The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  “I thought exploratory teams were equipped with belts to protect them from—”

  “I don’t know whether his belt was activated or not,” said Varian severely in a tone that implied she intended to find out if any basic precaution had been neglected.

  “If he doesn’t die in the first few hours, then the punctures reached no vital areas and he’ll survive. If you’re near the original campsite, find a squat thick-trunked plant with leaves like this: they are covered with a soft down or fuzz.” He neatly sketched the leaf with which the giffs had supplied them. “Gather the thickest ones, squeeze them directly over the punctures and keep repeating the treatment until the wounds seal.”

  “I’m told he’s running a very high fever . . .”

  “Use an antipyretic, of course. When that didn’t reduce the fever, one of the original members of our group used a parasitic purple moss which usually grows on the north side of the green plum or yellow-juice melon trees. There ought to be some nearby. Boil the moss, let it steep, and get it down the man’s throat. Tastes vile but it will reduce fever.”

  Aygar rose, shifted the burden of meat on his shoulders and started off.

  “End of interview,” Varian murmured to herself. She was too relieved by the information he’d given her to take offense at his curt departure or his lack of real surprise at seeing her again so soon the same day.

  She scrambled up the side of the ravine and back into the safety of the sled as fast as if a fringe had been homing in on her blood warmth.

  Terilla’s fringes! The same aquatic life-form that the giffs took care to avoid when caught in their grass nets. And if the creature was basically amphibious, no wonder it had lasted a long time after the other water-breathers had died. But that had been a small creature, like an almost transparent kerchief. Yet Varian recalled all too vividly the voracity with which the sea fringes had flung themselves after the reflection of the sled on the water. She stared at her hand a moment as if she could imagine what that same fringe could do, folding itself into a sucking envelope . . .

  She shook her head: she was suffering the depression and enervation of the post-Discipline state. She reached for more of the pods and munched slowly at the beans: they were even more satisfying than the sweet fruit.

  Purple moss, huh? That same purple moss that had grown in Divisti’s wall, no doubt. She wondered if she’d taken enough, but at least she knew what to harvest.

  The trip was exceptionally profitable though one discovery displeased her a great deal: forty-three years was a long time for ARCT-10 to have remained missing. And not long enough for a small sea creature to develop into something large enough to attack a man. To be sure, the larger species might have existed on Ireta when the expedition had first landed; they’d barely explored the continental basement shield area before the mutiny.

  Varian shuddered again, reminding herself that one reason for her revulsion of the fringes must in part stem from her experience with the blood-sucking Galormis—by day so friendly, by night deadly.

  The rain cleared and the omnipresent mists dispersed as the setting sun took a final look at the world it had spawned. The giffs were behind and above her, their golden selves glorious against the muted haze of the western twilight. She hadn’t noticed them when she was on the compound bluff, nor when she had intercepted Aygar. Nonetheless she felt they’d made the entire journey discreetly within sight of her.

  Krims! but she was tired. Now, if she could keep her wits about her, and the light held long enough to land inside the cave . . . Other giffs whirled up from their vantage points to escort her the last few kilometers, and she was touched by the courtesy, if that’s what it was. Had the giffs, as well as Lunzie, worried over her long day’s absence?

  She made a good landing, considering she was aiming her sled into a dark hole, faintly illuminated on the left by a small campfire. She let the sled down at the far right, bumping just once as she misjudged the uneven stone floor.

  “Is Kai improving?” she called as she flipped open the canopy.

  “Yes, but we’ve run out of leaves again,” Lunzie said, rising from her position beside Kai’s bundled form.

  “I’ve more and food besides. And a helluva lot to tell you.”

  “Any equipment?”

  “No, but I have a specific remedy for that fever.” Varian took the purple moss from the piles of food in the sled, offering it to the medic who accepted it skeptically.

  “This?” Lunzie smelled it. “Why?”

  “Highly recommended by a local resident.” Varian grinned wearily at Lunzie’s reaction. “Yes, I ran one down. Oh, it’s all right. I made out that I was one of a relief team. He’s Bakkun’s grandson.” She offered the information with a huge grin, as if it were the best joke in the galaxy.

  Lunzie fingered the moss for a few more seconds before she searched Varian’s face. “Grandson!”

  “Yes, we cold-slept forty-three years.”

  “Well, it’s not much longer than I’d estimated,” Lunzie said, and Varian was deflated by the medic’s calm acceptance. “What else have you here?” Lunzie peered at the dark mounds in the sled.

  “Everything’s edible, and this sort of pod bean tastes better than the fruit. Just how is Kai?” she asked, struggling out of the sled and trying not to stagger too much as she crossed to Kai’s supine body. “Has he recovered consciousness yet?” She all but collapsed beside him.

  “No, but the fever is down a little. Hold still a moment,” Lunzie said. Before Varian realized what the medic was doing, she felt the spray icily stinging her arm.

  “You shouldn’t waste it. I’ve so much . . .”

  “It’s no waste,” Lunzie was saying, her voice getting farther away as consciousness left Varian. “You can’t see yourself but you’re drained white. Did you use Discipline all day long?”

  5

  VARIAN came awake by degrees: the first one being her awareness of voices in low earnest conversation, either too far from her for the individual words to be audible or too soft, to keep from rousing her. She thought to get up, but it proved difficult to assemble the energy. Could she have been in cold sleep again? No! She was resting, rather comfortably, on a bed of springy boughs, not the flat plasfloor of the space shuttle or the dust of the cave. She felt an occasional breeze waft across her face and exposed hands.

  She didn’t feel so much tired as disinterested. Yet, in the back of her mind, a spark started with the observation: she had so much to tell Lunzie. Sneaky of her to knock Varian out like that.

  She continued to listen and realized that two men were speaking. Then Kai was better! It was good to hear him. But he wouldn’t be well enough in three days’ time to join her against Aygar. They’d better wake Portegin and get the technician functioning. No way was she meeting Aygar, and whoever accompanied him, in three days’ time without strong support. And if she was this tired after a day’s use of Discipline, would she recover sufficiently in three to draw on that inner reserve again?

  What was it about Aygar’s manner that bothered her? The expression in his eyes had been wary, speculative, evaluating, not at all the reaction she might have expected from a man making first contact with off-world visitors! That was it! He had been expecting someone. Not her. And not someone who could best him in personal combat.

  Varian became conscious of a rich, nutty smell. Her stomach began to rumble and her mouth to salivate. She stirred restlessly, keenly aware that she was very hungry.

  “I told you that the stew would get to her,” Lunzie said suddenly. Varian opened her eyes.

  Lunzie, Triv, and Kai made a semicircle on one side of the crude hearth, complete now with a spit and crane from which a pail hung.

  Varian propped herself up on one elbow. “Whatever it is, I’m starving.”

  “Lunzie mixed a bit of everything you brought in, and it turned out very tasty indeed,” Triv said, filling a smoke-hardened fruit shell with the mixture. He presented this to Varian and, with a
flourish, added a rudely carved wooden spoon.

  “The amenities of home have improved.” Varian made an appreciative chuckle. “How’s Kai?” she asked in a quieter tone. Although Kai was propped up, he was far too passive for her liking.

  “We started to revive Portegin,” Triv said, squatting beside Varian so his body shielded her from those at the fire. “Kai’s still feverish. Says some kind of giant fringe attacked him. He’s not recovering as well as Lunzie would like,” he said in a quick whisper, then raised his voice to a normal level. “Kai thinks that once we have the matrix slabs from the other sleds, we can rig communications, probably patch most of what Paskutti smashed.”

  “I was hoping that we could, Triv.” Varian tasted the stew and then began to devour it as fast as she could. “This is delicious!” It was natural then for her to get up and join the two at the fire, and natural for her to pause by Kai before refilling her bowl. His color and the lassitude were alarming, and the smile he gave her was strained. “You look much better than when I last saw you.”

  Kai gave a derisive snort. “I can’t have looked much worse than I feel now.”

  “Why?” Varian went for a light touch. “Didn’t you like the purple moss Divisti grew just to cure your fever?”

  Kai grimaced in such disgust that the others laughed.

  “It makes a very effective antipyretic.” Lunzie broke off with a wry grin. “I wonder what Divisti’s reaction would be if she knew how much it was going to help us.” Then she turned to Varian, with no humor in her gaze. “You did say, last night, that we’d cold-slept forty-three years?”

  “I’d have told the rest of my news if I hadn’t been so rudely interrupted,” she said with a sour glance at Lunzie who only grinned back.

  “You did fall asleep at a crucial point,” the medic said. “Are any of the mutineers still alive?”

  “Only one. Tanegli.”

  “You met him?” Kai asked.

  “No. I met a sturdy young man named Aygar. An accomplished young fellow who was busy killing a fang-face with a barbed metal spear.”

  Kai made an expression of utter disgust. “Accomplished?”

  “His strategy was good,” said Varian, seeing no point in going into needlessly distressing detail.

  “Do you know if they’re in the secondary camp?”

  “They abandoned that for a more suitable site.”

  “Where was Divisti’s garden then?” Kai’s tone was querulous.

  “I’ll start from the beginning—”

  “When you’ve finished that second bowl,” Lunzie said firmly.

  Varian ate with indecorous haste and pleasure, glad of the opportunity to organize her thoughts. Feeling revitalized as she scraped up the last of the tasty stew, she began her account of the previous day’s incidents with the unexpected escort of the giffs.

  The listeners, and gradually Portegin became aware enough to listen, too, did not interrupt with questions, letting her narrative flow. Lunzie’s eyes had a malicious sparkle as Varian gave a very brief account of overpowering the young Aygar, adding that he’d just finished a rather exhausting race to outdistance an enraged fang-face. Varian noticed that Kai frowned over that show of strength. Well, perhaps she should have restrained her actions there but she sincerely doubted she’d ever catch Aygar unawares again, or best him. All four listeners commended her for posing as a representative of a new expedition in search of the first. The only hazard to that blatant lie would be a confrontation with Tanegli.

  “But he’s reported to be frail and not expected to live much longer,” Varian said.

  “Let us devoutly hope he is not included in the party you meet then.” Lunzie brought her brows together. “What I do not understand is why he, one of the oldest of the heavyworlders, has survived when the younger ones, like Bakkun and Berru, are dead.”

  “How long would their heavy-gravity advantage last on a light world?” Triv asked.

  “Unless they found some way to simulate heavy-gravity conditions and exercise under them—”

  “Well, they would have had to manhandle all the stone they built with up to the bluff,” Varian said, “and there were eight large buildings plus six or seven smaller ones, with slate for roofs.”

  “That would have helped,” but Lunzie’s tone was hesitant with doubt.

  “If they all indulged in ‘chase-the-fang-face-till-it-bled-to-death,’ ” Varian said with considerable acrimony in her voice, “they didn’t dare get fat.”

  “Obviously, their descendants have no such problem, and inherited physiques capable of considerable muscular development,” Lunzie continued. “Since this Aygar depended on physical endurance to outrun an enraged predator while it was bleeding to death, and then tried to take you on, Varian, the strength factor is still on their side. I think we’d better attend that meeting in force and in Discipline. Right, Kai?”

  “I’ll be with you, Varian!”

  Even as Varian nodded agreement, her eyes flicked to Lunzie’s and registered the denial the medic would not voice.

  “We must have communications, though.” Varian glanced toward Portegin, who was looking more alert now.

  “I’m sure I can rig something, especially if the sled units are operative. With that many matrices available, I might even fix what Paskutti smashed in the shuttle—at least for planetary use.”

  “I wish we had some kind of long-distance defensive tool,” Varian said, scratching her ear. “There was something in Aygar’s manner that worries me, but I can’t figure what!”

  “What sort of weapons did he carry?” asked Portegin.

  Varian described the crossbow and Portegin laughed. “We can do better than that if Lunzie has any anesthetic left?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Lunzie said, a trifle surprised. “Not much,” she cautioned, holding up her hand, “but enough to provide for a few medicated bolts.”

  “Good, then all I need is some hardwood and I can contrive a dart gun that would immobilize your crossbow user before he could cock it.”

  “So long as we get to shoot first,” Varian said.

  “You’d better!” Lunzie’s expression was as uncompromising as her tone.

  “I don’t want to shoot anyone,” Varian said. “Cold sleep didn’t change my moral values.”

  “No, just drastically changed our circumstances. We’re five . . .” and Lunzie’s finger did an arc including them all, “against I haven’t figured out how many progeny in two generations from six parents. We had few advantages over the heavy-worlders to begin with, and have fewer now that they’re completely ensconced in terrain we haven’t seen. They’re very well adapted to the environment.” She nodded at Kai. “You gained an advantage yesterday, Varian. We’ve got to maintain it, such as it is, no matter what we have to do to keep it. We can’t keep in constant Discipline. Above all, we have to protect the sleepers!” Her arm swung back toward the shuttle.

  “I’m consoled by the fact that the giffs take that on themselves,” Kai said.

  “A point, but only when none of us can assume that responsibility.” Lunzie turned back to Varian. “Aygar gave you no indication how many people are in the new settlement, or why they left the old?”

  “He was as wary of me as I was of him . . . once we agreed not to fight anymore. But there were eight buildings in the camp they had abandoned, and the dome had evidently gone with them, for there was a circle where it had stood in the center of the octagon the other buildings formed. Each house had four rooms. And except for built-in stone shelving, they were empty.”

  “Four times eight gives thirty-two which tells us nothing, really,” said Lunzie. “Tardma might have been able to produce two, maybe three children; she was the oldest. Berru and Divisti could have born a child a year easily for twenty or so, if they were forced to. I hazard they alternated paternity and kept track of whose was whose, to have as wide a gene pool as possible—”

  “They’d still be in trouble by the third or fourth
generation when recessive—”

  “As I recall their medical records,” Lunzie gently interrupted Kai, “Bakkun, Berru, and Divisti came from different genetic stock than the other three, who were from Modrem in the Cluster. There’s also a freak genetic twist that prevents recessives from surviving on heavy-world planets. The babies are either shipped offworld or . . .” Lunzie sighed, continuing briskly. “So that six are, were, the finest physical specimens, with nary a blurred chromosome for three or four generations back of adjustment to heavy-gravity worlds. Prime breeders.”

  “Aygar resembles Berru,” Varian said for no reason at all except the long thoughtful pause had to be broken.

  “Then I’d be more careful than ever with that young man. Neither Berru or Bakkun was short of brains.”

  “Which is why I never figured they’d join Paskutti,” Triv remarked. “How could they have fallen for Gaber’s rumor that we were planted.”

  “But we have been,” Varian said, unable to contain laughter that bubbled up in spite of her realization of the incredible odds against them. “At least until ARCT-10 remembers they left us here. Kai, did Tor say anything to you on your way to the compound?”

  “I was far too busy hanging on to talk. And when we got to the compound, Tor began to search for the core so I went looking for the sleds. I’d just found them when I heard Tor blasting off.” He shook his head as he remembered his unworthy thoughts at that moment. “When I got back to the compound, I saw it’d left the power pack with a lifter, and the cavity where it’d found the core.”

  “It never even waited to see if the sleds were operable?” Portegin asked.

  “Well, those sleds are built to withstand tremendous pressures and adverse conditions,” Kai replied, temporizing.

  Lunzie snorted.

  “Then Tor may be back?” asked Portegin.

  “I wouldn’t count on it, Portegin,” Lunzie said. She had been busy at the hearth and now brought a filled shell to Kai. “I know it tastes vile but it brought your temperature down. Drink up.”