“Go to hell!” Getz blustered.
“You can’t just walk out,” Kat said. “What about your students back on T-W 593? They trusted you, depend on you...” “They can go to hell, too! All of you can, especially you, McKelvey. They say blood is thicker than water. I hope it is. I hope you sell them out to the Saunders. They deserve it. They’re losers, just like you...”
Getz staggered into the hall, stumbling, grabbing his luggage. The cases bumped against walls as he made his way out of the wing. As his footsteps faded, there was a breathless hush. The only sound Dan heard was the mournful slash of rain on the window.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Doubts
Shock wore off. Imhoff’s people crossed the hall and came into Praedar’s suite to commiserate with their fellow multiracial group. Vahnajes soothed Ruieb-An. Whimeds huddled with Praedar, helping boil off his accumulated tension. Terrans sympathized with Joe, Kat, and Dan. Dan nodded mutely, still reeling from Getz’s parting shot.
Loser! That again!
What if the man was right? Was the project a loser, as Dan himself had been, all too often?
No! He wouldn’t take Getz’s say-so for that. This was a scientific war for survival, and his team was going to win. It had to.
Praedar emerged from his huddle and Imhoff told him, “One never knows how a colleague will stand up to the challenges of the field. You must not take this too much to heart.”
“I do not,” Praedar replied, very serene now. “But I must strive to understand.”
“What set him off?” one of Imhoff’s people wondered.
Another volunteered, “I saw Getz talking to Tavares earlier today. Whatever Greg said, it definitely shook Bill...”
“Perhaps Tavares pointed out what Getz already knew—that Jarrett will dissect him if he dares to present his material...”
“I ought to have seen this coming,” Kat said. “With my background in sociology, why didn’t I recognize the patterns? Bill’s always been abrasive, but...”
“It’s the Daust Effect,” Joe noted. “Trying to duplicate past triumphs and becoming desperate enough to falsify his data.” “Was it so?” Praedar asked, scowling. “Did he see only what he wished to see and hide the truth? We all must be wary of that temptation. It is not possible to avoid all bias. But we rise above it.”
“Bill didn’t,” Kat countered. “Isolated on T-W 593, he was able to fake it. Here, surrounded by other experts in his own field, everything fell apart for him. He’s being judged by a jury of his peers and found guilty. I’m afraid his career’s over.”
“Maybe the Saunders will take him in, if the Gokhale group won’t,” Imhoff’s chief aide said. He looked concerned for the Whimed’s team. “He might hurt you, though, through Feo and Hope and Tavares. They could use the implications of Bill’s desertion ...”
“Nope,” Dan argued. “Feo won’t back a dying horse—or a discredited xenoarch. From what you say, that’s Getz. The professional roof is falling in on our erstwhile effigy expert.” “Erstwhile?” Kat cut in. “Where did you pick up that term?” Dan feigned dull-wittedness. “Dunno. Musta read it someplace.”
“Huh!” Kat hugged him and laughed. “A lot of someplaces. What a faker you are!”
Imhoff’s people didn’t get the joke, but they laughed with her. After a while, they headed back toward their own quarters, leaving behind a mood of camaraderie and lightened spirits. The sense of belonging, of being a part of this community affected Dan. Not all his kindred had snubbed him after his father’s financial rain. But from that point on, much of the family closeness he’d formerly known had vanished. The lack was an unhealed wound. Now, out on the borders of explored regions, he had found a new family, one linked to him not by genes, but by affection and purpose.
Thoughts of that purpose, and the damage Getz might do to it, sobered him. “How are the other attendees going to react to this?” he asked. “Won’t it look bad for us?”
“Not necessarily,” Joe reassured him. “This isn’t the first time something similar has happened to an expedition, and it won’t be the last. Stress and ego problems and personality quirks can throw a lot of xenoarchs off base, especially when they’re stuck on a remote field dig. The other teams will guard their mouths. They won’t hit us, because they may have to deal with the same thing, eventually.”
“Getz... urr... er-ror of mind func-tion,” Ruieb said. He wasn’t as spooked as he had been, but was still noticeably upset. “Cor-rection... urr... must be sup-plied.”
A logical attitude for a Vahnaj, even a progressive one. The lutrinoids exercised tyrannical control over aberrant citizens. Terrans had learned, belatedly, that Quol-Bez, the first Vahnaj Ambassador to Earth, had been deliberately maimed in crucial mental and emotional faculties before he had been sent to the humans. The Ambassador had voluntarily accepted that crippling; it assured that he could never reveal his species’ secrets to a then-unproved alien race. Such drastic corrections were common in his Alliance, particularly among the mentally ill. Unlike Quol-Bez’s sacrifice, most corrections were demanded, not undertaken willingly. It was natural that Ruieb-An, bom in that culture, expected that Getz’s flaw would be fixed, with or without Getz’s cooperation.
Patiently Kat explained, “Correction will be supplied if Bill wants it. In Terran law, Ruieb, mind error isn’t automatically crushed.”
“At least not on the highly developed Settlements,” Dan said softly. Kat and Joe shot him warning looks and he didn’t elaborate. They were right. There was no point in telling Ruieb how some back-of-nowhere Terran planets handled their aberrants. Basically they didn’t. Those settlers were far from modem psy-chomed aid and too busy battling hostile environments to pamper noncontrib citizens, even if the illness wasn’t the disturbed person’s fault. Exile was the usual answer. And exile, on an untamed world, was a death sentence. Getz, a product of sophisticated circles and honored for his past achievements, would be treated more gently.
Dan tried to turn the subject. “Well, it looks as if it’s just the five of us from here on. So what’s next, Praedar?”
“We adjust. We proceed.” It was flat. No wasted breath would be spent on matters that couldn’t be helped.
Praedar’s determination inspired his remaining teammates. They figuratively picked themselves up and prepared to go on.
Bad news traveled fast. They had to run a gauntlet in the Assembly building the next morning. Saunder supporters, news hounds, and general attendees pelted the group with questions as soon as they arrived in the hall. Even while Dan and the others were straightening out the mess Getz had left when he’d yanked his “effigy specimens” out of the exhibit, the vultures hovered, sharpening their claws.
“This must be an inconvenience, Juxury, to say the least.. “May we have a comment, Dr. Olmsted?”
“Are you sure you want to stay with such a dangerous project, Hughes? Obviously, working under those harsh conditions does serious harm to one’s brain...”
“McKelvey, Getz says you have no valid credentials. Care to confirm or deny?”
Like his colleagues, Dan fended off the attackers. In his case, he cloaked himself in that mantle of Terra’s uncrowned royalty, playing the Saunder-McKelvey princeling for all he was worth. “One must make allowances for mental infirmities, mustn’t one? We shouldn’t be too hard on the afflicted...” He tried to let pitying disdain for Getz blunt the critics’ barbs.
Some gadflies didn’t give up easily. A pro-Saunder reporter continued to badger Dan, digging hard into the matter of formal education and degrees until Ramdas stepped in. The revered dean of Terran xenoarchaeology sniffed at the news hound. “Degree? Hardly an essential. Read Harte’s thesis. Experience! That’s what counts. A willingness to get out there and dig. If you’d ever done any of that, you’d understand.” Then Ramdas rounded on a scientist who was nagging at Kat. “Nora! I’m ashamed of you, my dear. When were you last on a field project? You’re safe and sound at Saunder Institute on Mars,
running lab checks. That’s background science, not the cutting edge. I fail to see why any of you have the presumption to challenge your colleagues who are taking the risks...” The old man’s presence daunted the vultures. One by one they crept away, before he turned his scorn on them. Ramdas winked and nodded to Praedar.
“Score one for our side,” Kat whispered.
As the crowd shifted off to other interests, Joe said, “I heard an update from one of the Gokhale team. They are taking Bill in—temporarily. They’ve agreed to transport him as far as Alpha Cee and drop him at his old university. I gather Bill’s holed up in Gokhale Institute’s shuttle right now, refusing to come out for fear of traitors.”
“What thin partitions,” Dan muttered. Kat nodded.
She wasn’t the only one who’d overheard him. Tavares was walking past the exhibit, and he paused and commented, “Maybe Getz isn’t paranoid or crazy. There are a lot of backstabbers at the Assembly...”
“You ought to know,” Dan retorted.
Tavares flushed, but stuck to his guns. “Look at it this way. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise, Getz’s data being so obviously flawed, or he might have resigned when he realized he was attached to a go-nowhere project. You do have a talent for attracting the... uh... unstable elements of our field, luxury...” Satisfied with his telling counterthrust, Tavares made himself scarce.
He wasn’t the last of the gloaters. But the amount of jeering tapered off as Assembly business began.
Jarrett, Getz’s professional rival, expressed his regret to Praedar’s team. The xenoeffigy specialist seemed genuinely sorry that a fine researcher had come upon hard times. “Causal awareness. Bill forgot that,” Jarrett said. “He refused to see what he was looking at. I knew as soon as I saw those specimens that he was in trouble. Effigies! Ridiculous!” The scientist studied Dan and went on. “He mentioned your theory that those pieces of glass are some sort of electronics. True?”
Dan glanced at Praedar for guidance, fearful of putting his foot in his mouth and hurting the expedition. The Whimed indicated he should explain. “Not electronics.” Dan said. “Something like that, yes. It’s just a hypothesis, so far.”
Jarrett was encouraging. “I’ll be looking forward to your future presentations on the subject. Sounds interesting. The next Assembly?”
When the effigy specialist moved on, Dan let out the breath he’d been holding. “How did I do?”
Kat’s smile eased his worry. “More than all right. You’re learning the game nicely. When in doubt, hint that you’ll be publishing—later. Much later.”
Imhoff’s presentation took up the bulk of the morning’s programming. The format was a preview of tomorrow’s scheduled sessions by the T-W 593 team and the Saunders. Imhoff, like Praedar, was a broad-overview xenoarchaeologist and his group was multispecies. However, he’d been able to bring two dozen of his people to the Assembly; eight of them were reading papers covering numerous subject fields. It was a crowded three hours, punctuated by lively question-and-answer sessions. Imhoff himself delivered his team’s general summary of findings, and finished with a sharp poke at certain attendees. “Judgments from those who have not dealt directly with a site are always suspect. Before one can obtain an accurate view of a dig, one must be in the field and operate in the milieu of the dedicated excavator.”
That brought an outburst of applause and some negative grumbles from splitters and die-hard lab denizens.
Praedar had insisted on his team’s sitting in on Imhoff’s sessions, both out of courtesy and interest. But the length of Imhoff’s material meant that the T-W 593 reps had to hurry to get to their midday meeting with the sponsors on time.
Their rush was wasted. When they arrived at the room the Teran-Whimed Council had reserved, they found a previous meeting was running late. Praedar’s group was forced to cool their heels for nearly half a local hour. Finally they were shown inside by a stony-countenanced Whimed staffer.
“You do not bring the Vahnaj Ruieb-An?” Anelen hit them with that when Praedar and the Terrans were halfway through the door.
Praedar returned Anelen’s stare levelly. “No.” He didn’t bother adding that Ruieb was conferring with his fellow Vahnajes and wouldn’t have had time to be at this gathering anyway. Anelen appeared to take Ruieb’s absence as a victory, as if his disapproval had kept the lutrinoid at bay.
Both Whimeds at the table agreed to dispense with translation devices and speak Terran English, the language of the Assembly. That was no strain for Praedar, who was fluent in the alien tongue. Anelen wasn’t. His accent was thick, his syntax abrupt and tortured. Dan wondered if that might not cause misunderstandings.
Jon Eckard toyed with a min-vid file recorder. “I don’t suppose Ruieb’s attendance is necessary. Besides, it’ll save us a lot of messy sparring,” he said, glowering at Anelen. The beefy former Fleet officer patted the file. “We’ve entered your requests, Juxury. The formalities. Naturally, we’ll be attending your presentation to get a feel for your project’s update. No decision here. The usual time lag. Full Council hearings won’t be for another two Earth months...”
“You have starship,” Anelen broke in.
In the best of circumstances, a Whimed in a bad mood tended to worry a Terran. Now Dan’s gut went cold.
“Our scheduled transportation was unavoidably delayed,” Praedar said in a calm, reasonable tone. “Replacement was required.”
“Makes sense to me,” Eckard agreed, wanting to push on.
“Credits. You buy ship? Not in budget,” Anelen said. His burning gaze shifted to Dan, Kat, and Joe. All of them tensed.
Who had told him about the starhopper’s registration? Feo? Tavares? A news hound? Ito had the sources. She could have ferreted out the ship’s shadowy status easily.
“Required,” Praedar repeated. “A temporary title transfer.”
Jon Eckard winked at his aides. “So that’s the deal. I kind of wondered, but that spells it out. The old stunt, huh? Well, as long as there’s no fallout, no problem.”
At least he was being cooperative! The man was a spacer as well as a bureaucrat. He knew the little fictions settlers had to use to get along out here.
Anelen, though, wanted to quibble. “Illegality?’
To Dan’s surprise, Praedar lied like a trooper. “No. Payment was made. Arrangements for extended purchase. No budgetary difficulty.”
The Whimed sponsor’s eyes dropped to the vid file holding Praedar’s request for dig license renewal and funding. It was a none-too-subtle threat.
Praedar counterattacked, and Dan saw why it had been crucial for the boss to attend this Assembly in person. The felinoids reverted to their own language, a low-voiced, growling, rapid-fire exchange. Anelen and his staff reacted strongly. Their star-burst eyes widened as Praedar apparently hammered home his reasons for “buying a starship”—and why that must not alter the Council’s decision regarding the expedition. Anelen listened with jaw agape, looking spellbound.
Suddenly all the Whimeds were on their feet, going into a convulsive though amicable huddle.
Obviously Praedar’s charisma worked just as well on his own kind as it did on non-Whimeds.
Eckard moved his chair slightly away from the whirling mass of felinoids. “I’ll let them thrash that out their way. I’m more interested in this thing with Getz.”
Kat took the lead on that. “Dr. Getz’s resignation was by mutual choice, Councilman. You might call it an internecine disagreement, one that won’t affect the project’s aims in the slightest. In fact, I believe we’ve gained ground, now that we have Dan aboard.”
“Mm. Maybe so. Can’t hurt, adding a McKelvey to your publications’ rosters...”
The huddle broke up as suddenly as it had started, and Anelen rushed toward the Terrans. He came to a halt with his nose scant centimeters from Dan’s and examined the pilot minutely. “McKelvey. Yes. It is balance. Saunder-Nicholaiev. Saunder-McKelvey.” Praedar smiled enigmatically. Dan hoped that meant
he’d done his part at impressing Anelen.
Eckard skillfully channeled talk onto other matters. Why had it taken so long for the project to get its equipment in working order? That drew an angry response. The Terran councilman grunted. “Hmm. I see. Well, these things happen. Dirty work at the cross vectors. Never can prove anything. You scientists ought to be above such stuff, but I know you aren’t.” He leaned back, his expression veiled. “By the way, can you estimate when that planet of yours might be available for general colonization? Our staff is getting a lot of developmental proposals. Wozniak Corporation in particular has put together an impressive package...” Dan sensed this was a spot where family connections might do the job. “Wozniak,” he said, pretending to search his memory. “Ah, yes. That’s a division of Saunder-McKelvey Interstellar. Don’t they already own some major territory in this region?” “You mean T-S 311?”
“Among other worlds,” Dan replied, gauging Eckard carefully. “I imagine the Council has to stay on its toes in such cases. You wouldn’t want a repeat of the Sixth T-W Sector fracas..
The former Fleet officer grimaced. “Hell, no! We can’t afford any more blowups like that'. If Nakamura Kaisya or the Societe Famille gets a whiff of undue favoritism toward your kin...” Dan smiled, communicating his empathy with Eckard’s worries in that regard.
Kat added, “The Council’s watchdog committee assigned us specifically to guard the T-W 593 aborigines. Any large-scale influx of offworlders would smack of exploitation, and..
“Feo and Hope Saunder say those natives are subhumanoid. That’d take them out of the nonexploitation clause.” Was Eckard rattling their cages to see if they’d yell?
‘ The Saunders are incorrect,” Pfaedar said flatly.
Remains to be proved, doesn’t it? As I say, Anelen and I will be paying cjose attention to your presentations—and the Saunders’. Have to consider all the arguments. I mean, the Council’s allotment isn’t open-ended, you know. We have to pick and choose our projects for the best prospects of success.” Eckard tapped the vid files once more.
Juanita Coulson - [Children of the Stars 04] Page 23
