"Yes, Your Excellency," Kateos said, chin up. "I understand. I will endeavor to make Master Dowornobb appreciate my contribution to the team."
"Very good," Et Avian said, turning his attention to the soldiers. "I will leave you alone, for I have business with Corporal Longo." The noblekone moved across the narrow aisle to engage the lead corporal. Dowornobb knew that Et Avian had wanted all the guards on one plane and the technical team on the other. The lead corporal, Longo by name, had bluntly refused, maintaining his orders were to watch over everyone; separating the groups would make it impossible for him to carry out his orders. Dowornobb had to agree with the logic, but something was amiss.
"I speak eight languages, Master Dowornobb," Kateos said proudly.
Such vanity, Dowornobb thought. "I did not know there were that many different tongues on Kon," he replied awkwardly.
"Oh, there are at least twenty modern languages and ten times as many dialects. The north is more homogeneous, because of its history of totalitarian regimes. After the Great Massacre the rulers of the north consolidated many isolated tribes and suppressed their languages. Some were simply killed off. The southern regions never succumbed to the genocidal tyranny of the north."
Dowornobb looked up anxiously. The scientist was himself inclined to talk obliquely about the inadequacies of government, but he knew where to draw the line, particularly when talking to strangers. The female was talking treason.
"I have been all over the planet working as a translator for the Minister of Internal Affairs. Ironically, as long as I am translating the silly words of some pompous official, my voice is received and welcomed. I am frequently requested by name to act as the official interpreter for opposing leaders." She talked rapidly, as if unburdening herself, a dam broken.
"Oh," Dowornobb ventured nervously.
"I have heard the alien tapes," she blurted conspiratorially. That reached past Dowornobb's discomfiture.
"The tapes from the Astronomical Institute? But most of it is not spoken communication," he replied. "The transmissions are all over the spectrum."
"Oh, I have listened to only the audio range," she said. "His Excellency wants us to work together, so you can explain to me what else is on the tapes."
"Hmm," Dowornobb pondered. "We cannot do much without a data link."
"No, His Excellency is not expecting that on this trip. Our objective is to examine the wreckage. Master Mirrtis and Master H'Aare are rocket propulsion and technology experts. I am to look for artifacts and documentation which might help to reconcile the language. I am also an accredited archaeologist."
Dowornobb' s respect for Kateos was growing, not so much from her words, but from her demeanor, the strength of her personality. "Mistress Kateos," he said. "Your credentials are impressive, but please…" and he moved closer. "Control your opinions. The Supreme Leader has ears everywhere." He signaled with his eyes.
She gulped, features firming. She peeked at the soldiers.
"Master Dowornobb," she said quietly, squeezing the corners of her mouth. "I am sorry. Of course, my opinions deserve not the light of day. It is just that I am so excited with the prospect of working with you."
"You are excited…by working with me?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!" Her deep brown eyes stared brazenly through her visor. "You have been most kind. You helped me with my bag, the day we landed, after I shamelessly blurted out my feelings. That took courage. You seem interested in my well-being, unlike the others. I have never been treated thus. You even smiled at me—in a public place! You are most kind."
Dowornobb blushed. Kones did not often give or receive complements, except empty, formal ones. He was confused. The warm feeling on his face spread to his heart, and—alarmingly—to his gland bladder.
"And you are so intelligent," she continued, moving closer. She touched his arm. "Et Avian said you have risen rapidly in your science. You are considered among the most elite astrophysicists and astronomers. He called you a genius."
Dowornobb was becoming infatuated. He had never received such praise. He was aware that the institute published reports under Director Moth's name, occasionally with credits to his research, but he did not know the authorities recognized his primary role in their authorship. He was immensely gratified.
"And you are so bold!" She would not stop, nor would Dowornobb dream of stopping her. "His Excellency was appreciative of your initiatives in discovering the crash site."
Kateos stopped talking. She stared fully into Dowornobb's face, and her gaze was far more compelling than any words. Dowornobb gave thanks that he was wearing a sealed suit and that everyone was wearing helmets and air filters, for his gland bladder at that moment erupted, the essence of his emotions literally exploding from his body. Dowornobb was in love.
* * *
"We are landing for the night," Et Avian said. They had spent hours covering a multitude of topics and issues. Dowornobb could tell that Et Avian was impressed with his and Mistress Kateos's depth and breadth of knowledge, and their budding cooperation.
"We are descending quite low," Dowornobb indicated, his helmet pressed to the thick window, feeling the vibrations of the powerful engine. The terrain was mountainous, although the peaks were less numerous. Pockets of snow and grimy glaciers clung to the mostly dry and barren slopes, and hazy cloud formations shrouded the lower ranges. The pulsating glow of fiery-red lava peeking through the haze made Dowornobb soberly conclude the clouds were steam and ash spewing from a chain of volcanoes. Calderas marched across his view, the terrain tortured and broken with faults and ejecta.
"It is most spectacular at night," Et Avian said from the window seat behind Dowornobb. "At night the landscape is traced with intertwining ribbons of hot red, and the magma ejections are beyond words."
"Must we land so close?" Dowornobb gulped.
"We will not land so close as it seems." The noblekone laughed. "You may wish we had landed closer, for it is warmer near those infernal rocks."
The landscape transformed abruptly from ash-colored lava flows to flowing fields of grass. Knife-edge ridges lifted high into the air, enclosing the grasses and the low-flying airplanes in a steep-sided valley. A scintillating stream ran parallel with their flight path. The aircraft banked sharply into the brisk afternoon wind, and as the abat leveled its wings it seemed to stand still. The pilot applied heavy power, the engine overhead vibrated strongly, and the ground floated up to join the wheels. The abat bounced slightly and rolled to a stop.
It was bright and sunny, the sun still high in the west, yet ice-cold air rushed in when the doors were opened. Though the kones were forewarned, the temperature plunge took their breath away. In near panic, they adjusted their temperature settings higher. Power units consumed fuel faster. The suddenly dismal scientists realized they were going to be outside in these conditions for over a week— a prison sentence! Et Silmarn and Et Avian herded their charges into action. The other pilot, Lollee, industriously drove stakes into the ground to use as tie-downs for the airplanes. The ground trembled and swayed beneath their feet.
"Do not worry about the seismic tremors. It is a permanent condition at this site. The sooner you get your tents up, the sooner you get out of this wind," Et Silmarn shouted, the gale whipping his words away. Using the airplanes as windbreaks, they erected and securely anchored three tents. Et Avian and the pilots claimed one tent, the four soldiers quickly disappeared in another, and the four scientists occupied the third. The conditions were crowded, but everyone appreciated the additive nature of body heat.
"Beautiful, is it not?" Et Silmarn asked as he came through the thermal lock. The four scientists huddled in their Genellan suits and dolefully watched him. "It is unseasonably moderate," Et Silmarn continued. "The air in the tents is warming quite nicely. Turn off your breathing units. You cannot eat with helmets on. The first thing we are going to do is prepare a meal, so watch carefully and learn. You must know how to cook for yourself."
Et Silmarn organiz
ed the cooking equipment, setting up a stove in a vented alcove, despite the rolling tremors. The meal was quickly prepared and consumed. The air in the tent warmed, the scientists grew relatively comfortable, and, with hunger quelled, their anxieties diminished. A conspiratorial conversation common to shared adventure erupted spontaneously. Scientist H'Aare allowed himself to converse with Mistress Kateos. Scientist Mirrtis talked with animation, still only to the males; however he did not object or react with even a hint of revulsion when Mistress Kateos cautiously participated.
"We have a chore: we must refuel our abat," the noblekone announced. "We do this every day, so the better we get at it, the less time it will take. Listen carefully!" Et Silmarn explained tasks and assigned duties. They listened to the instructions, put on helmets and suits, and followed the pilot into the cold. Although it hadgrown cooler, the kones were able to anticipate the breath-stealing temperature drop. With only a few well-intentioned shoves and shouts, barrels of fuel were rolled from staging areas and their contents pumped into wing bladders. Their job done, the scientists piled good-naturedly into their warm tent, feeling a sense of teamwork that heretofore had been missing. They resumed their conversation, and all four participated as equals.
* * *
"You will post guard around the clock," Et Avian ordered, his regal patience wearing thin with Corporal Longo. He removed his helmet to scratch his broad nose.
"It is too cold, Your Excellency," Longo whined. "We cannot withstand these conditions. We were not told—"
"Your mission is to protect us," the noblekone continued. "What are you going to do, hide in your tents? Who is going to protect you?"
"From what is there to be protected—besides the cold?" Longo asked impudently.
"You have Genellan experience," Et Avian said, his exasperation surfacing. "Surely you know the dangers. This continent has bears and predator lizards, pack scavengers and abats, catamounts and blackdogs. The cold is the least of your worries."
"P-predator lizards, Your Excellency?" Longo swallowed.
"Yes, predator lizards. What field experience have your men had?"
"We were facility guards at Goldmine Station, my lord, nothing more."
"What?" Et Avian said.
"That is all, Your Excellency," replied the lead corporal. "None of us has spent more than a few nights in the field, Your Excellency."
Et Avian stared at the soldier. "Post a guard," the noblekone commanded. "I will check on it. Be prepared, but do not be afraid. It is unlikely anything will come close to our tents. The animals are wary. If something comes snooping, fire your weapon into the air. That will scare anything that lives on this planet." Et Avian turned, stooped, and crawled from the tent, not bothering to put on his helmet, anger providing sufficient heat to get him to his own tent.
* * *
Longo knelt in the tent's center. The wind fluttered its thick walls.
"Do you think he suspects, Colonel?" one of the black-clad soldiers asked.
"Corporal, you idiot!" Longo snarled. The soldier dropped his head. "Perhaps," Longo replied. "B'Aane, you have the first watch. Two hours. Lootee will be next, and then Rinnk. What he said is true—they are just animals. Loud noises will scare them."
"Only if you see them," Lootee said.
"Shut up and obey!" Longo snapped.
* * *
The scientists of Ocean Station made a weekly fishing trip up the wide river. The ocean shore teemed with fish, crustaceans, and sea mammals, but one particular fish, called a speckle fish, was everyone's favorite. It was caught only in the fresh water of the great river. Scientist Kot and Technician Suppree had been assigned the duty of taking the motorized skiff upriver to replenish the supply of that fish. It was pleasurable duty, a day off from the monotonous data checking and compiling that characterized their research work. Officially, they were to take meteorological readings and collect biological samples.
With the sun still below the horizon, Kot and Suppree loaded the skiff and headed up the slack current of the great river, aided greatly by the first stages of a flood tide. Their destination was far upriver, to a place where the great ribbon of water took its last wide meanders before splitting into the sloughs and marshes of the brackish delta. The long ride in the frigid morning air was punctuated by sunrise—a stately metamorphosis of night into day— and a welcome rise in temperature. The river banks came alive with the morning; herds of long-legged gazelles grazed placidly in the frequent clearings, multitudes of river birds screeched at the passing skiff, and aquatic animals splashed in and out of the water, seeking refuge in all directions. They came upon two schools of round-backed river monsters. The broad white dorsals rolling gently across their path were the only impediment to their speedy trip north.
The kones finally beached their skiff on a familiar islet; its crescent beach, a favorite place, was swept by the direct rays of the sun throughout most of the day and shielded from the northerly breezes by a low bluff. The river ran wide and deep to both sides, providing ample protection from field predators, although a clutch of furry, flat-tailed animals had taken up recent residence.
While Technician Suppree shooed away the varmints, Scientist Kot unloaded the equipment and set up fish traps. Once the nets and traps were set, the kones took fishing poles and cast their lines out into the current. The hard work done, they commenced to relax. With the sun high enough to provide the necessary warmth, they took turns removing suits and helmets for half-hour stretches. The sun-baked sand held the chill winds at bay, permitting them to soak their great muscular bodies in the marginal warmth. After a half hour the chilled sunbather would don suit and helmet and check the traps and nets for any catch, while the other scientist would undress and bravely recline in the soft sand. Occasionally, a pole tip would dip and bend nervously, and the suited kone would lumber over and reel in a wriggling fish. These biological samples were accumulated in a well in the hold of the skiff.
Fishing was good and the fish tank was filled by early afternoon. The sun no longer overhead, the afternoon breezes swirled around the bluff protecting the sandy cove. The day was ending and the pleasantly sun-burnished kones, both fully suited, collected the fishing equipment.
"I will load the nets, Suppree," Kot said. "Start the afternoon readings?"
"Real work!" Suppree whined. He grabbed the instrumentation satchel from the boat and walked a hundred paces upriver, disappearing around the low bluff. The technician immediately reappeared, lumbering through the sand on all fours, yelling unintelligibly. Kot dropped the nets, wondering whether to jump in the boat and start the engine, but Suppree stopped. "Come! Quickly!" he shouted, heading back up the sand. Kot followed at an uncertain trot.
A section of raft remained tied together, grounded on the beach at the foot of the bluff, the long bitter end of a line trailing in the clear current. Two tiny green helmets and a single pack were lashed tightly to the logs. A miniaturized weapon was firmly strapped to the pack. Suppree and Kot stared down at the foreign objects, circling the sunken raft, even walking in the icy water.
"A helmet," Kot said, figuring out the latching mechanism and lifting it from the raft. "But it is so small." It rested easily in the palm of his hand.
"A weapon, no doubt," Suppree stated, unbinding the rusted rifle from the pack. His thick finger was too wide by half to fit through the trigger guard.
"Et Avian will want to see this when he returns."
Chapter 22. Outbound
A week later Dowornobb held the helmet in his hands, fascinated with its miniature size. How could a being with a brain so small travel between the stars? Maybe its brain was not held in its skull. Maybe it had two heads. After all there were two helmets, and only one pack.
"Ironic," Et Avian said, holding the other helmet as if it were a holy relic. "We fly across the continent to examine debris that tells us nothing, while the best clues wash up on our front door."
"No, Your Excellency," H'Aare interjected. His enthusiasm for
the search had steadily developed, escalating his personal emotions to almost a fervor. "We learned much from the wreckage."
"And we are better prepared for next year," Mirrtis added with surprising enthusiasm. Mirrtis had suffered more than most from the harsh elements.
"What His Excellency means is we found no clues to the aliens—no writings, no pictures, no tools," Kateos said, her voice firm. Dowornobb felt a strange pride in the female's assertion.
"Yes, Mistress Kateos," Et Avian added. "We now have a clue to their appearance. But we also know two facts that are even more important: one, they are on Genellan. And two, we can narrow the search to the river valley."
"That remains a large search area," Scientist Lollee said. "We cannot search any more before the cold season. They will probably die in the winter, if they are not dead already. Only dumb brutes can live through a Genellan winter."
Dowornobb glanced at Et Avian, who stared resolutely at the equipment. The Genellan winters, incomprehensibly vicious, were beyond hope. Dowornobb shifted his attention and noticed Corporal Longo standing silently in the corner.
Young Brappa was selected for the autumn salt expedition, a warrior's rite of passage. When Kuudor informed Braan of his son's selection, the hunter leader's paternal instincts filled him with foreboding: many sentries never returned. But Braan quickly dispelled his paternal anxieties. Salt missions were fraught with problems; he would not be distracted by selfish worry. The size of the expedition was Braan' s concern. The elders had proclaimed the salt requirement, and the pronouncement tore at Braan' s heart—one hundred full bags. Braan sighed and swallowed his protests; there would be many hunter abodes to visit. As their leader, it was his responsibility to notify the warriors of their obligations to volunteer, and since hunters never refused duty, Braan' s visits were received with grim respect.
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