The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  As Kai and Bakkun lifted in their sled, Kai saw Varian on her way down to the corral. He saw the herbivore, Mabel, busily eating her way through what trees remained in the enclosure.

  Bakkun, who preferred to pilot, brought the sled on its southeast heading.

  “Why didn’t our Theks know this planet’d been cored?” the heavy-worlder asked.

  “I haven’t asked our Theks if they know. But Ireta was not marked as surveyed.”

  “Theks have their reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  “I do not presume to guess,” replied Bakkun, “but they always have good reasons.”

  Kai liked Bakkun as a teammate; he was inexhaustible, cool-headed like all his race, thorough and dependable. But he had no imagination, no flexibility and once convinced of anything, refused to change his opinion in the face of the most telling facts. Theks were, to him as to many of the short-spanned species, infallible and godlike. Kai did not wish, however, to enter into any argument with Bakkun, particularly on such a heresy as Thek fallibility proven in the existence of seismic cores on this planet.

  Fortunately the telltale bleeped. Bakkun automatically corrected course and Kai watched the remote-distance screen attentively. This time they found more herbivores running away from the sled’s whine through the thick rain forest, occasionally caroming off trees so hard the top branches shuddered wildly.

  “Come round again, Bakkun,” Kai asked and flipped up the tape switch, hanging in against his seat strap as Bakkun acted promptly to his order. He swore under his breath because none of the creatures crossed any of the clearings, al- most as if they expected an aerial attack and were crowding under whatever cover they could find.

  “Never mind, Bakkun. Continue on course. I thought I saw another flank-damaged beast.”

  “We see them daily, Kai.”

  “Why didn’t you mention that in your reports?”

  “Didn’t know it was important, Kai. Too much else to mention bearing on our job . . .”

  “This is a joint effort . . .”

  “Agreed, but I must know how to contribute. I didn’t know the mere ecological balances were essential knowledge, too.”

  “My omission. But you would do well to report any unusual occurrence.”

  “It is my impression, Kai, that there is nothing usual about Ireta. I have been a geologist for many standard years now and I have never encountered a planet constantly in a Mesozoic age and unlikely to evolve beyond that stage.” Bakkun gave Kai a sideways glance, sly and mysterious. “Who would expect to find old cores registering on such a planet?”

  “Expect the unexpected! That’s the unofficial motto of our profession, isn’t it?”

  The sun, having briefly appeared in the early morning to oversee the beginnings of day, now retired behind clouds. A local ground fog made flying momentarily difficult as conversation was discontinued. Kai busied himself with the seismic overlay, checking the old cores, which faintly glowed on the screen in response to his signal.

  The cores advanced beyond the line of flight, right down into the Rift Valley, subsiding with the floor which composed the wide plateau. They were entering the valley now and Bakkun needed all his attention on his flying as the thermals caught the light sled and bounced it around. Once past the line of ancient volcanoes, their plugged peaks gaunt fingers to the now lowering rainclouds, their slopes supporting marginal vegetation, Bakkun guided the sled toward the central Rift Valley. The face of the fault block exposed the various strata of the uplift that had formed the valley. As the little sled zipped past, saucily irreverent to the frozen geohistory, Kai was filled with a mixture of awe and amusement—in awe of the great forces still working which had formed the rift and might very well reform it many times imaginable in the existence of this planet; and amusement that Man dared to pinpoint one tiny moment of those inexorable courses and attempt to put his mark upon it.

  “Scavengers, Kai,” said Bakkun, breaking in on his thoughts. Bakkun gestured slightly starboard by the bow. Kai sighted the display on the scope.

  “Must be the golden fliers, not scavengers.”

  “There is a difference?”

  “Indeed there is, but what are they doing a couple of hundred kilometers from the nearest large body of water?”

  “Are they dangerous?” Bakkun asked, with a show of interest.

  “I don’t think so. They are intelligent, showed curiosity in us yesterday, but what are they doing so far inland?”

  “We shall soon know. We’re closing fast.”

  Kai slanted the scope to take in the groups on the ground. The fliers were now alerted to the presence of an unfamiliar aerial object, and all the heads were turned upward. Kai saw threads of coarse grass hanging from several beaks. And, sure enough, as the sled circled, their elongated heads curiously followed its course. Some of the smaller fliers pecked again at the grass.

  “Why would they have to come so far? For a grass?”

  “I am not xenobiologically trained,” said Bakkun in his stolid fashion. Then his voice took on a note of such unusual urgency that Kai swung round, scope and all, and instinctively recoiled against the seatback. “Look!”

  “What the . . .”

  The Rift Valley narrowed slightly where a horst protruded. Then, from the narrow defile one of the largest creatures that Kai had ever seen emerged, its stalky, awkward gait frightening in its inexorable progress. Sharpening the scope for the increased distance, Kai watched as the colossus strutted on its huge hind legs into the peaceful valley.

  “Krim! That’s one of those fang-faced predators.”

  “Observe the fliers, Kai!”

  Loath to withdraw his wary observation of the menace, Kai glanced up toward the golden fliers. They had assumed a curiously defensive formation in the sky. Those still grounded now grazed, if that could be considered a proper description for the quick scooping jabs. Varian must be right about the bill pouches, Kai realized, for the fliers’ beaks had an elongated appearance. They must be stuffing the grasses into the pouches.

  “The predator has seen them! Those still on the ground cannot get airborne in time if he should charge.” Bakkun’s hand closed on the grip of the laser unit.

  “Wait! Look at him!”

  The heavy predatory head was now pointed in the direction of the fliers, as if the beast had just noticed their presence. The head tilted up, evidently registering the formation of the golden fliers. The creature’s front legs, ludicrously small in comparison to the huge thighs and the length of the long leg bone, twitched. The thick, counterbalancing tail also lashed in reaction to the presence of the fliers. Almost greedily, Kai thought. The biped remained stationary for another long moment, then dropped awkwardly forward and began scooping up the grasses with its ridiculous forepaws, cramming great wads, roots, earth and all into its huge maw.

  While the two geologists watched, the fliers began to run along what Kai now distinguished as a low bluff. They dipped almost to the grasses below before becoming safely airborne.

  “They are trailing more grass, Kai.”

  The leader focused the scope and saw the streamers trail- ing from hind- and wing-tip claws as the fliers beat steadily upward and away from the valley.

  “Is that a seaward course they’re on, Bakkun?”

  “They are. And against a stiff headwind.”

  Kai turned back to the browsing predator who hadn’t paused in his voracious consumption of the grass.

  “Now why would both fliers and that monster need the grass?”

  “It does seem an unusual additive,” replied Bakkun, oblivious to the fact that Kai had been talking to himself.

  “Would you set the sled down, Bakkun? At the other end of the valley from the beast. I want to get some samples of grass.”

  “For Varian? Or Divisti?”

  “Maybe for both. Strange that the predator didn’t attempt an attack, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps it does not like flier meat. Or maybe they are f
ormidable antagonists?”

  “No. There was no hint of attack in the predator’s manner, and only wary defense in the fliers. Almost as if . . . as if both recognized this as a place apart. That there was a truce here.”

  “A truce? Between animals?” Bakkun sounded skeptical.

  “That’s what it looked like. But the predator is certainly too primitive to operate on such a logical basis. I must ask Varian.”

  “Yes, she would be the proper person to query,” said Bakkun, his composure restored. He brought the sled to a smooth landing on the low bluff the fliers had used to take off.

  “We are not golden fliers,” the heavy-worlder said in response to Kai’s surprise at the landing spot. “That creature may decide to season its grass with us.” He smoothly took over the scope. “You collect. I will watch.”

  The monster had not interrupted its feeding nor paid any attention to the sled. Kai dismounted with alacrity and, thumbing off his force-screen, began to gather grass. He was glad he had gloves because some of the blades had sharp edges—relatives to the sword plant, he decided. One clump came up, roots, earth and all, adding a new high to the malodorous air. Kai shook the earth free, remembering the birds had taken only the tops, not the root. Although the fliers had not gone in for the thicker-bladed vegetation, Kai took samples of everything in the vicinity. He stored what he garnered in a container and resumed his place on the sled.

  “Look, he has not stopped eating grass, Kai,” said Bakkun, returning the scope to him.

  As Bakkun eased the sled off the bluff and into the air, Kai kept the scope on the predator. It continued eating, not even lifting its head as the two geologists passed over it.

  Bakkun, having been given no orders to the contrary, navigated the sled through the narrow end of the valley. Beyond, the ground fell away again to a lower level without such luxuriant growth, the soil being sandier and supporting more of the tough shrub-type vegetation.

  “The cores continue down this valley, Kai,” said Bakkun, drawing his attention away from the monster and to the business at hand.

  Kai looked at the seismic scanner. “Last one just beyond that far ridge.”

  “This Rift Valley is very old,” said Bakkun. Kai was pleased to hear the half-question in the man’s voice. “And the cores end beyond the ridge?”

  “Indeed they do.”

  It was the first time Kai had ever heard uncertainty in a heavy-worlder’s voice. He understood it and sympathized, for he felt much the same way himself.

  The overthrust above which they now passed had occurred at least a million years before their arrival on this planet. Yet the manufacture of the core unit was undeniably Thek. Unless, and the stray thought amused Kai, the Theks had somehow copied an older civilization . . . the Others? The Theks as copyists restored Kai’s sense of proportion. As he couldn’t expect to compete with heavy-worlders on a physical basis, he ought not to compete with Theks on a longevity performance. The here and now were important, too: twice, trebly important to him considering how short a span he could anticipate, even with all the miracles of science. He and his team had a job to do now on Ireta. Never mind that it had been done before when Man was still at the single-cell stage swimming about at the beginning of a long evolutionary climb.

  4

  WITH the help of Paskutti and Tardma, Varian managed to dress Mabel’s flank wound. The beast had somehow managed to loosen the edges of the filmseal, and, despite the force-screen over her corral, bloodsuckers had attached themselves to the suppuration. She had opened the wound further in her frenzy to free herself from the ropes the heavy-worlders used to restrain her. They had to lash her head to her uninjured hind leg before Varian could approach her.

  Fortunately, once she dislodged the bloodsuckers, Varian thought the flesh looked healthy enough.

  “I’m going to wash down and seal the entire leg,” she told Paskutti, who was heaving with his exertions. “Just as well I’m vetting the bitten instead of the biter. Hate to run into him.” She thought of the wicked head and the rows of vicious teeth glaring out of the frame Kai had taken.

  “This creature couldn’t put up much of a fight,” said Paskutti.

  The edge to his tone surprised Varian into looking at him. She didn’t expect to see any emotion registered on the heavy-worlder’s blank features, but there was an intensity in his pale eyes that gave her a momentary stab of fear. She got the distinct impression that the man was excited in some bizarre and revolting fashion, by the wound, by the concept of one animal eating another, alive. She turned back quickly to her task, loath to let Paskutti know she’d observed him.

  They completed the veterinary work on Mabel without further struggle, but her tail, when she was released from the ropes, lashed out so viciously that they all retreated hastily beyond range. Without the proximity of her well-wishers, Mabel seemed unable to continue her aggressive behavior. She stopped mid-bellow and peered about her, as if puzzled by this unexpected respite. Her near-sighted eyes scanned so consistently above their heads that once they stood still, Varian realized that Mabel would never see them. Mabel’s worst enemy then, Varian decided, was much larger than the herbivore’s considerable bulk and was generally perceived by smell to judge by the rapid dilation of Mabel’s nostrils.

  “What now, Varian?” asked Paskutti as they left the corral.

  In his very lack of tone color, Paskutti seemed to be impatient for her answer.

  “Now, we check out what creatures inhabit the unknown land beyond the shield so that Kai and his teams can set up secondary camps. We’ve the sled today, Paskutti, so if you’d get tapes, we can do some prospecting.”

  “Weaponry?”

  “The usual personnel defense. We’re not hunting. We’re observing.”

  She spoke more harshly than she intended because there was an avid intensity about Paskutti’s innocent question that was off-putting. Tardma was as blank as ever, but then she never did anything, including smile, without glancing for permission from Paskutti.

  As they reentered the encampment for their equipment, Varian saw the children grouped about Dandy’s enclosure, watching Lunzie feed it. Its thick little tail whisked this way and that either in greed or in enjoyment.

  “Is Dandy eating well?”

  “Second bottle,” said Bonnard with possessive pride.

  “Lunzie says we can feed him when he gets to know us a bit better,” Cleiti added, and Terilla nodded, her bright eyes big with such an incredible experience to anticipate.

  Poor ship-bred wench, thought Varian, whose childhood had been spent among the animals of many worlds with her veterinarian parents. She couldn’t remember the time when she hadn’t had animals to cuddle and care for. Small creatures brought to her parents for healing or observation had always been her particular charges once her parents had decided she was a responsible youngster. The only creatures she had never liked were the Galormis. Her instinct for animals had warned her the moment those soft devils had been discovered on Aldebaran 4, but as a very junior xenob, she had had to keep her own counsel on her suspicions. At that she’d been lucky. She only had teeth marks on her arm where the Galormi that had attacked those in her dome had begun its nocturnal feeding. The creature had already killed its handler; its hollow incisors had proved to contain a paralytic with which it controlled its victims. Fortunately the night guard, alerted to trouble by the nonappearance of his relief, had roused her expedition, and the Galormis had been caught, contained and later exterminated. The planet was interdicted.

  “We’ll see how Dandy behaves himself first, Terilla,” said Varian, firmly believing in an old adage, “once bitten, twice shy.” The originator had not had the Galormis in mind, but the application was apt.

  “How’s Mabel?” asked Lunzie, sparing Varian a glance.

  Varian told her. “We’re scouting north today. Kai’s teams will have to set up secondary camps soon, but we don’t want them encountering fang-faces, like the ones that ate Mabel. Also,
the geology teams are supposed to report in if they sight any wounded beasts, so give us a toot right away, will you, Lunzie?”

  The physician nodded again.

  “Couldn’t we come with you, Varian?” asked Bonnard. “If you’ve the big sled? Please, Varian?”

  “Not today.”

  “You’re on compound duty, and you know it, Bonnard,” said Lunzie. “And lessons.”

  Bonnard looked so rebellious that Varian gave him a poke in the arm, and told him to shape up. Cleiti, more sensitive to adult disapproval, nudged him in the ribs.

  “We got out yesterday, Bon. We’ll go again when it’s proper.” Cleiti smiled up at Varian, though her expression was wistful.

  A nice child, Cleiti, Varian thought as she and the heavy-worlders continued on to the storage shed for their equipment. Varian checked the big sled, despite the fact that Portegin had serviced it that morning.

  They were airborne in good time, just after the morning’s first downpour. As seemed to be the rule on Ireta, the clouds then reluctantly parted, allowing the yellow-white sunlight to beat down. Varian’s face mask darkened in response to the change of light and she stopped squinting. Sometimes she found the curious yellow light of cloudy daytime more piercing than the full sun’s rays.

  They had to fly ten kilometers beyond the radius of the encampment before the telltale began to register life forms, most of them already tagged. The “dead” perimeter had been expanding ever since they landed as if knowledge of the intruders had been slowly disseminating among the indigenous animals. This was a slow-cop world, Varian thought, for on more . . . civilized, was that the word she needed? Advanced, yes, that was more accurate. On more advanced worlds, the news of strangers seemed to waft on the outgoing wind of their descent, and inhabitants made themselves scarce . . . Unless, of course, it was an intelligent, nonviolent world where everyone gathered around to see the new arrivals. Sometimes the welcome would be discreet, not defensive nor offensive, but distant. Varian thought of the defensive screen around the domes and snorted to herself. The thing wasn’t needed—except to keep insects out. At least not under present circumstances, when the animals stayed far away. Maybe the solution to Kai’s problem was simply to establish the physical secondary camp, complete with small force-screen, give the local wildlife a chance to drift away from the area and then let his teams move in.