Dan didn’t try to unkink his muscles until the N’lacs were well out of sight and earshot. Then he stood up with a groan, stretching. What an evening!
And it wasn’t over yet.
Suddenly wary, he searched the darkness. He wasn’t alone on Dome Hill. Two glowing starbursts hovered to his left.
Whimed eyes!
The silhouette was of a large crested head and a tall, lean body. Beside it was a smaller figure, pot-bellied. A chuckle gave Chen away. The taller being, naturally, had to be Praedar.
Dan’s fear faded, replaced by annoyance that he’d been so jumpy.
“It is a memory.” Praedar’s words startled him anew.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“The old teach the young.” Praedar moved as silently as dust drift, coming forward, halting an arm’s length from the pilot. Dan took a step backward. He knew, intellectually, that the Whimed wasn’t going to attack him. Eons of evolution, though, ^hoved his instincts hard. With a much heavier tread, Chen topped the slope, standing beside his alien friend and the Terran.
“It gives the people to the children,” Praedar said. Lamplight from the ramp glowed palely on his arm as he gestured toward the small dome, where Sleeg and the kids had sat. “They will thus remember what has been.”
“Oral tradition,” Chen murmured. “Mm!”
Dan nodded. “Pride of heritage. Maybe pride of species, too.
I know. When I was little, my dad used to tell me about the Saunders and McKelveys, about how our family helped Terra reach the stars. It made a big impression. It’s probably what inspired me to become a tech-mech and a pilot.”
Chen nudged the Whimed. “Uh? Uh? Predicted, didn’t I?” “Yes,” Praedar agreed. “My grandsire instructed me and my twin as your father did you, Dan. I was taught of Maruxa and of how she proved the Dread Regions were Whimed’s sou!. From her example and my grandsire’s, I learned to seek truth, to make the unknown known.” Chen grunted emphatically, emphasizing the point.
“I guess we’re alike in that,” Dan said. “AO humanoids.” “Terran, Whimed, N’lacs,” Praedar murmured, then added with a touch of disdain, “Not Vahnaj. They do not teach their young in this manner. Ruieb-An does not fully understand N’lac ritual.”
Dan smiled. Lurking prejudice was a chink in Praedar’s armor. He was a genius at handling this multispecies team, but he wasn’t immune to that age-old enmity between Whimed and Vahnaj. That comment on Vahnaj child-rearing methods made the boss seem, if not more human, more humanlike.
“Heritage,” Praedar said, pointing again at the dome. “Kaatje tells of Earth peoples who crossed a glaciated northern continent to settle in warmer, more southerly areas.”
Dan recalled the references in the library vids. “That must have been the Native Americans.”
“Their descendants preserved the story of the journey, and generations later spoke of a land of endless cold where the sun did not shine.”
“Not in winter, in a polar region,” Dan confirmed.
“Their legends said that in that place many of the tribe’s children died of cold and were eaten by large canine beasts.”
That involuntary shiver shook Dan again. “Wolves, probably,” he said. “When they told those legends, they lived in temperate zones. They couldn’t have had any personal knowledge of what a polar climate was like or memories of events thousands of years earlier. Yet they kept the story going.”
“They saved the truth,” Praedar noted.
Chen put in, “As the N’lacs attempt to do.”
Dan didn’t offer his kinsman’s counterargument—that the N’lacs weren’t remembering true history because they weren’t actually related to the species that built these ruins. He weighed various possibilities, letting his mind chase leads. “It still seems odd to me that Sleeg doesn’t describe the ship the slaves escaped in. And that you haven’t found traces of one. Where is the getaway vehicle?”
The silence lengthened. At last Praedar said, “Time. The place the ancestors returned. Here.”
With surprising ease, Dan followed his logic. “Yeah! That must be it. They cannibalized the ship to make temporary shelters. Maybe they took fluidics molds off its equipment.” More and more enthusiastic, he repeated, “Yeah! It fits. You didn’t find fluidics elements—pardon me: effigies—below the five hundred-year stratum. And no ship. But right then’s when the small dome appears, and the fluidics elements. It has to indicate a master job of N’lac cannibalization and conversion of materials!”
Praedar rocked with noiseless laughter. Chen was less reserved. He cackled gleefully. For a second Dan was irked, thinking they were amused by his naivete. Then Chen said, “Oh, indeed! Indeed! Astute! Very astute! You do learn remarkably quickly, my boy. And you try to claim you have absolutely no education. Tsk! What a sham! He’s as good as you are, Praedar, at seeing the big picture. No, Dan, there are no glass artifacts in the 2000 B.P. museum stratum I’m investigating. None in the following periods. It’s just as you said. Everything begins when the legends say the N’lac slaves returned Home from slavery. Coincidence? We hardly think so!”
The felinoid’s eyes were bright, starburst ribbons. “You see and speak with a fresh viewpoint, starship pilot. You would behave as you have suggested, had you shared existence with the escaped slaves?”
“I wouldn’t have had a choice, if I wanted to survive,” Dan said. “From what Joe’s work shows, those genetic alterations the Evil Old Ones did to the N’lacs would have made readapting to this planet’s environment a life-or-death straggle for them. They probably managed okay for a while, but...”
Praedar’s head jerked down in a characteristic Whimed nod. “True. Their numbers apparently multiplied for several decades, in and around this immediate area. Gradually they began to suffer from soroche. Remote probes of graves spell out the progress of altitude sickness. Symptomology: a severely lessened mental and physical capacity; great increase in blood volume, particularly in oxygen-carrying components; nausea; vertigo; and retinal hemorrhaging, which is observed in present-day villagers. There are also visual distortions, impotence, infertility, frequent spontaneous abortions when gestation does occur, and slow development of infants who do survive birth. They also show sensitivity to heat and cold and inadequate compensations for humidity fluctuations. All evidence indicates the body is desperately attempting to adapt for an oxygen content well below that of the atmosphere in which the species evolved—or which it was genetically changed to accept.”
Dan winced at the grim recitation. The escapees’ descendants had been trapped in a hopeless downward spiral. The pressurized dome had been a temporary refuge. But as their supplies dwindled, they had been forced to make longer and longer foraging trips away from that shelter. The environment had taken its toll, sapping them, and dulling their wits. With maintenance knowledge lost, they couldn’t remain in the refuge and hence abandoned it to time and dust drift.
“They still try to build domes, don’t they?” Dan said, touched. “Those round-roofed brick huts, to them are the right shape for a house. That must be why they took to Joe’s hyperbaric model with so little fuss. They vaguely remembered when pressurization was the way of life for their ancestors. The rest of it is reduced to legends about the magic that made things work; and the domes are sacred places.” He paused, then added, “They’re in awe of them and afraid of them, as if this is where their civilization came to an end, as well as where their ancestors escaped to Home.”
Praedar and Chen nodded, an almost comical contrast of forms and species.
Dan was deeply affected by the N’lacs’ history. He imagined Terrans—his own family—sinking under the weight of circumstances as the N’lacs had. This was something xenoarchaeology could teach modern stellar cultures—how to step into another race’s boots and appreciate what they’d experienced. Those New Earth Renaissancers and the lucky settlers on safe, prosperous worlds needed an occasional humbling reminder, to keep them from getting cocky.
>
Praedar abruptly shifted focus. “When we find portions of the escapees’ ship, you will analyze them?”
Taken aback, Dan said, “Well, sure, if I can. At least I could tell you what was different about the pieces from known technology. But... don’t you want an expert to do that?”
“You will be our expert,” the Whimed said flatly.
Dan’s ego took a quantum jump. Damned right he’d do the job! If the expedition didn’t have to close up shop long before it ever got within digging length of those long-lost escapee ship fragments.
The team was about to be squashed by Feo and Hope Saunder. The N’lacs were facing extinction or pethood. Compared to those options, was the risk of losing Fiona so awful? Dan considered the worst scenario: Fiona repossessed; no ship; no credit.
Rough! He’d been there.
And he’d climbed out of that hole. He could do it again. Hell, he was only thirty. He still had the guts and knowhow to accomplish that.
But could the N’lacs and the expedition survive what his relatives were dumping on them? Dan doubted it.
Chen was whispering to his former student. Praedar nodded and turned to Dan. “Would these repossess artists, as you call them, seize your vessel if it were registered to another owner?”
“Huh? Sell her? Nah! She’s got too much debt paper out on her, plus my being blacklisted. No buyer wants to hassle a private deal like that.”
“Illusion,” Chen said. “An illusion that your vehicle has acquired a new owner.”
“Fake a sale? I... I don’t know. It wouldn’t fool the debt funders on Procyon Four for long.” Even as he protested, Dan was recalling spacer gossip about just such scams. Sometimes they succeeded.
“The illusion need not be sustained indefinitely,” Praedar said. Dan weakened. What an outrageous proposal! Borderline illegal, to boot—-and crazy enough to work. “I am not able to purchase a ship, in reality,” the Whimed admitted. “However, I would pay you pilot’s wages for your risks, an appropriate portion of the sum reserved for our transport.”
“Hmm. Pilot. The way Fm your maintenance specialist, huh?” Dan said slyly, then sobered. “You can’t afford it. You’re already strapped for funds. I know how it is..
Praedar’s words were harsh. “It will be. Fair Terran-Whimed exchange rates. Less is sarige-aytan.” Unethical and totally repugnant to a felinoid. The alien was willing to spend credits from his lean purse, engage in the sham of ship-ownership, and make any sacrifice to get to that Assembly, because he wanted the scientific community to know the truth about the N’lacs and ensure that they and the dig went on.
Could Dan do less? His grandfather had put his life on the line to develop the stardrive. Praedar wasn’t asking for anything nearly that dangerous. And whether or not Dan helped him, Fiona’s fate was iffy. He could say “No,” let the expedition fail, and still lose the ship, on down the line. So why not prove he was Morgan McKelvey’s grandson in spirit as well as in blood? Yeah! He was a spacer. And sometimes a spacer had to take chances. Praedar deserved a break. So did the N’lacs.
Thrusting out Ms hand, Dan said, “You’ve got a deal.”
Chen crowed in delight. Praedar gripped the pilot’s hand. “Told you!” the Oriental said. “I told you to go on and ask him! He’s good stock. Most of the Saunder-McKelveys are. The best!” “And we’ll split the pay difference,” Dan insisted. “It’s worth it to me, if I get to see Feo’s face when you show up at the Assembly after all.”
That sent Chen into fresh gales of laughter. Praedar wheezed in amusement. Dan laughed, too, feeling free, now that he’d taken the plunge. Eager to share their news, the three hurried down to the complex.
The felinoid huddle had broken up. Whimeds were sprawled in the cook shack, nursing headaches and strained muscles. The only Terrans in the room were Kat and Joe. They all looked up as Dan and the scientists entered. Kat studied the trio a moment, then leaped to her feet. “Something’s changed! I can smell it!” “Good little nose, there,” Dan teased. “Praedar and Chen twisted my arm. We’ll work up a bogus bill of sale to cloak Fiona’s identity, and I’ll take you guys to the Assembly.”
Whimeds forgot their headaches and howled in triumph. Kat flung her arms around Dan’s neck, kissing him. Joe pounded him on the back. The uproar brought other team members running from every area of the insta-cells. When they heard the news, pandemonium took over for a time. Kat finally let Dan come up for air. He grinned and said, “We’ll have to do this more often.” Sheila was smiling, not at all jealous. She commented to Joe and Rosie, “I told you all Olmsted needed was some priming,”
“A new man on the dig didn’t hurt, either,” Rosie noted with a smirk.
As things began to calm down, Joe asked,“What about those repossess guys?”
Dan said confidently, “If T-S 31I ’s Port Authorities quiz me, I’ll tell ’em the official title transfer on the ship is in the pipeline. That might even be true, given red tape. In fact, it’s fairly common on the frontier. By the time anyone digs deep enough to suspect it’s a fake, we’ll be on our way home.”
Kat frowned. “That sounds as if you’re still operating under a sword of Damocles.”
“Nah! The grapevine isn’t that speedy. And while we’re there, Feo’s going to be too busy hosting the Assembly to bother checking the fine print on my registry papers.” Dan put a bright face on matters for the sake of the scientists. He himself was fatalistic. With luck, he’d come out of this without attracting a repossess artist’s unwanted attention. And he’d do his damnedest to hang onto Fiona for the foreseeable future. But if someone saw through the scam and tracked him back here and took her later, well, that was part of the risk. He’d known that when he’d made Ms commitment to Praedar. That promise came first. He was no weaseler.
“We’ll make sure the Saunders are kept very busy,” Kat said. Other scientists chimed in, fervently agreeing.
Praedar sliced away unimportant aspects. “How many beings can your ship transport?”
The mood shifted. Everyone stared anxiously at Dan. He took a deep breath. “That depends. Armilly going to be a passenger?” Kat answered for the team. “No, he’s an outcast from Ms fur-kinship. And his matriarch’s aunt will be at this Assembly. Arnjilly will send holo-mode material with us, but he doesn’t want to attend and take a chance of meeting her.”
“I see.” Dan did some quick calculating. “Then I could take five Terrans, Whimeds, or Vahnajes.”
“Five! That’s allT
Dan struggled to make himself heard, spelling out the laws of single-stager FTL physics. “... limits capacity and life support systems, and I’ll be stretching fuel thin. That transport that was supposed to haul you could make the jump overnight. It’ll take Fiona a good three days, even if she wasn’t overloaded with specimens and exhibits, as you’re planning. Hey! If a singlestager could haul as much as the big guys, I’d be a big guy and a quadrillionaire!”
Again the tone of the discussion altered. People now jockeyed for position. They cited credentials, seniority, and preparedness as reasons why they deserved one of the precious berths rather than someone else. Friends eyed one another as rivals.
Getz broke in, announcing loudly “Whoever else goes, one of the tickets is mine. No options.” The effigy specialist and his students took a storm of verbal flak. Getz drowned out protests. “That was a prior, contracted condition of my coming here. luxury will confirm.” The pudgy scientist swung around and exited the cook shack before anyone could argue further. His students made a hasty getaway as well.
“He has no right,” Baines, the xenogeologist, said hotly.
“Unfortunately, he does,” Joe countered. “Remember? He had it put in writing, when he joined us to study those effigies. It didn’t seem important, when we had several dozen transport tickets...”
Amid the angry confusion, it struck Dan that Getz had done the team a favor; he’d concentrated animosity on himself and made would-be rivals for starhopper seats alli
es.
Praedar chopped off the gripe sessions. “We will decide the exact composition of the representative team when we have weighed all factors. In the interim, it is unquestioned that certain exhibits will be taken, no matter which beings attend. Full cooperation in preparation is necessary to assure success.”
The group closed ranks. That undercurrent of rivalry lingered, but for right now the scientists were willing to work together for the common good.
Their normal schedule was heavy. It got much heavier.
The morning after the big change in travel plans, Ruieb-An’s crew returned. When they learned the news, they got busy translating the latest finds. The Vahnajes behaved as if there had never been a blow-up.
Armilly rejoined the gang that morning, too. He looked like an enormous, hungover raccoon. But he pitched in immediately to ensure that those making the trip would have plenty of ammunition to throw at the Saunders. Dan fine-tuned the Lannon’s scanners and occasionally assisted Armilly in processing the results.
Labs were jammed. Scientists analyzed, cataloged, holo-moded, packed, and consolidated exhibits. Terrans gobbled stims to keep going. The polyphasic Whimeds skipped their usual catnaps, and their huddles became terrifyingly violent releases of tension. Vahnajes stuck to their translation comps until several of them were badly dehydrated and had to be ordered to recuperate before they went into shock.
Dan flew constant aerial surveys with Praedar. He sat in on powwows with the N’lacs. Kat used the pilot’s growing popularity with Chuss and the young e.t.s while she recorded telling audio-vids showing just how fully humanoid the N’lacs were.
Along with all the other rush-rush chores, digging at the domes continued at a controlled pace. Though constrained by the “go-slow” rules of their profession, the team was determined to collect as much new raw data as possible for the Assembly. Dan helped when and where he could. He also coached Sheila and several other scientists in the care and maintenance of the vacuum dredge; they’d be totally responsible for its function while he was taking the expedition’s reps to T-S 311.
Juanita Coulson - Children of the Stars 04 Page 15