The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Raking right it is. I got back especially so I could pry you out of here before the teams come in and dump such glowing reports on you that you feel obliged to listen.” She went back to the iris lock. “Cleiti! Did you organize those supplies for us? And where’s Bonnard?” The reply was inaudible to Kai but satisfactory to Varian, who nodded. “If he’s sure he’s got what he needs, tell him to pack it into the sled beside my things. Kai, where’s your pack? Ha! Thought so. Okay, what do you need?”

  Varian moved purposefully to his storage chest so that Kai pushed back his stool and waved her away. She stood, grinning but adamant, while he packed what he needed into his sleep sack, and gathered up his safety gear. With a courteous sweep of his hand, he indicated he was ready.

  “I knew I’d have to haul you out of here.” Varian sounded grimly smug.

  “Then what are you dragging your feet for?” asked Kai with a smile and exited before her. As an afterthought, he thumblocked the iris control. He didn’t really want anyone to happen across the message tapes with the Theks.

  As Varian neatly swung the big sled over the encampment, sparkling with the blue demise of insects, she groaned. “We should have brought a small unit for tonight. We’ll have to sleep in belt-screens!”

  “Not if we sack out on the sled floor,” said Bonnard, eyeing the space. “I think there’s room enough if we stack our supplies on the front seating and remove the side benches. Shall I activate the telltale?”

  “This once, we’ll leave it silent,” said Varian. “There wouldn’t be anything untagged this close to camp anyway.”

  A companionable silence enveloped the three and lasted the entire trip to the inland sea, which they reached just as the last speck of gloom, as Bonnard phrased it, began to fade from the sullen skies. Varian had marked a good landing site, a shallow terrace beyond and below the main congregation of the giffs but with a fine view of the summit where the netted fish were deposited.

  The first hour after sunset there was a brief surcease of daytime insect activity before the nocturnal creatures became a menace. During this interim, Varian heated their evening meal on the bare stone terrace. Then, to the amazement of Bonnard and the consternation of Kai, she removed dead branches from the storage section of the sled and lit a small fire.

  “Campfire is very comforting even if you ship-bred types think it’s atavistic. My father and I used to have one every night on our expeditions.”

  “It’s very pretty,” said Bonnard in a tentative tone, and looked toward Kai to see his reaction.

  Kai smiled and told himself to relax. Fire on shipboard was a hazard: his instant reflex had been to grab something to smother the flames, but as he eyed the small fire, which posed no danger to him, the dancing spikes were pleasantly hypnotic. The small warmth it exuded gave them a circle of light and certainly kept the insects away.

  “The oldest belt-screen in the world,” Varian said, poking the fire to fresh vigor with a stick. “On Protheon, they were particular about their firewoods, choosing those which gave off pleasant aromas. They liked scent with their warmth and light. I wouldn’t dare try that on Ireta.”

  “Why not?” asked Bonnard, his eyes fixed on a point deep in the flames. “Terilla said there’re some that smell pretty good—by Iretan standards. You know, Varian, I haven’t been able to smell anything but Ireta! D’you suppose Lunzie could be wrong and my nose has gone dead?”

  Varian and Kai both laughed. “You’ll know soon enough when we get back to the EV,” Varian told him.

  “Yeah!” Bonnard’s reply lacked any enthusiasm for return.

  “You’d be sorry to leave?”

  “I sure will, Kai, and it’s not because we’ll have to leave Dandy. There’s so much to do here. I mean, tapes are great, and better than nothing, but this trip I’m learning hundreds of things. Learning’s got a point . . .”

  “You have to have had the theoretical study before you can attempt the practical,” Varian said, but Bonnard waved that consideration aside.

  “I’ve studied basics till data comes out my pores, but it isn’t the same thing at all as being here and doing it!” Bonnard was emphatically banging his knee. “Like that fire, and all. Rakers, on shipboard you see flames and dash for the foamer!”

  Varian grinned at Kai and caught his rueful expression.

  “Your point’s taken, Bonnard,” she said. “And I think it’s safe to say that you’ll be in demand for more expeditions once Kai and I have made our report. Bakkun thinks highly of your performance as his recorder.”

  “He does?” Bonnard’s expression, which had soured at the contemplation of return to EV, brightened with such a future. “You’re sure?” His gaze went from Varian to Kai.

  “As far as you can be sure of a heavy-worlder.”

  “Are there more expeditions planned, Varian?” asked Bonnard urgently.

  “More or less,” she replied, catching Kai’s gaze. “I was signed on this tour for three expeditions requiring a xenob over a period of four standard years. You’d be eligible as a junior member in that time. Of course, you might opt for geology rather than xenob.”

  “I like animals,” said Bonnard, testing the words in his mouth so as not to give offense to either leader, “but I do like . . . sort of fancy the more scientific aspects of . . .”

  “I’d think you’d be best as an all-round recorder, with as many specialties in that area as possible,” said Varian, helping him.

  “You do?”

  His reaction made it obvious to Kai and Varian that it was the mechanics of recording that fascinated the boy, rather than any of the individual disciplines. They talked about specialization as the fire burned down, was replenished, and burned down again. By the time Kai suggested they sack out, the two leaders had assured Bonnard that they would give him as much opportunity at tape and recorders as possible to see if this was really where his interests lay.

  Safe under the sled’s protective screen, they slept deeply and without a bother from the night creatures of Ireta.

  Varian was aroused the next morning by something prodding her shoulder. She was still sleepy, but again she was prodded, more emphatically this time, and her name was whispered urgently.

  “Varian. Varian! Wake up. We got company.”

  That forced her to open her eyes which she instantly closed, not believing her first sight.

  “Varian, you’ve got to wake up!” Bonnard’s whisper was anxious.

  “I am. I’ve seen.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Have you moved yet?”

  “Only to nudge you. Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” They were both speaking in low tones. “Can you prod Kai awake?”

  “I don’t know how he wakes up.”

  Bonnard had a point. It wouldn’t do to rouse someone who erupted out of the sack like a torpedo. He’d known how to rouse her since he’d often done so when they’d first acquired Dandy.

  “Kai’s quiet if you do it as gently as you woke me.”

  Varian grinned to herself. She wasn’t sorry she’d included Bonnard on this trip. Last night’s discussion had proved how much he’d needed the encouragement as well as the opportunity to talk without reservations imposed on him by the presence of older team members or the two girls. It had been obvious last evening that Kai would have preferred to have made this a duet trip, and a complete break from the exigencies of leadership. Now she’d pried him away from his tape decks, she’d do it again, without a third party.

  They had slept head to foot, so while Bonnard prodded Kai’s shoulder with his foot, Varian whispered the warning to him.

  “Kai, wake slowly, don’t move. The observers are observed.”

  She had her eyes half-open now, because the giffs were so closely ringed about the sled that, in her first arousal, she had seen a series of bright black eyes on a level with hers.

  She almost giggled when a sharp orangy beak point tapped at the plascreen surrounding the sled, tapping g
ently as if not wishing to startle the sleepers.

  “Muhlah!” was Kai’s soft curse and there was a ripple of laughter in his tone.

  “Is it safe for me to have a look?” asked Bonnard in his hushed whisper.

  “Don’t know why not. They’re looking at us.”

  “Can they get in?” was Bonnard’s anxious question.

  “I doubt it,” said Varian, unperturbed. She wouldn’t guarantee that the plascreen could stand a concerted attack of heavier adult beaks, but she didn’t feel that aggression was the giff’s intent.

  “I thought you wanted to see their matutinal habits, Varian.” said Kai, slowly raising his head from the sleep sack to prop it on his hand. He wasn’t looking at her, but beyond her to the golden-furred faces peering in.

  “That was my intention.”

  “As I recall it, I asked you what if it was their rest day?”

  Varian couldn’t suppress her laughter and Bonnard joined in, never dropping his eyes from the giffs.

  “You mean, they’re taking the day off to watch us?”

  “They’re at least starting the day doing it,” said Varian, raising herself slowly out of the sack.

  The avians moved restlessly, wings awkwardly held up.

  “Hey, they can rotate the wings at the wrist . . .”

  “Yes, Bonnard, I’d noticed.” Varian had also seen the flexing of the three digits with the yellowed claws at the tips. The function of thumb and little fingers had been incorporated into the wing so Varian couldn’t see how they would be able to weave with the three wing digits.

  “Hey, they’re not all here,” said Bonnard, pointing up in a judiciously controlled gesture.

  None of the giffs were perched on top of the plascreen, so that the sky was clearly visible. Outlined against the clouds was a formation of giffs going in a southeasterly direction.

  “I think we’ve got the youngsters here,” said Varian.

  “The babes at that,” said Kai, pointing to the trail of brownish slime that drippled down the outside skirting of the sled.

  Bonnard muffled a chortle. “So what do we do now? I’m hungry.”

  “Then we’ll eat,” said Varian and began to pull her legs out of the sack, slowly, to give the giffs no reason for alarm. “Yes, they’re the young ones,” she said as she slowly got to her feet and stared down at the small bodies pressing in about the sled.

  Seen in proper perspective, she realized none of these giffs were adult-sized. The tip of the longest head crest came only to her waist. She’d estimated that a fully grown giff would be as tall as an average human with a wingspan of at least eight to ten meters.

  “What do we do?” asked Bonnard.

  “Sit up slowly. I’ll bring you breakfast in the sack,” she said, moving carefully to the supplies.

  Kai had pulled himself into a sitting position now and gratefully accepted the steaming beaker.

  “Breakfast with an audience,” he said, sipping.

  “I wish they’d move or talk or something,” said Bonnard, glancing nervously about him as he blew to cool the liquid in his beaker. He almost dropped it when one of the giffs stretched and flapped its wings suddenly. “They’re not even trying to get at us.”

  “Look but don’t touch?” asked Kai. “Frankly, I’d just as soon they kept to themselves. Those beak points look sharp.” He glanced at Varian, who had a small recorder in her hands now, and holding it at waist level was slowly turning a full circle, recording the faces of their audience.

  With equal care against sudden movement, she placed the recorder on one shoulder and turning again, stood so still for a long moment at one point that Kai asked what was up.

  “I’ve the recorder directed on the main summit. There’s quite a bit of activity there right now. I can’t see what it’s all about . . . oh, yes, I can. It’s the adults. I’d swear . . . yes . . . they’re calling this lot.”

  As reluctantly as any curious young creature, the juvenile giffs began to lumber awkwardly away, disappearing so suddenly that Bonnard cried out in alarm.

  “They’re okay, Bonnard,” said Varian who had a better view. “We’re right on the cliff edge. They’ve just walked off it and if you’ll glance over your shoulder, you’ll see them soaring away, perfectly safe.”

  “Muhlah!” exclaimed Kai with utter disgust. “We had ’em close enough and didn’t telltag ’em .”

  “What? And scare them into bringing momma and dad down on us? We don’t really need to telltag giffs anyway, Kai. We know where they live, and how far they range.” She patted the recorder. “And I’ve got their faces all on tape.”

  “They sure had a good enough look at ours,” said Bonnard. “I wonder if they’ll remember us next time.”

  “All furless, crestless faces look the same,” said Varian with a laugh.

  She was moving about the sled now without restraint and handed each a bar of subsistence protein. She perched on the pilot chair to munch hers.

  When they had finished eating, joking about the manner of their awakening, they made ready to leave the sled. Kai and Bonnard carried the recorders and additional tapes, Varian had her gift of the grasses. Kai also wore a stunner, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. Not, he thought privately, that he’d have much chance the way those giffs could move.

  As they emerged, the sun came through the cloud cover, for its morning inspection, Bonnard said. From the caves in the cliffs came hundreds and hundreds of golden fliers, as if called inexorably by the thin thread of sunlight. Bonnard quickly aimed the recorder and caught the spectacle of hundreds of giffs, wings raised, beaks open, caroling a curious warble as they turned in the sparse sunlight.

  “Ever seen anything like that before, Varian?” asked Kai in amazement.

  “Not quite like that. Oh, they are beautiful creatures. Quick, Bonnard, on the third terrace to the left, get that lot!”

  The giffs, one after the other, dropped off the ledge, wings spreading and lifting, soaring, turning over, as if letting each part of their bodies bathe in the sunlight. It was a slow aerial dance that held the observers spellbound.

  “They’ve got their eyes closed,” Bonnard said, peering through the focusing lens of the recorder. “Hope they know where they’re going.”

  “They probably have some sort of radar perception,” said Varian. She increased her face mask’s magnification to observe more closely. “I wonder . . . are their eyes closed for some mystical reason? Or simply because the sun is strong?”

  “Carotene is good for your eyes,” said Bonnard.

  Varian tried to recall if she’d ever seen a fang-face or one of the herbivores squint or close their eyes completely dur-ing sunshine. She couldn’t remember. Full sunlight was a rare enough occasion so that all human eyes were invariably on the sun. She’d check the tapes out when she got back to the camp.

  “Now, look Varian, only some of ’em are doing the flying act,” said Bonnard. He had swung around, recorder still operating, and focused on the juvenile giffs scratching about on the fish summit.

  One of them let out a squawk, tried to back away from something and, overbalancing, fell back. Its companions regarded it for a long moment as it lay, flapping helplessly.

  Without thinking, Varian began to climb toward the summit to assist the creature. She had put her hand over the top, when an adult giff, with a cry shrill enough to be a command, landed on the summit, awkwardly turning toward Varian. When she judiciously halted her climbing, the giff deftly flipped the juvenile to its feet with the wing claws. The wing remained a protective envelope above the young giff.

  “Okay, I get the message, loud and clear,” said Varian.

  A second grating sound issued from the adult giff whose eyes never left Varian.

  “Varian!” Kai’s call was warning and command.

  “I’m all right. I’ve just been told to keep my distance.”

  “Make it more distance, Varian. I’m covering you.”

  “It would have atta
cked me if it was going to, Kai. Don’t show the stunner.”

  “How would they know what a stunner is?” asked Bonnard.

  “Point! I’m going to offer the grass.” And slowly Varian took the rift grasses from her leg pouch and with great care held up the sheaf for the giff to see.

  The creature’s eyes did not leave hers, but Varian sensed that the grass had been noticed. She moved her hand slowly, to place the sheaf on the top of the summit. The giff made another grating noise, softer, less aggressive in tone.

  “You’re very welcome,” said Varian, and heard Bonnard’s snort of disgust. “Courtesy is never wasted, Bonnard. Tone conveys its own message, so does gesture. This creature understands a certain amount from both what I’m doing and what I’m saying.”

  She had begun to descend to the sled’s terrace level now, moving deliberately and never taking her eyes from the giff. As soon as she was back, standing with Kai and Bonnard, the adult giff waddled forward, took up the grass and then, returning to the sea edge, dropped off. Once it had sufficient wing room, it soared up again and out of sight among the other fliers.

  “That was fascinating,” said Kai on the end of a long-held sigh.

  Bonnard was regarding Varian with open respect.

  “Wow! One poke of that beak and you’d’ve been sent over the edge.”

  “There was no menace in the giff’s action.”

  “Varian,” said Kai, laying a hand on her arm, “do be careful.”

  “Kai, this isn’t my first contact.” Then she saw the worry in his eyes. “I am always careful. Or I wouldn’t be here now. Making friends with alien creatures is my business. But how I’m ever to find out how mature their young are if they’re this protective . . .” She stopped, whistled her surprise. “I know. The giff was protective because it’s used to protecting the juveniles. So, they’re not equipped to protect themselves at birth, or for some time thereafter. Still,” and she sighed her disappointment, “I would have liked to get inside one of their caves . . .”

  “Look, Varian,” said Bonnard in a whisper and indicated the direction with the barest movement of his forefinger.

  Slowly, Varian turned to see a row of juvenile giffs watching from the summit, wings in a closed position, tilted up beyond their backs, wing claws acting as additional supports to their sitting. Varian began to laugh, shaking her head and muttering about the observer observed.