Varian didn’t dismiss that notion, but it was not, she was certain, the entire answer to the enigma of Aygar’s cryptic expression.
“Sexuality could have been part of it, Lunzie, but it’s more as if . . . as if he had a surprise for me. And he did mention their beacon. Yes, the beacon had something to do with it and something that would, in his mind, neutralize my ability to throw him.”
“Why do they have a beacon?” Lunzie asked. She thoughtfully pursed her lips as Varian shook her head. Abruptly the medic pointed ahead and to starboard.
“Isn’t that moss down there?”
Varian banked sharply, noticing the small animals scurrying from the sound of the sled. She threw on the telltagger, but it only made noises appropriate to the small life-forms rapidly leaving the area. When they had landed, Varian kept one eye on the giffs. As long as they circled lazily, she felt safe.
“Not the right moss,” Lunzie said disgustedly. She held a sample under Varian’s nose.
“It stinks!”
“It’s cryptogamous!”
“Really?”
“Propagates by spores. What we want is bryophytic. You didn’t happen to notice how much of the stuff in Divisti’s garden is also bryophytic?”
“If it’s fungoid, I’m automatically prejudiced.” Varian gave a small shudder. “But I didn’t notice fungi in the garden. And the purple moss was the only one of its sort.”
“Don’t disparage fungi. Some of the oddest and most repellent are delicious and highly nutritious.”
“And smelly?”
“You planet-bred types do worry about smell, don’t you?” Lunzie grinned at Varian, and began to scrub her hands with dirt to remove the moss.
“I’d think smell would bother you shippers a lot more.”
“Is it safe to explore a little here?” Lunzie asked, glancing around the small copse.
“I don’t see why not,” Varian replied, after a glance at the giffs. “I’ll just turn up the volume on the telltagger.”
They ventured farther among the huge, high-branching trees, noting the nail grooves where the long-neck herbivores had steadied themselves to reach the upper leaves and branches. Similar stands of trees were scattered about the vast plain. Distant hadrosaurs, distinguishable by their crests, were bending saplings down to reach the edible twigs.
After concluding that the area had been overgrazed, the two women took to the air again, moving southeast until the land fell away in a huge old fault of several hundred meters’ height. The vegetation in the lower portion differed drastically from that of the plain. There were also more clearings in which to land the sled, but the telltagger buzzed so continually that Varian declined to take an unnecessary risk.
“We can try the swamps where we found the hyracotherium tomorrow,” Varian suggested and Lunzie agreed that this might be a more profitable site for the purple moss.
They were turning back when Varian sighted pod-bearing trees, at the northern end of the fault. Although there was room enough to land a space cruiser, the land was occupied by large tusked animals that were either fighting or bashing headlong into slender trunked trees to dislodge pods for noisy consumption. The air sled frightened the creatures off, but Varian preferred to hover well above the tuskers while Lunzie picked, happily muttering about high protein content.
“Make a note of these coordinates, will you Varian? We’ll want more of these. They’re what give my special stew its flavor.”
Taking another tangent back to the sea cliffs of the golden fliers, they made one more stop, in fruiting trees which Varian also noted for future reference.
The fragrance of the ripe fruit, picked from boughs grazing animals couldn’t reach, filled the enclosed air sled with tantalizing sweetness.
“No more stops no matter what you see, Lunzie. It’s getting dark, and I don’t fancy night landings in that cave.”
“I might just wake Bonnard,” Lunzie said after they’d ridden on in silent appreciation for the sunset display of distant lightning that brightened clouds in the far west. “He can run this boat, can’t he? He’s smart, quick, and he thinks. Besides—”
“Look, if you’re worried, Portegin can stay with you.”
“My concern is for you, co-leader, not myself. Not that any of you are safe if it’s new blood they’re after.”
“What exactly is bothering you, Lunzie? Tell me now. I’ve had enough surprises.”
“It may just be my suspicious nature, Varian, but your Aygar did mention a beacon. It is forty-three years since the mutiny . . .”
“So?”
“What do you know of unrest among planetary minorities?”
“Huh?” It took Varian a moment to grapple with the sudden switch. “I’d heard rumors that choice planets usually end up managed by one of the FSP majors. Financing was the usual rationale. Krims!—You don’t mean . . .” Varian shot a horrified glance at Lunzie, “you don’t mean that the ARCT-10 might have been taken over by another set of mutineers, do you?”
“A compound ship does not lend itself to mutiny.” Lunzie gave Varian a tight grin. “Too many minorities involved, too many different atmospheres, too bloody strict a surveillance against a possible takeover. Command can, you know, close off, gas, or eject any section of a compound ship without affecting overall stability, life support, drive or control elements. And the ARCT-10 had a large Thek group. No minority goes against Thek. What I had in mind were the rumors of expeditions on worlds such as this, where sizable teams simply disappeared. Not planted, but no sign of natural disasters or deaths accidental or otherwise. Just the rumor and no official acknowledgment of the problem. No official announcement about finding the lost units, either. Of course, the change-state problems of this immense Federation could account for the lack of news or official confirmation. Very little gets done quickly, especially when Thek are concerned. Forty-three years since our distress call?” Lunzie’s expression was grimly thoughtful. “That, my dear coleader, is long enough for a homing capsule to arrive at its destination and to permit an expedition to reach the distressed party. In my opinion, that’s why your Aygar was not much bothered by the gene balance in his settlement. And the reason he was surprised you hadn’t homed in on his beacon.”
Varian inhaled a long whistle. “That does put a frame around his attitude. But three days? Could he be that certain of a touchdown when they don’t have any communications?” Varian followed again, mulling over Lunzie’s theory. “When I crossed his line of march, he did get rid of me as fast as he could.”
“Which might mean the newcomers have arrived or are expected soon.”
“He certainly expects to own Ireta!”
“Your space law’s worse than your botany, Varian. If my theory has any substance, you were possessed with sheer genius when you posed as a new FSP expedition.”
“I was? Why?”
“One,” and Lunzie ticked off her points on fingers, “the heavy-worlders don’t suspect you are from the original team; they can still assume that we died of our own incompetence after the stampede or went into cold sleep. But if,” and another finger emphasized that point, “an FSP relief party arrives before their reinforcements, summoned by that homing capsule, they will not have clear title to the planet.”
“How could they think they’d have a clear title anyhow?” Varian demanded.
“There’s a considerable code of space law dealing with shipwrecked survivors who reach habitable planets and/or stranded expeditionary members who manage to achieve a certain level of civilization.”
“What does that code of space law say about mutineers?”
“That’s why it’s safer for us to be a relief party.”
“If at first you don’t succeed, have another go?” Varian asked drolly.
“Precisely.”
“But, Lunzie, when the reinforcements arrive, they’d know there aren’t any other ships orbiting the planet.”
“The reinforcements, my dear Varian, are probably
illegal and would be most anxious not to be hailed by another vessel. They’ll probably enter the atmosphere under radio silence and as quickly as possible to avoid detection. Since the obvious orbit of a rescue ship is synchronous with the site of original landing, even a large ship can escape detection if the captain has any intelligence.
“And then set about raping this rich world and indulging in their anachronistic behavior. It’s easy now to understand why specialists of the caliber of Bakkun and Berru went along with that asinine rumor about our being planted. They had a world to gain.”
Varian’s expression was grim. “Too bad they didn’t live to enjoy it. But, Lunzie, they did mutiny and they mustn’t be allowed to profit by it.”
“They haven’t yet,” Lunzie replied wryly. “And though their descendants cannot be held liable for the sins of their predecessors, we have to stay alive to prove that a mutiny did occur.”
“Then how—” Varian began indignantly.
“The descendants would only get partial claims,” Lunzie explained hurriedly. “Don’t worry about that now. Consider this instead: once their relief ship arrives, it will almost certainly contain sleds and instrumentation. They’ll be able to mount a full-scale search for our shuttle.”
“That doesn’t mean they’ll find it.”
“I suppose we won’t have to produce a shuttle,” Lunzie said.
“It’s away mapping the continent,” Varian announced airily. “Regulations don’t specify how large a search party has to be, so five of us are all our ship could send. And Tor knows—” Varian let out a whoop of laughter that caused Lunzie to wince as the sound reverberated in the confines of the sled’s canopy. “Those heavy-worlders have outsmarted themselves, Bakkun and Berru included. This planet’s been Thek-claimed for millions of years, if that core Tor was so nardling eager to disinter was Thek-manufactured. And it has to be.”
“Whether it is or isn’t, Varian, may not be germane, considering the span of time since its implantation. You can be certain that Bakkun included precise details of the rich transuranic potential of Ireta when that homing capsule was launched. An expedition will arrive equipped to strip this planet as thoroughly as the Others. And argue about who had the right to do so later.”
A shudder ran through Varian’s body. “Are there really any Others, Lunzie?”
“No one knows. I’ve stood on one of those barren worlds that must once have been as lush and lovely—and as rich—as this one.”
“The mutineers mustn’t rape this one.”
“You’ve my complete support.”
“The old ARCT-10 may even reappear . . .”
“We’d best consider what resources we can muster,” said Lunzie. She raised her hand when Varian began to protest. “I never count on luck. Tomorrow you, Triv, and Portegin will have lift-belts and stunners when you meet Aygar. You and Triv will have the advantage of full Discipline.” The medic paused before she added solemnly, “And I’d better give you all barriers.”
“Barriers?” Varian cast a startled look at the medic. That aspect of Discipline was entrusted to only a highly select few.
“Barriers are the only real protection you and our sleepers would have if heavy-worlders have landed.” Lunzie spoke quietly. Almost, Varian thought, as if she regretted the necessity of revealing this unexpected strength, rather than the need which dictated its use.
They flew on in silence until the looming white cliffs emerged from the shroud of evening mists and the black, beribboned opening that was their refuge yawned before them.
6
AFTER everyone had enjoyed the tasty stew Lunzie had concocted and as much of the ripe fruit as they could eat, Varian asked Lunzie to air her theory about the mutineers’ plan for Ireta.
“That’s just how the heavy-worlders acquired the S-192 system,” Triv said with considerable indignation.
“S-192 was a two-g world,” Lunzie pointed out.
“This one has wild animals for them to eat,” Varian said grimly.
“Not to mention transuranic deposits that would make claimholders extremely wealthy,” said Kai, “if they could validate their claim.”
“Which they can’t because we’re alive.” Portegin’s voice was angry.
“Hmm, but they don’t know it,” Varian reminded him.
“Keep two points in mind, my friends,” Lunzie said. “The mutineers’ descendants have survived and have maintained a good level of technology if they’re forging metal and have constructed a beacon. That qualifies them—”
“We’ve survived, too,” and Portegin sat straight up, incensed.
Lunzie regarded him humorlessly for a moment. “We,” and her voice left the slightest emphasis on the pronoun, “must continue to do so. My second point is that the descendants of the original mutineers cannot be prosecuted for the felony of their grandparents.”
“Tanegli’s still alive.” Varian was surprised at the edge in her voice.
“So I suspect that his first suggestion to the commander of the expected vessel will be to find us,” Kai said. “When they didn’t find the space shuttle under the dead beasts after the stampede, they knew that someone survived and went cryo.”
“Aygar believes that they were deliberately abandoned,” Varian said.
“Your little lie and what Aygar has been told are all that kept him from attacking you, Varian.” Lunzie’s tone betrayed her anger. “We have to keep you and them,” the medic jabbed her finger at the shuttle, “alive until ARCT-10 returns.”
Portegin gave a snort of derision. “The ARCT probably blew up in that cosmic storm.”
“Unlikely,” Lunzie said. “I once slept seventy-eight years and still was collected by my original ship.”
“You think the ARCT-10 will come back for us, Lunzie?” asked Portegin, amazed.
“Stranger things have happened. Whatever Aygar believes, Varian, Tanegli knows different, nor can he ignore the fact that some of us may have survived. He cannot take the risk that the ARCT-10 will return and with the information left in our beacon, recover the shuttle. Right now we must make plans that will safeguard not only us but the sleepers. Equally important, set ourselves up as scouts totally unrelated to the ARCT-10. If that ship did blow, its deadman’s knell will be recorded and known to every space commander—including the mutineers’ relief ship—so we can’t pose as a relief unit from the ARCT-10.”
“From what ship did we originate then, Lunzie?” Kai was slightly amused, but his husky voice betrayed his physical debility.
Varian looked at him quickly, wondering if he objected to Lunzie’s dominance. His eyes were glittering, but not with fever. He seemed to be encouraging the medic’s unexpected inventiveness.
“We can take our pick—freighter, passenger, another Exploratory Vessel . . .” Lunzie shrugged, suddenly reverting to her usual passivity. “Recall what you told Aygar, Varian.”
“That I was part of a team sent in answer to the distress call.”
“Any vessel has to investigate such a signal . . .” Portegin said.
“But only a Fleet ship could tap our beacon’s messages,” Triv reminded them.
“And he’d know how rich this planet is and send a party down if only for finders’ fees.” Portegin capped Triv’s remark.
“That’s what I implied,” said Varian. “Then Aygar gave me his version of the facts.”
“That his grandparents had been abandoned? . . .” Kai asked.
“Deliberately abandoned,” Varian replied with a grimace, “after the tragic accident that demolished their original site. No mention of either of us as leaders, remember.”
“Paskutti had that honor?” Kai was amused.
Varian shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I did inquire about the children. I also said that the ARCT-10 was still missing.” Varian hesitated, dubious now about that admission.
“Why not?” Kai shrugged. “If the ship had returned within the Standard year, as planned, none of us would be where we are now. What p
uzzles me is the forty-three years. It doesn’t take anywhere near that time for a homing capsule to reach its destination. And I know the mutineers had ours.”
“They would have had to wait to be sure that the ARCT-10 wasn’t just delayed,” Varian suggested.
“Could they have known that the ARCT-10 never stripped the beacon of messages?” Lunzie asked.
“Only Kai and I knew that.”
“Bakkun might have guessed,” Kai said slowly.
“By what we didn’t say rather than what we did?” Varian asked. Kai nodded.
“We ought,” Kai went on, “to have invented a message from the ARCT.”
Lunzie snorted. “I don’t think that would have kept the heavy-worlders satisfied once they’d had their bloody rest day . . . and tasted animal protein. Brings out the worst in them every time.”
A taut silence ensued, broken as Varian shuddered, then said, “But Divisti’s garden produced sufficient vegetable protein to support twice as many heavy-worlder appetites.”
“I’d say they waited,” Lunzie began, picking at her lower lip for a moment before she continued. “They would have tried to locate the shuttle and the power packs which young Bonnard so cleverly concealed. They knew Kai’d sent out some sort of message, before Paskutti smashed the comunit? Well, then, they’d have had to wait to see if assistance arrived. They would have had to assume also that we’d rig some sort of distress beacon to attract rescue, even if it did take the Thek forty-three years to bother to investigate.”
Varian broke in excitedly. “You don’t suppose that they could have rigged an alert for a landing?”
“No way.” Portegin shook his head violently. “Not with the equipment they had. Remember it was replacement parts they took with the stores, not full units.”
“Yes, but Aygar spoke of iron mines, and they’ve been working a forge.”
Portegin kept shaking his head. “Bakkun was a good all-round engineer, but even with all the matrices I’ve got, I couldn’t make that sort of a scan system, not planetwide, and that’s what they’d need.”
“So,” Kai said in summation, “they waited to be sure ARCT wasn’t making the scheduled pick-up. They also waited until they could be reasonably certain our distress signal was unheard and then too weak. Then they sent the homing capsule to one of the heavy-world colonies inviting settlers and technicians.”
The Mystery of Ireta Page 31
