by neetha Napew
“Aye, sir.”
“Just after midday local time,” Wendell had assured them as he set the scout down on a low plateau covered with thick, furry-leaved vegetation. EEC regulations required that an Evaluation Team locate at least five potential landing sites on a planet intended for colonisation. The astrogation chart showed no fewer than ten, one in the chief island of a major archipelago in the southern sea, one on each small continent and more on the larger ones.
As the hatchway opened, Lunzie could hear the scuttling and scurrying of tiny animals fleeing the noisy intrusion. A breeze of fresh, sweet air curled inside invitingly. With force-shield-belts on, Dondara and Vir did the perimeter search so that no indigenous life would be shut inside the protective shield when it was switched on. They gave the go-ahead, and Pollili activated the controls. A loud, shrill humming arose, and dropped almost immediately into a range inaudible to human ears.
If the view from space was lovely, the surface of Ambrosia looked like an artist’s rendition of the perfect planet. The air was crisp and fresh, with just a tantalising scent of exotic flora in the distance. The colours ranged from vivid primaries to delicate pastels and they all looked clean.
Lunzie stepped out of the shuttle into the rich sunlight of dayside. The sky was a pale blue and the cumulus clouds were a pure, soft white. From the hilltop, the scout commanded a panoramic view of an ancient deciduous forest. The treetops were every shade of green imaginable, interspersed every so often with one whose foliage was a brilliant rose pink. Smaller saplings grew on the edge of the plateau, clinging at an absurd angle as if fearful to make the plunge.
Off to the left, an egg-shaped lake glistened in the sun. Lunzie could just pick out the silver ribbons of the two rivers which fed it. One wound down across the breast of the very hill she stood on. Lunzie rested in the sun close to the ship as the other crew members spread out nearby on the slope of the hill and took readings. Under her feet was a thick blue-green grassoid whose stems had a circular cross section.
“More like reeds than grass, but it’s the dominant cover plant,” Elessa explained. “It doesn’t grow to more than six inches in height, which is decent of it. We don’t have to slog through thickets of the stuff, unlike other planets I could name. You have to push it over to sit on it or it sticks you full of holes. See that tree with the pink leaves? The fruit is edible, really succulent, but eat only the ones whose rinds have turned entirely brown. We got the tip from the local avians who wait in hordes for the fruit to ripen. The unripe ones give you a fierce bellyache. Oh, look. I don’t have a sample of that flower.” Carefully, she uprooted a tiny star-shaped flower with a forked tool from among the grassoids and transferred it to a plastic vial. “They have a single deep taproot instead of a spread of small roots, which makes them easy to harvest. It’s the stiff stem that keeps them upright, like the grassoid. You could denude this whole hillside with a tweezers.”
A hovering oval shadow suddenly covered Lunzie and the botanist where they knelt.
“You ought to see more than a single meadow, Doctor,” Dondara scolded her from above, appearing from the rear of the ship in a two-man sled. “You’re enjoying a rare privilege. Not twelve intelligent life-forms have seen this landscape before. Come on,” he beckoned her into the sled. “I’ve got some readings to take. You can come with me.”
Reminding herself of her drink-taken vow to trust individuals of any subgroup, Lunzie levered herself to her feet and climbed in after him. Elessa looked up as she went by and seemed about to say something to her, but changed her mind. Lunzie looked questioningly at the botanist but the girl shot her a “What can I tell you?” expression. Lunzie had confided her distrust to the botanist during the long flight here and Elessa only reiterated the statement that Zebara and those on the scout were truly in a class all their own.
The medic wondered as she and Dondara passed through the force-shield and flew over the meadow. The terrain was dramatically different less than half a mile from the grassy landing site. Beyond the breast of the knobby hill which bounded the lake on its other side, the land began to change. The foliage was thinner here, reduced from lush forestry to a thin cover of marsh plants. Water flowed over worn shelves of rock, stained with red-brown iron oxide and tumbled into teeming pools. Nodules of pyrite in the rock faces glittered under the midday sun. Lunzie caught the occasional gleam of a marine creature in the shallow pools near a broad sweep of rapids that swept and foamed around massive boulders. In the distance, more forest covered the bases of rough, bare mountain peaks.
“Quite a division here; this could be another world entirely,” Lunzie announced, delighted, twisting around in her seat to get the best view.
Dondara activated his force-belt and signalled to her to do the same as he set the sled down.
“This is a different continental plate from the landing site,” Dondara explained, splashing through a pool.
Lunzie skirted it to follow him. He pointed out geological features which supported his theory, including an upthrust face of sedimentary rock that was a rust-streaked gray which contrasted with the sparkling granite of the hilly expanse of the continent. With unexpected courtesy, he helped her up onto a well-worn boulder peeked with small pools.
“This was once a piece with the landmass across the ocean northeast of here, got slid over a spreading centre over a few million years. This plate is more brittle. But it’s got its own interesting life-forms. Come here.” He gestured her over to a tubular hollow in the rock.
Lunzie peered at the hole. It was so smooth that it could have been drilled by a laser. “What’s down there?”
“A very shy sort of warm-water crustacean. It’ll only come out when the sky is overcast. If you stand over the hole, it’ll think it is cloudy.” Curious, Lunzie leaned down. “Look closely and be patient.”
Dondara moved back and sat down on a dry shelf nearby. “You’ve got to turn off your force-belt, or it won’t come out. The frequency annoys them.”
As soon as she had deactivated the belt, she could see movement deep in the hollow. Lunzie knelt closer and spread her shadow over the opening. She heard a soft clattering noise, a distant but distinct rattle of porcelain. Suddenly, she was hit in the face by a fountaining stream of warm water. Lunzie jumped back, sputtering. The water played down the front of her tunic and then ceased.
“What on Earth was that?” she demanded, wiping her face.
Dondara roared with laughter, making the stones ring. He rolled back and forth on his stone perch, banging a hand against the rock in his merriment.
“Just a shy Ambrosian stone crab!” he chortled, enjoying the look on her face. “They do that every time something blocks their lair. Ambrosia has baptised you! You’re one of us now, Lunzie!” Once she recovered from the surprise, Lunzie realised that she had fallen for one of the oldest jokes in the database. She joined in Dondara’s laughter.
“How many of the others did you sting with your ‘shy rock crustacean’?” she asked suspiciously.
The heavyworlder was pleased. “Everyone but Zebara. He smelled vermin, and refused to come close enough.” Dondara grinned. “You’re not mad?”
“Why? But you can be sure I won’t get caught a second time. Here on Ambrosia or anywhere else,” Lunzie promised him. She was also obscurely pleased that she had been set up. She’d passed a subtle test. She was also soaking and the air was chilly, weak lightweight that she was. She flicked some of the excess off her hands and shirt.
“You really got a dose. Must have roused the granddaddy. If I don’t offend your lightweight sensibilities, you better get yourself back to the scout. Take the sled.” She was beginning to feel that such solicitude was only to be expected from one of Zebara’s crew. “I’ve got to take some temperature readings in the hot springs upstream. The exercise will do me good. I’ve got my communicator.” With a hearty wave, the big humanoid waded off upstream.
Lunzie activated the sled’s power pack to fly back up the hill to th
e ship. Just about halfway there, she began to assimilate the full implications of that little encounter. Dondara had treated her to the “baptism” as he had probably done everyone else on the scout . . . enjoying his little joke. She had taken no umbrage and begged no quarter. But he had been considerate without being patronising, recognising certain lightweight problems rarely encountered by heavyworlders - like a propensity for catching chills.
“Will such minor wonders never cease?” she said to herself, ruffling her slowly drying hair.
“What happened to you?” Vir called as she came into view. “Dondara had me baptised Ambrosian style,” Lunzie shouted back, holding out the front of her clammy wet tunic with her good hand.
As she came upon Elessa, she saw that the botanist was grinning. “You knew he was going to do that.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl giggled. “I almost stopped you; he’s such an awful practical joker. To make amends, I found you a kittisnake to examine. Aren’t they adorable? And so friendly.” She held up a small handful of black fur.
“Hang on to it for me,” Lunzie called.
She set the sled down behind the scout. Elessa met her halfway and wound the length of animal around her hands.
“This is one of the most plentiful life-forms on Ambrosia,” the botanist explained, “oddly enough omnivorous. They’re really Bringan’s province but they so love the attention that they’re irresistible.”
The kittisnake had a small round face, with a round nose and round ears which peered out of its sleek, back-combed fur. It had no limbs, but it was apparent where the thicker body joined the more slender tail. Two bright green eyes with round black pupils opened suddenly and regarded Lunzie expressionlessly. It opened its mouth, revealing two rows of needles, and aspirated a breathy hiss.
“It likes you,” Elessa declared, interpreting a response which Lunzie had misjudged. “Pet it. It won’t bite you.”
It certainly seemed to enjoy the caress, twisting itself into pretzel knots as Lunzie ran her hands down its length. She grinned up at the botanist.
“Responsive, aren’t they? Good ambassadors for a flourishing tourist trade on Ambrosia.”
While Lunzie was making friends with the kittisnake, a light breeze sprang up. She suddenly decided she needed a warmer tunic over her injured arm. Though the bones had already been knit together by Bringan, the swollen tissue had yet to subside. Lunzie felt her flesh was starting to creep.
“Excuse me, will you?” she asked the botanist.
She squeezed past Zebara, poised in the open hatchway of the scout. He greeted the doctor, raising an eyebrow at her wet hair and clothes.
“Dondara took you to see the snark, huh?”
“A granddaddy snark to judge by the volume of baptismal waters.” She grinned up at the heavyworlder.
“Haven’t you raised Fleet yet, Flor?” the captain asked, turning back from the hatchway toward the semicircular pilot’s compartment. The communications station occupied another quarter arc of the circle facing the rear of the ship between the telemetry station and the corridor.
“Aye, aye, sir,” called the communications tech. “I’m just stripping the message from the beacon now. They acknowledge your request and have despatched the Zaid-Dayan.”
“The who? That’s a new designation on me,” Zebara growled. Lunzie caught the note of suspicion in his voice.
“Be glad, sir. Brand-new commission, on its maiden voyage,” Flor said apologetically. “Heavy cruiser, ZD-43, the Registry says, with lots of new hardware and armament.”
“What? I don’t want to have to wet-nurse an unintegrated lot of lightweight lubbers ...” Zebara sighed, pushing back into the communications booth and looking over Flor’s shoulder.
Lunzie slipped in behind him. “Isn’t telemetry showing a trace?” she said, noticing the blip on the current sweep of the unit.
“Is that the ZD-43 arriving now? Wait, there’s an echo. I see two blips.” Zebara eased her aside with one huge hand and inserted himself into the telemetry officer’s chair. “Oh-oh! Pollili!” he roared. His voice echoed out onto the hillside. The broad-faced blond woman appeared on the breast of the slope below the shuttle and hurried up it at double time. “Interpret this trace for me,” Zebara ordered. “Is this an FSP vessel of any kind? Specifically a new cruiser?”
Pollili took the seat next to Flor as her captain moved aside. She peered at the controls and toggled a computer analysis. “No way. It’s not FSP. Irregular engine trace, overpowered for its size. I’d say it’s an intruder.”
“A pirate?” Lunzie heard herself ask.
“Two, to be precise.” Zebara’s expression was ferocious. “They must have been hanging in the asteroid belt or dodging us around the sun. How close are they to making orbit?”
“An hour, maybe more. I get traces of big energy weapons, too,” Pollili said, pointing to a readout on her screen. “One of ‘em is leaking so much it’s as much a danger to the ship carrying it as it is to us. An academic point, to be sure, since we’re unarmed.”
“Will they land?” Lunzie asked, alarmed.
“I doubt it. If we can see them, they can see us. They know someone is down here, but they don’t know who or what,” Zebara said.
“Forgive me for pointing out a minor difficulty, sir,” Flor said in a remarkably level, even droll tone, “but they can dispose of us from space. The ZD-43 is at least three days behind us,” she added, her healthy colour beginning to pale. “Once they realise we’re alone here, they’ll kill us. Is there nothing we can do?”
Zebara smiled, showing all of his teeth.
What was it Bringan had said? When he grins like a shark, watch out?
“We bluff. Flor, send another message to the Zaid-Dayan. Tell them that we’ve got two pirates circling Ambrosia. Tell them to take any shortcuts they can. Force multiple jumps. If they don’t hurry, we’ll be just a scorch mark and crater on the landscape. We’re going to stall the inevitable just as long as we can.”
“How?” Lunzie demanded, wishing she felt as confident as Zebara sounded.
“That, Doctor, is what we must figure out. Flor, have you sent that? Good. Now get on the general communicator channel and get the crew back here for a conference.
“I want your most positive thinking on how we can keep those pirates off planet,” Zebara began once the crew had assembled in the messroom.
“Those blips couldn’t possibly be anything else, could they?” Bringan asked after clearing his throat.
Zebara gave a short bark of laughter. “They haven’t answered hails and their profile doesn’t match anything in our records. And it’s not good neighbourliness they’re leaking. Think, my friends. Think hard. How do we stall them?”
“No black box, huh?” asked Vir, a thin human with straight black hair and a bleak expression.
Flor shook her head. “Those would be a long time disconnected.” No legitimate ship would put out into space without the black box interface between control systems and engines which transmitted automatic identification signals. To disconnect it disabled the drives. Unscrupulous engineers had been known to jury-rig components, but such a ship would never be allowed in an FSP-sanctioned port.
Zebara smashed his fist into a palm. “Stop denying the problem. Think. We’ve got to stall them long enough to let the Zaid-Dayan reach Ambrosian space.”
No one spoke for a long moment. No one even exchanged glances in the tense atmosphere of the wardroom.
“What if we take off? Can’t we outrun them?” Vir demanded to Wendell, the pilot.
“Not a chance,” Wendell said sadly. “My engines don’t have the kick to push us far enough out of their range to make a warp jump. They’d catch us halfway there.”
“So we’re stuck on this planet while the predators line us up in their sights,” Dondara growled, scrubbing his dusty hair with his hands. He had taken only thirty minutes to run the distance from the pools after he’d received Flor’s mayday recall. Lunzie was ful
l of admiration for the heavyworlder’s stamina.
Scarran cleared his throat. His perpetually red-shot brown eyes made him look choleric or sleepy and he had a naturally mild personality.
“What about a violent disease of some sort? We’re all dead and dying of it. Highly contagious. Can’t find an antidote,” he suggested in a self-deprecating voice.
“No, that wouldn’t work,” Pollili scoffed, drawing her brows together. “Even assuming they’re of a species with enough in common with ours to catch it, they’d blow our ship off the face of the planet to wipe out the contagion and then land where they pleased.”
“What about natural disaster?” asked Elessa, collecting nods from Flor and Scarran. “Unstable tectonics? An earthquake! A volcano about to blow? They’d have sacrificed scanning potential to some sort of weaponry.”
“Possibly,” Pollili drawled. “Even the simplest telemetry systems warn you if you’re going to put down on a shifting surface. And live volcanoes show up as hot spots on infrared.”
“What about a hostile life-form?” Lunzie asked, and was generally hooted down by the others.
“What, attack ferrets?” Elessa held up the black-furred kittisnake, which curled around her hands, cooing breathily to show its contentment. “If the pirates are after Ambrosia when FSP has scarcely heard of its existence, they already know what’s down here, besides us. Sorry, folks.” “Hold it a moment,” Bringan said, raising a hand. “Lunzie has made a positive suggestion that merits discussion. Lunzie ...”
“I had in mind a free bacterium that gets into your breathing apparatus and caulks it up with goo,” Lunzie said, warming to her topic. “Five of our officers are down with it already. Nothing, not even breather masks, seems to keep it out. I feel that it’s only a matter of time before they die of oxygen deprivation. The organism didn’t appear in our initial reports because it’s inert, sluggish during the winter months. It dies off in the cold. Now that the climate’s warmed up for summer, the bug reproduces like mad. We’re all infected. I’ve just discovered that it’s gotten into the ventilation system, housed in the filters. I doubt we’d ever be able to lift off again, with the ship’s air-recycling system fouled. I’m putting Ambrosia on indefinite quarantine. Only moral, ethical action possible to a medic or any professionality. Contact between ships is likely to doom them both. In fact, it’s my professional opinion that the ARCT-10 is in real danger since Zebara and Wendell were on board to report to Admin. Their lungs were already contaminated and the air they exhaled from their lungs would now be in the ARCT’s air-recirculation system. Lungs are always warm - until the host is dead.”