Sassinak

by Anne McCaffrey

  She saw a crewman flinch from her expression, and realized her thoughts had control of her face again. This would never do. She wondered if Lunzie felt the same tangle of feelings. If she thought her ancestress should somehow be older, in experience, perhaps Lunzie felt that Sassinak should be younger. And yet she'd had that jolt of sympathy, that instant feeling of recognition, of kinship. They'd be able to work their way through the tangle somehow. They had to. For the first time since her capture, Sassinak felt a longing for something outside Fleet. Perhaps she shouldn't have avoided her family all these years. It might not have been so bad, and certainly Lunzie wasn't the stuff of nightmares.

  She caught herself grinning as she remembered Mayerd's tart comments. No, Lunzie wasn't a raving beauty—though she wasn't exactly plain either, at least not in that green dress, and she had the warm personality which could draw attention when she wanted it. And Lunzie approved of her, at least so far. It will work out, she thought again, fiercely. I'm not going to lose her without at least trying. Trying what, she could hardly have said.

  From this musing, the alarm roused her to instant alertness. Now what? Now, it seemed, the Thek were appearing, and demanding that the expedition leaders be brought to the landing site.

  "Ford, take the pinnace," said Sassinak, ignoring Timran's eager upward glance. She had finally let him take an airsled on one of the supply runs, and he'd managed to drop one crate on its corner and spew the contents all over the landing area. One disk-reader landed on an Iretan's foot, creating another diplomatic crisis (fortunately brief: they were barely willing to acknowledge pain, which made it hard to claim injury), and Tim was grounded again.

  While the pinnace was on its way, she tried to guess what the Thek were up to this time. They'd been acting like ephemerals, in the past few days, whizzing from place to place, digging up cores, and, unusual for Thek, chattering with humans. Then the Thek appeared above the landing grid.

  "Large targets," said Arly, her fingers nervously flicking the edges of her control panel. They were, in fact, the largest Thek Sassinak had ever seen.

  "They're friendly," she said, wishing she was entirely sure of that. She had enough to explain to the admiral now, without a Thek/human row.

  "Are they coming to see us, or that co-leader fellow?"

  "Or them?" Sassinak pointed to the main screen, showing two of the largest Thek descending near the heavyworlder transport. "Umm. Let's treat it as diplomatic: Major Currald, let's have a formal reception out there, and," she turned, quickly pointing at officers with the most experience in working with aliens, "you, and you, and—yes, you. We'll assume a delegation's coming, and since we represent FSP here, they'll come to us."

  By the time she reached Troop Deck and the landing ramp, two of the smallest Thek had planted themselves on the grid nearby. Around the bulge of the Zaid-Dayan, she could see a section of the pinnace as Ford landed it.

  But the Thek appeared to be far more interested in Kai than in the cruiser's welcoming committee. One of them actually greeted him, in recognizable if strained speech. Sassinak motioned her officers to silence and did not interrupt. Whatever was going on, she'd find out more by going along with the Thek plan.

  The Thek offered a core to Kai for examination; he gave the coordinates of its original location. Thunder rumbled underfoot: Sassinak noticed nothing in the sky. Theks talking to Theks? Sassinak glanced at each of them in turn: the immense ones and a medium-huge one near the heavyworlder colony ship, the medium-large and relatively smaller ones nearby. After a moment's silence, Sassinak leaned forward.

  "Kai, ask if this planet is claimed by Thek." Although she spoke as softly as she could, the Thek answered her instantly.

  "Verifying." Then, a moment later, "Dismiss. Will contact."

  Kai turned to Sassinak, a look between respect, frustration, and annoyance. Well, she had intruded on his private conversation. She shrugged, and tried to lighten the mood.

  "Dismissed, are we?"

  Apparently that worked, for she could see his lips twitching with controlled laughter. Ford gave her a fast wink, then smoothed his face into utter blandness as Kai looked at him. What had Ford been up to with the co-leader? The wink told her only that he'd have a good story to tell later . . . and she'd have to wait to hear it. In the meantime, she dismissed the honor guard, who departed cursing quietly at having been put into the tight-collared formal uniform in this heat if it wasn't really necessary, and invited Kai up for a visit.

  He certainly looked better today, far more the sort of vigorous, outgoing young geologist who had been chosen co-leader with Varian. For a moment she wondered if he and Varian had ever paired up—and if so, why they weren't paired now.

  But the real question was what the Thek were doing on Ireta. So many Thek on one supposedly unclaimed planet was as great a mystery as anything else. Kai ventured hardly any explanation, beyond saying that perhaps the Thek were "worried." Sassinak wondered if that was really all he thought, or all he thought he should say. She had no reason to hide her chain of logic from him, and went on to explain, watching closely for his reaction.

  "A convocation of such size surely suggests a high degree of interest, Kai. And that old core—that was the same core which brought Tor?" He nodded, and she went on. "All those little Thek sucking up old cores—when they weren't frying fringes . . . you see my point, surely. Your EEC ship's records, and Fleet records, both list Ireta as unexplored. Yet you found Thek relics and the first Thek on scene appeared surprised at them. Doesn't that suggest a missing link in the famous Thek chain of information? Something happened, here on Ireta, to one or more Theks, which somehow did not transmit to the others?"

  Kai followed her argument but his expression settled on anxiety rather than relief. "The old core is of Thek manufacture," he said, almost reluctantly. "Unquestionably it's generated Thek interest. But I can't see why . . ."

  Sassinak felt a moment's impatience. The scientists always wanted to know why, before they halfway understood exactly what had happened. Or so it seemed to her. She was glad enough to put events in order, sure she had all the relevant parts, before worrying about why and what if. She let Kai and her officers go on talking, wandering their own logical or illogical paths through Thek behavior, the geology of Ireta, and the probable age of the core in question.

  A light flashed on her console: message from the bridge. She thumbed the control on her earplug. "Sir, all those little Thek have landed near the original expedition campsite . . ."

  With two key punches, she had that up on one of the screens and the scene stopped Kai in mid-sentence.

  "Every fringe on Ireta is homing in on our campsite," he said, his expression anxious.

  It took her a moment to realize what he meant: the heat exuded by so many Thek would inevitably attract fringes, just as one Thek had attracted the fringe that had attacked Kai. Before she could think of something to reassure him, the screen showed new Thek activity as a score or more spun away crazily into the sky and offscreen. Now what were they doing? Kai looked as confused as she felt.

  By this time, Sassinak felt the need of refreshment and, noticing that Kai looked a little wan, she invited him into the officer's mess. A few deft comments from her and Kai, and Anstel and Pendelman were into a lively discussion of Iretan geology with excursions into evolutionary biology. Sassinak listened politely enough, but with the internal feeling of the adult listening to eight-year-olds discussing the merits of competing toys. At least they were busy and happy, and if they stayed out of trouble, she might get some work done.

  Varian's arrival added another bit of fizz to the meeting, so that Sassinak had no need to keep up any corner of the conversation. Relaxed, she let herself think about the Thek from a Fleet perspective. If the data relays had all worked correctly—and she knew whose heads would roll if they hadn't—they'd gathered more information about Thek in flight and landing today than Fleet had anywhere in its files.

  Her technical specialists, now busil
y talking hyracotheriums and golden fliers with Varian, had already taken discreet samples of the landing grid and the plateau face. Those data, along with the observations of the large Thek sinking into the landing grid, should reveal more about the way Thek handled heat dispersion.

  Varian broke into her musings with the kind of questions a planetary governor ought to ask, Sassinak noted. Were the Thek known to be interested in planet piracy? Were they indeed? She wished she knew.

  The meeting broke up shortly after that, with Anstel now in the role of one of the "science officers" accompanying Varian and Kai. The rest of that day, Sassinak spent composing messages for Sector Headquarters, and poring over the first, incomplete replies to her queries. Fleet had to be informed that the Thek were there, and rather than be bombarded by stupid questions when she was likely to be busy, better that they be supplied with some sort of explanation . . . but the admiral would want all the data. In order.

  Her original signals, asking for clarification of Mazer Star's status, the Ryxi colony's status, and so on, had of necessity been brief. The incoming stack in her official file had its own priorities. Only one item surprised her, and that was "predominant owner" of the company holding title to the heavyworlder transport: Paraden.

  She thought of the pale-eyed, red-headed young man who had tried to get her in such trouble in the Academy, and of Luisa Paraden's connection (of sorts) to the slaver she and Huron had captured. This time it was Arisia Paraden Styles-Hobart, holding fifty three percent, and not on the board of directors at all . . . but Fleet had been able to discover that she was active in the company . . . or at least A. P. Hobart, whose ID for tax purposes was the same, was the "Assistant Director of Employee Assignment." Handy, if you wanted to hire a crooked man to captain your crooked ship.

  She wondered where Randolph Neil Paraden had ended up: somewhere in Newholme? The treasurer or something? Surely not; Fleet would have noticed that, too. The good news was that the ARCT-10 had shown up—or at least its message to Sector HQ had arrived. Severe damage from a cosmic storm (Sassinak quirked her lips: "investigating a cosmic storm" was a stupid sort of civilian idea. Space had enough hazards when you tried to play it safe), some (unlisted) casualties, but "no great loss of life." Whatever that meant to a ship the size of most moons, with a normal shipboard population in the thousands in a variety of races.

  They'd lost their FTL capability, and most of their communications, and spent nearly all the elapsed time hobbling toward a nearby system at well below lightspeed. No real hardship for those who lived their lifetimes on board anyway, but it must have been tough on the "temporary" specialists who'd expected to be home in six months.

  And, of course, for the ones left behind on Ireta. Sassinak's hand hesitated on the console. Should she call Kai now, or wait until tomorrow? She glanced at the time, and decided to wait. They'd be getting ready for that gathering she'd heard about, and perhaps by morning she'd have a list of casualties so that he could quit worrying (or start mourning) his family. And those children—their parents on the ship would be old, or dead, by now. She could and did call up Mazer Star to confirm that she'd received Fleet clearance for them.

  "And you should receive some kind of official recognition," she told Godheir. "There's a category for civilian assistance. Depending on the tribunal outcome, it might even mean a cash bonus for you and your crew; certainly I'll recommend it."

  "Ye don't have to do that, Commander Sassinak . . ." Captain Godheir's screen image looked appropriately embarrassed.

  "No, but you deserve it. Not just for your quick response, although it's in everyone's interest to encourage honest citizens to respond to mayday calls, but for your continued willingness to help the expedition. I know you aren't designed to deal with youngsters recovering from that kind of trauma. And I know you and your crew have spent a lot of hours with them."

  "Well, they're good kids, after all, and it's not their fault. And no family with them."

  "Yes, well, I expect, with the Thek here, this will wrap up shortly, and you'll be free to go. But you have my gratitude for your help."

  "I'm just glad you weren't the pirate I thought you at first," said Godheir, rubbing his head. "When you hailed us, that's all I could think of."

  Sassinak grinned at him; she could imagine that having something like the Zaid-Dayan suddenly pop up behind him could have startled a peaceful transport captain. "I was just as glad to find that you weren't an armed slaver escort. Oh, by the way, do you have as many dinosaur buffs as I seem to have brought along?"

  "A few, yes. They're convening at the main camp tonight, along with some of yours, I think."

  "That's what I thought."

  His expression asked if she had a problem with that, and she didn't, except to wonder if fanning the flames of the dinosaur enthusiasts had been such a good idea.

  "I don't expect any trouble from Captain Cruss, with the Thek nearby, but still—"

  "I'm taking precautions, Commander," he said quickly, not quite offended at her presumption. Sassinak nodded, glad he'd taken the hint, and willing to have him a little huffy with her. Better that than trouble in the night.

  "I assumed you had, Captain Godheir," she said. "But so many things aren't going according to Regulations already . . ." He smiled, again relaxed.

  "Right you are, and we'll be buttoned up tight. I'll tell my crew not to overdo the hospitality juice, whatever it is and wherever it comes from."

  Dupaynil was waving at her from the corridor; Sassinak signed off, and turned to him.

  "Captain, we got the homing capsule stripped," he said happily. "And a fine bit of imaginative writing that was, let me tell you. Imaginative wiring, too. We're still doing forensics on it. We've got surface deposit/erosion scans going, another seven hours on that, and there's a new technique for analyzing biochemical residues, but basically we've got Cruss and Co. in a locked cell right now."

  "In order?" suggested Sassinak. Dupaynil nodded, and laid it all out for her.

  "A fake, of course; a clever one, but a fake. First the homing capsule itself, which clearly shows the pitting and scarring one would expect from some four decades of space travel. Except where the propulsion unit and so on were removed—not by natural causes, either, but by tools available to any civilized world. Then roughed up to a pretense of the distressed natural surface."

  "Which tells you that the homing capsule went somewhere, then was broken apart, and returned—"

  "Probably with Cruss in his ship, although not certainly. It might have been placed for him to find. Now the message . . . the message was clever, very clever. Ostensibly, it's the message Cruss told you, the one he let us 'copy' from his computer. It's not a long message, and it repeats six times."

  Dupaynil cocked his head, giving Sassinak the clear impression that he wanted her to guess what followed. "And then another message?" she prompted. "On the loop behind those?"

  "Precisely. I was sure the Commander would anticipate. Yes, after six boring repetitions, which any ordinary rescuer must have assumed would go on until the end, we found a sixty second delay—presumably the number of repetitions coded the length of the following delay—and then the real message. The location of Ireta; the genetic data of the surviving heavyworlders, including the planned breedings for several generations; a brief account of the local biology and geology; a list of special supplies needed; a recommendation for founding colony size. There are, as you would expect, no destination codes remaining. We cannot prove, from the message alone, who were its intended recipients. For that we await the physical evidence of the shell; it is just possible that its travels are, in a way, etched on its surface. But what they sent was an open invitation: this is who we are, where we are, and what we have. Come join us."

  Sassinak could think of no adequate comment. Proof indeed that the mutineers were intentional planet pirates. She took a long breath and let it out. Then: "Are you sure they intended it for heavyworlders exclusively?"

  "Oh yes. The
genetic types they asked for all code that way. Besides, I've now got the old Security data on the mutineers. Look, Separationists, but not Purists. All of them, at one time or another, were in one of two political or religious movements."

  "And no one spotted this beforehand?" She felt a rumble of anger that no one had noticed, and therefore people had died, and others had lost over forty years of their lives.

  Dupaynil shrugged eloquently. "Exploration ships do not welcome Security, especially not Fleet Security. They insist that their specialists must have the freedom to investigate, to think for themselves. Of course I am not against that, but it makes it very hard to prevent the 'chance' connivance of those whose associations cause trouble."

  "Umm. I expect that Kai and Varian will visit again tomorrow, Dupaynil, and I would prefer to withhold this until we have the physical data—or until something else happens. At the rate things are going wild, something else may indeed make disclosure necessary."