by neetha Napew
“But if they should mutiny. The heavyworlders on this planet mutinied - “
“Over forty years ago, when your father was a toddler, and Major Currald hadn’t been born. Are you suggesting that heavyworlders have telepathic links to unborn heavyworlders?” That wasn’t logical, but neither were they, and she enjoyed the puzzlement on their faces as they worked their way through it. Before Varhes could start up again, she tried a tone of reasonableness, and saw it affect most of them. “Look here: the heavyworlders on this ship are Fleet - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They’re our companions, they’ve fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that’s what they had in mind. You think they’re involved in sabotage on the ship - I’m quite sure they’re not. But even so, we’re taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn’t make the others guilty. Suppose it’s someone from Gian-IV - “ a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, “would that make Varhes guilty?”
“But it’s not the same,” came a voice from the back of the group. “Everybody knows heavyworlders are planet pirates, and now we’ve found them in action - “
“Some planet pirates are heavyworlders, we suspect, and some are not - some are even Ryxi.” That got a nervous laugh. “Or consider the Seti.” A louder laugh. Sassinak let her voice harden. “But this is enough of this. I don’t want to hear any more unfounded charges against loyal members of Fleet, people who’ve put their lives on the line more than once. I’ve already told one ensign to review the regulations on conspiracy, and I commend them to each of you. We have real hostiles out there, people: real would-be planet pirates, who may have allies behind them. We can’t afford finger-pointing and petty prejudices among ourselves. Is that quite clear?” It was; the little group melted away, most of them shamefaced and clearly regretting their impetuous actions. Sass hoped they’d continue to feel that way.
Back on the bridge, Sass reviewed the status of the various parties involved. The heavyworld transport’s captain had entered a formal protest against her action in “interfering with the attempt to respond to a distress beacon.” Her eyebrows rose. The only distress beacon in the story so far had been at the Ryxi planet, the beacon that had sent Mazer Star on its way here. The heavyworlder transport had run past there like a grass fire in a windstorm. Now what kind of story could he have concocted, and what kind of faked evidence would be brought out to support it? She grinned to herself; this was becoming even more interesting than before, The “native” heavyworlders, descendants of the original survey and exploration team ... or at least of the mutineers of that team . . . were mulling over the situation but keeping their distance from the cruiser. The transport’s captain had kept in contact with them by radio, however.
The Mazer Star, supply ship for the Ryxi colony, had managed to contact the survivors who’d been in cold-sleep. So far their statements confirmed everything on the distress beacon, with plenty of supporting detail. A mixed exploration team, set down to survey geological and biological resources - including children from the EEC survey vessel, the ARCT-10, that had carried them, highly unusual. Reversion of the heavyworlder team members to carnivory - their subsequent mutiny - murder, torture of adults and children - their attempt to kill all the lightweights by stampeding wildlife into the camp. The lightweights’ successful escape in a life-boat to a seacliff cave, and their decision to go into coldsleep and await the ARCT-10’s return.
Sass ran through the computer file Captain Godheir had transferred, explaining everything from the original mixup that had led the Ryxi to think the human team had been picked up by the ARCT-10, to the Mazer Star’s own involvement, after a Thek intrusion. Thek! Sass shook her head over that; this had been complicated enough before; Thek were a major complication in themselves. Godheir’s story, unlike that of the heavyworlder Captain Cruss, made perfect (if ironic) sense, and his records checked out clean with her on-board databanks. Mazer Star was in fact listed as one of three shuttle-supply ships on contract to a Ryxi colony in this system. She frowned at the personnel list Godheir had transferred, of the expedition members stranded after the mutiny. Lunzie? It couldn’t be, she thought - and yet it wasn’t a common name. She’d never run into another Lunzie. Medic, age 36 elapsed - and what did that mean? Then she saw the date of birth, and her breath quickened. By date of birth this woman was ancient - impossibly old - and yet - Sass fed the ID data into the computer, and told Com to ready a low-link to Fleet Sector Headquarters. About time the Admiral knew what had happened, and she was going to need a lot of information. Starting with this.
“Captain?” That was Borander, on the pinnace, with a report of the airsled victims’ condition.
“Go ahead.”
“The woman is conscious now; the medics have cleared her for transport. The man is still out, and they want to package him first.”
“Have you had a contact from their base?”
“No, captain.”
“You may find them confused, remember, and not just by a knock on the head. Don’t argue with them; try to keep them calm until you get a call from their base, or our medical crew gets to them.” The message relayed from Godheir was that both crew were barriered by an Adept, and thought they were members of a Fleet cruiser’s crew. They’d be more than a little surprised to find themselves in a different cruiser, Sass thought, particularly if the barriers had been set with any skill.
And one of these was the team co-leader - essentially the civilian authority of the entire planet. Governor? Sass wondered what she was like, and decided she’d better be set up for a formal interview just in case. Some of these scientist types didn’t think highly of Fleet. She signalled for an escort, then went to her office, and brought up all the screens. One showed the pinnace just landing, and when she plugged in her earpiece, Borander told her that a message had just come from the survivor’s base for the woman. Sass approved a transfer, and watched on the screen as Borander and his pilot emerged to give their passenger privacy. She presumed that the unconscious man was in the rear compartment, with a medic. When the woman - Varian, Sass reminded herself - came out, she seemed to be a vigorous, competent sort. She was certainly used to having her own way, for she took one look around and began to argue with Borander about something. Sass wished she’d insisted on an open channel between them, but she hadn’t expected that anything much would happen. Now she watched as the argument progressed, with hand-waving and head-shaking and - by the expressions - raised voices. She pressed a button, linking her to the bridge, and said “Com, get me an audio of channel three.”
“ - Nothing to do with Aygar and anyone in his generation or even his parents’.” The woman’s voice would have been rich and melodic if she hadn’t been angry - or stressed by the crash, Sass reminded herself. She followed the argument with interest. Borander let himself be overwhelmed - first by the woman’s vehemence, and then by her claim of precedence as planetary governor. Not, Sass was sorry to notice, by her chain of logic, which was quite reasonable. She shook her head at the screen, disappointed - she’d thought Borander had more backbone. Of course the woman was right: the descendants of mutineers were not themselves guilty, and he should have seen that for himself. He should also have foreseen her claim of authority, and avoided the direct confrontation with it. Most of all, Fleet officers shouldn’t be so visibly nervous about their captains’ opinion - acting that way in a bar, as an excuse not to get into a row, was one thing, but here it made him look weak - never a good idea. How could she help him learn that, without losing all his confidence - because he didn’t seem to have much.
So, Co-leader Varian wanted to bring both those young heavyworlders into her office and argue their case right away, did she? She was no doubt primed for an argument with a boneheaded Fleet battleaxe . . . Sass grinned to herself. Varian might be a planetary governor, of sorts, but she didn�
��t know much about tactics. Not that she planned to be an enemy. She followed their progress up the ramp and through the ship, but by the time they appeared outside her office, she was waiting to greet them. As she stood and shook hands with Varian, she saw the younger woman’s eyes widen slightly. Whatever she’d thought a cruiser captain was like, this was clearly not it ... Not the old battleaxe you expected, hmm? thought Sass. Nor the office you expected? For Varian’s eyes had lingered on the crystal sculpture, the oiled wood desk with its stunning pattern of dark red and black graining, the rich blue carpet and white seating. Sass gave the two young heavyworlders a polite greeting. One of them - Winral? - seemed almost dazed by his surroundings, very much the country cousin lost in a world of high technology. The other, poised between hostility and intelligent curiosity, was a very different order of being indeed. If there were wild humans, Sass thought, as there are wild and domestic kinds of some animals, this would be a wild one. All the intelligence, but untamed. On top of that, he was handsome, in a rough-cut way.
She continued with pleasantries, offering a little information, feeling out the three of them. Varian relaxed quickly once she realized Sassinak intended no harm to the innocent descendants of the mutineers. Clearly she felt at home in civilized surroundings and had not gone native. Varian wanted to know the location of the ARCT-10, of course.
“That’s another good question to which I have no answer,” Sass told her, and explained that she’d initiated a query. It hadn’t been listed as destroyed, and no distress beacon had shown up, but it might take days to figure out what might have happened. Then she turned to Aygar, and asked for his personal identification - which he gave as a pedigree. Typical, she thought, for the planet-born: you are who your parents were. Fleet personnel gave ship and service history; scientists, she’d heard, gave university affiliation and publications. Winral’s pedigree, when he gave it, contained some of the same names . . . and after all the mutineers had been few. They’d probably worked to avoid inbreeding, especially if they weren’t sure how long it would be before a colony ship joined them. Or if one would come at all.
When she began to review the legal status of the younger heavyworlders, Varian interrupted to insist that the planet did, indeed, have a developing sentient species. Sass let her face show surprise, but what she really felt was consternation. Things had been complicated enough before, with the contending claims of mutiny, mining rights, developmental rights derived from successful settlement - and the Theks’ intervention. But all rules changed when a planet had a sentient or developing sentient native species. She was well-read in space law - all senior officers were - but this was more than a minor complication - and one she could not ignore.
Avian, too, Varian told her. Sass thought of the Ryxi, volatile and vain, and decided to keep all mention of Varian’s flyers off the common communication links. At least the Ryxi weren’t as curious as they were touchy - they wouldn’t come winging by just to see what the excitement was all about.
Aygar, meanwhile, wanted to insist that the heavyworlders at the settlement owned the entire planet - and could grant parts of it to the colonists in that transport if they wanted to. Sassinak found herself enjoying his resistance, though she made it clear that under Federation law his people could not claim anything but what they had developed: the mine, the fields, the landing grid. And she strongly advised him to have nothing more to do with the heavyworlder transport, if he wanted to avoid suspicion of a conspiracy.
When she offered him her hand, at the conclusion of the interview, she wondered if he’d try to overwhelm her. If he was as smart as he looked - as he must be to have accomplished what the reports said - he would restrain himself. And so he did. His grip on her hand was only slightly stronger than hers on his, and he released her hand without attempting a throw. She smiled at him, well-pleased by his manner, and made a mental note to try recruiting him for Fleet duty. He’d make a terrific marine, if he could discipline himself like that. She explained that she’d be sending over data cubes on FSP law, standard rights and responsibilities of citizenship, the sections on colony law, and so on, and that she’d supply certain items from the ship’s stores under the shipwreck statutes. Then the two heavyworlders were gone, with an escort back to the outside, and she turned her attention back to Varian.
Varian would clearly rather have left with the heavyworlders, and Sass wondered about that. Why was she being so protective? Most people in her position would, Sass thought, have been more ready to see all the heavyworlders in irons. Had she formed some kind of attachment? She watched the younger woman’s face as she settled into one of the chairs. “A rather remarkable specimen, that Aygar. Are there more like him?” She let her voice carry more than a hint of sensuality, and watched a flush spread across Varian’s cheek. So ... did she really think older women had no such interests, or was it jealousy?
“I’ve only encountered a few of his generation - “
“Yes, generation.” Sassinak decided to probe a little deeper. “You’re now forty-three years behind your own. Will you need counseling? For yourself or the others?” She knew they would, but saw Varian push that possibility away. Did she not realize the truth, or was she unwilling to show weakness in front of a stranger?
“I’ll know when I get back to them,” Varian was saying. “The phenomenon hasn’t caught up with me yet.”
Sassinak thought it had, at least in part, but admired the woman for denying it. And what was this going to do to Lunzie? Somehow she wasn’t nearly as worried about her. Varian asked again about the ARCT-10, as if Sassinak would have lied in the first place. A civilian response, Sass thought: she never lied without a good reason, and usually managed without needing to. Someone came in to report that Varian’s sled had been repaired, and Sass brought the interview to a close. Supplies - of course, a planetary governor could requisition anything she required - just contact Ford. Sass knew he would be glad for a chance to get off the plateau and see some of the exotic wildlife. But now ...
“Your medic’s name is Lunzie, isn’t it?” she asked. Varian, slightly puzzled, nodded. Sass let her grin widen, enjoying the bombshell she was about to drop. “I suppose it was inevitable that one of us would encounter her. A celebration is in order. Will you convey my deepest respects to Lunzie?” Varian’s expression now almost made her burst out laughing: total confusion and disbelief. “I cannot miss the chance to meet Lunzie,” Sass finished up. “It isn’t often one gets the chance to entertain one’s great-great-great grandmother.” Varian’s mouth hung slightly open, and her eyes were glazed. Gotcha, thought Sass wickedly, and in the gentlest possible tones asked one of the junior officers to escort Varian to her sled.
Nothing wrong with that young woman that seasoning wouldn’t cure, but - Sass chuckled to herself - it was fun to outwit a planetary governor. Even one who’d had a concussion. She followed Varian’s progress through the ship, and was pleased to note that shock or not, she remembered to check on her crewmate. When Med queried, with a discreet push of buttons, Sass acknowledged and approved his leaving with Varian. Varian, she suspected, never considered that he might have been held.
Ford appeared, and shook his head at her expression. “Captain, you look entirely too pleased about something.”
“I may be. But compared to the last cruise, things are going extremely well, complications and all. Of course we don’t know why the Thek are here, or what they’re going to do, or if that heavyworlder transport has allies following after - “ Ford shook his head. “I doubt that. A hull that size could carry colony seedstock, machinery and all - “
“True. That’s what I’m hoping - but you notice I put a relay satellite in orbit, and left a streaker net out. Just in case. Oh yes - you’re interested in the sort of wild-life they’ve got here, aren’t you?”
“Sure - it was kind of a hobby of mine, and when I was on the staff at Sector III, they had this big museum just down the hill - “
“Good. Are you willing to take o
n a fairly dangerous outside job? And do some acting in the meantime?”
“Of course.” He blanked all the expression off his face and faked a Diplo accent. “I could pretend to be a heavyworlder if you want, but I’m afraid they’d notice something ...”
Sass shook her head at him. “Be serious. I need to know more about this world - direct data, not interpreted by those survivors, no matter how expert they are in their fields. Varian, the co-leader who came today, is entirely too eager to claim sentient status for an avian species. It may be justified, or it may not, but I want independent data. There’s something odd about her reactions to the Iretan-born heavyworlders, too. She ought to be furious, still - she’s less than a ten-day out of coldsleep; she witnessed a murder; the initial indictment filed with Godheir spoke of intentional injury to both co-leaders. That’s all fresh in her mind, or should be. Her reasoning’s correct; the grandchildren of mutineers are not responsible. But it’s just not normal for her to think that clearly when her friends and colleagues have suffered. I’ve seen this kind of idealism backfire - this determination to save every living thing can be carried too far. She’s very dedicated, and very spirited, but I’m not sure how stable she is. With a tribunal coming up to determine the fate of this planet and those people, I need something solid.”
“I see your point, captain, but what do you want me to do?” “Well - I’d guess she’d fall for unconditional enthusiasm. Boyish gush, if you can manage it - and I know you can.” She let her eyes caress him, and he laughed aloud. “Yes - exactly that. Be dinosaur-crazy, act as if you’d do anything for a mere glimpse of them - you’re so lucky to have the chance, and so on. You can start by being skeptical - are they really dinosaurs? Are they sure? Let’s pick a survey team today, and brief them - you can introduce them as fellow hobbyists tomorrow. They’ll probably accept two or three, and if they go for that maybe another two or three later. How’s that sound?”