render us every assistance?”

  “Found it!” a registrar exclaimed in relief. “Sorry for the delay. Comp troubles.”

  Praedar’s smile was frightening. He murmured a barely civil thanks. Feo’s students turned to process the next beings in line with indecent haste, plainly glad to be done with Daniel Morgan McKelvey.

  Dan looked through the hard-won packet. It contained a thick program book, professional journal excerpts, manufacturers’ promos, and , bio-files of the attendees. The materials were printed in five humanoid languages—no Ulisorians were members of the United Species Scientific Conference Society— and several important dialects. No one could complain that his or her race was being slighted. The nature of the contents testified to the attendees’ literacy.

  Kat was still grumbling about the registrars’ ineptitude. “Totally uncalled for. What did Feo and Hope think they were doing with that little stunt?” She fussed with Dan’s badge, affixing it to his breast pocket.

  “No harm done,” he said. “I can remember, though, when you tried not to vouch for me.”

  She sniffed and made a wry face. “Familiarity can breed more than contempt, given enough time.” Kat led him to a holo-mode portrait gallery and called up entries. The display offered a full roster of Assembly guests. Transbuttons converted voice-over intros to any language the
viewer selected. Lifelike tri-dis formed and disappeared smoothly. The first image was that of a white-haired older Terran male.

  “Imhoff, Karl. Doctor of Xenoetymology, Todd Saunder Science Foundation. Life Master, Regan Saunder-Griffith Remote Research Institute. Past President of the Fellowship of...” Kat spoke under the servo voice. “Karl’s an old friend of Praedar’s and Chen’s.”

  “He heads up the one other multispecies dig here, doesn’t he?”

  “Correct. Mixed expeditions are rare, too rare,” Kat said. “Single species digs have a limited capability of interpreting xeno cultures, as the Saunders’ dig amply proves.”

  A second holo took shape. “Tawnay of Hoyoo, Matriarch of the Combined Exalted Xenoexploration Division Investigating Ruins on Paab...”

  Armilly’s fur-kinship aunt. Dan had met her briefly at the shuttleport. She was a grim-visaged procyonid twice Armilly’s size and five times as loud. He didn’t blame his expedition’s furry young scientist for giving her a wide berth.

  The next image was that of a regally imposing Whimed male. “Anelen. Director, Terran-Whimed Xenoethnic Council, Chairman of the Academy of Whimed Xenoarchaeological Endeavor, Founder of...”

  “One of Praedar’s sponsors,” Dan murmured, recalling what he’d learned in T-W 593’s vid library.

  Kat nodded, looking solemn. “He’s one we have to sell to renew our dig license. And Anelen also has control of grant dispersals for Praedar’s project. His support is crucial. As if we don’t have enough problems, Feo and Hope have been cozying up to Anelen shamelessly the past few years. They flatter him in their articles, do favors for his people, you name it. They don’t need his grants or licenses. They’re simply trying to undercut us.

  The one consolation is that Anelen doesn’t like most Terrans.” She glanced at Dan and added, “But he may be impressed by you. That’s what we’ve lacked—a Saunder-McKelvey on our team.” Dan scowled, no more convinced that was a scoring point than he had been earlier.

  Another holo showed a burly Terran wearing the badges of C.S.P. Administration Central.

  “Ion Eckard,” Dan said, before the voice-over did. “He’s your other major licenser.”

  Kat muted the gallery’s intro. “Yes, a fairly generous guy. But he’s been under pressure lately from would-be colony developers. That worries us.”

  “It should,” Dan said. He studied Eckard’s portrait. “I think I’ve met him, but I’m not sure where.”

  “Maybe that’ll be useful. I hope it was an amicable encounter.” Kat sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to go through these dances with licensing boards and grant dispensers ...”

  “That’s the way the sector functions,” Dan said, sympathizing. “We all have to dance for somebody. For me, it’s been dispatchers.” He noted the miniaturized attendee lineup and IDs. “Looks like more than half these people are sponsors, manufacturers’ reps, or reporters.”

  “Typical,” Kat acknowledged. “It’s a bigger turnout than most remote-world Assemblies attract. All four of the science vid-pubs sent reporters. And there are more sales reps than I anticipated, too. I suppose it’s because Feo and Hope are hosting the show. They are a draw.”

  “So few scientists, in comparison,” Dan commented, still eyeing the board.

  “And not all of those are diggers, not by a long-handled shovel. Many are labbers. They stay safe on their institutes’ home worlds and analyze and publish data shipped in by field teams.” Kat didn’t hide her disdain. “Catch any of them taking the risks we do.”

  Risks! Some of them unexpected and unavoidable. He knew she was thinking of Chen’s tragic death. Dan tried to get her mind off that. “I guess I assumed there’d be a bigger crowd.”

  Kat shook her head. “We’re a tiny discipline. The smart students opt for straight archaeology and dig on their origin planets. We have to hunt all over the sectors for sites of probable unknown cultures. Then we wade through light-years of red tape to get the permits and funding. The competition is fierce for too few promising sites...”

  “Like T-W 593 and T-S 311.”

  “By unwritten tradition, T-S 31I ought to be an extension of Praedar’s dig,” Kat said, her expression angry. “Money can do amazing things. Feo just ‘happened’ to acquire a special license permitting his operation here—after Praedar had already established the existence of a xenocivilization in this region, years earlier. It’s not fair! And look at the way some attendees bootlick Feo and Hope. The Saunders manage a science foundation, handing out grants to deserving candidates. That sort of thing makes beggars out of people I once thought were honest independents.”

  Taking a deep breath, she cued the holos again, creating and destroying facsimiles: Quas-Jin, a Vahnaj scientist attached to the New Earth Renaissance Projects; Svejar, a Whimed of some fame; Jarrett, an up-and-coming effigy specialist, one of Getz’s rivals; York, an expedition leader who criticized Praedar’s theories. Retur of Whimed; and a dozen or so more.

  Dan watched in silence awhile, then said, “They’re giants. I’ll sound like a cretin alongside them.”

  “You have something they don’t.”

  “Being a Saunder-McKelvey? That and a credit might get me a cup of caffa on a backward Settlement. I’d trade the name for some solid scientific credentials,” Dan admitted.

  “You already have them, so stop whining,” Kat scolded. “You’re our xenomechanician. That’s not a joke. You do have a specialized background in a field none of those giants is familiar with. And despite your complaints that you lack an education, you do pretty damned well. That shipboard library of yours proves you’re no fool, so it’s logical Praedar—and I—expect you to be more than a mere handsome face and famous name.” She chopped her hand through the holo beams, ending the show, and stomped out of the gallery.

  Dan easily overtook her. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, charmer?” The brunette peered up at him quizzically as he said, “So you think I’m handsome, huh? And here I thought Sheila was the only woman on the dig who appreciated my sterling qualities.” Kat broke into giggles, then clapped her hands over her mouth until she regained her poise. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as they entered the main hall side by side.

  The building’s central section was designed for quick alteration that could create a number of individual lecture rooms. Tonight the walls had been raised and stored in the high ceiling. A crowd milled around in the resulting staging area. Scientists, media reps, and salespeople collected on dozens of refreshment islands, exchanging greetings with old acquaintances and introducing themselves to new ones. Species tended to congregate with their own kind, though there was some cross-socializing. Transbuttons and the medias’ lens pendants were everywhere. Two currents worked against each other. One, a chauvinistic, separatist influence, gathered like minds and races. The second pushed them together, to debate and learn. To Dan, the philosophy of xenoarch ought to make all these beings willing to encounter fresh ideas and contact other species. But that countering current was powerful, raising the tension level considerably.

  Many news hounds gravitated toward the Assembly’s two multispecies groups, Imhoff’s and Praedar’s. Their eclectic nature made them sure-fire visual hits. Praedar, in particular, came in for a lot of attention. He fielded questions smoothly, switching languages and tone to suit the interviewer. Dan drew his share of questions, too. Joe and Kat also balanced shop talk with miniinterviews, as did Ruieb-An with Vahnaj “information seekers.” Getz played the game with his team for a time, then wandered off and got into a lengthy, heated discussion with Jarrett and his fellow effigy specialists.

  The scene was a blend of sight, scent, and sound, wild varieties of clothing and exotic cosmetics, clashes of food, drink, and alien body odors, and muted music of all types. A babble of voices argued with a constant hum of trans devices.

  “... haven’t adequately considered K versus R reproductive strategies, and they’d better not publish till they do...”

  “... sh
e selected her materials in eroded tuffs. Did you ever hear such idiocy?”

  “... interesting to see if a Lannon can handle that subject calmly...”

  “... sourcing wasn’t adequate for conclusions, and if he goes public now he’ll wind up..

  “... really think there is a universality in humanoid facial responses? Wouldn’t have imagined it’s quantifiable...”

  Dan wanted to listen to a dozen conversations at once. He couldn’t. News hounds continued to comer him, asking the same things, generally innocuous stuff. It seemed odd that they all landed on the same points.

  “That’s right. I’m Morgan McKelvey’s grandson on the Jutta Lefferts bloodline. Feo? He’s my third cousin..

  And around him, the fascinating give and take went on.

  “... Kaatje, overlook the need for simplicity. Harte’s laws of xenosocio extrapolation explicitly state...”

  “... understand Quas-Jin is going to report on the latest work at Saunderhome and Varenka Saunder’s efforts to clone Jael Saunder. Ought to be...”

  “... iconoclast, or so Ruieb-An’s viewed by mainstream Vahnaj science. True, Dr. luxury?”

  That thrust came from a particularly persistent pop-sci news hound. Praedar checked to be sure Ruieb was preoccupied with fellow Vahnajes before he replied. “The most successful Vahnaj innovators have always been those you term iconoclasts. They expanded the horizons of antiquarian research to the benefit of every species’ knowledge.” Diplomatically he glanced at Dan.

  The Terran caught the cue expertly. “Quite so. One of Ruieb-An’s predecessors in his exploration society sent out the original Vahnaj star probes, centuries ago. If he hadn’t, my ancestor, Todd Saunder, might never have made contact with an extraterrestrial civilization. And we humans would still be puttering around our own little stellar backyard. It puts a humbling light on our alleged importance in the cosmic picture, doesn’t it?” The reporter looked uncomfortable, and Dan went on. “Dr. luxury often reminds us that we must keep our focus on the larger scene. That’s what xenoarch is all about—relating to the past and selecting the right data so that it all makes sense.”