Sheila’s expression was kind. “Everyone felt that way about Chen Zihua. Especially Praedar. That’s why we’re doing this, instead of waiting until he feels he has to. He’s had enough pain.” “And it’s realistic,” Kat said. “An acceptance therapy to ease the dread of our own fates. Other team members will someday dispose of our belongings. Decades from now, if we’re fortunate enough to live that long. Joe, Sheila, Rosie, me... all us long-termers will probably end up buried on T-W 593. It’s common; career xenoarch field workers tend to make their dig worlds home.”
There was an awkward pause, one Dan finally broke by asking “Where is Praedar?”
“In the main lab, I think,” Kat said. “Working overtime. He refuses to let the grief ride him any more.”
“He can’t,” Dan agreed. “Not with what’s at stake.” He went looking for the expedition’s leader. Praedar was where Kat had said he’d be—preparing exhibits for shipment to T-S 311. The felinoid’s crest was a tangled mat. His bony features were drawn from lack of catnaps. As Dan neared him, Praedar glanced up, regarding the pilot thoughtfully.
They said nothing for several minutes. Then Praedar announced flatly, “We continue. The decided-upon schedule will be followed.” Dan nodded, and Praedar’s starburst gaze dropped to the pilot’s bandaged hands. “You are able to work?”
“What? Oh, this? It’s nothing serious.”
The alien muttered in Whimed, then in Terran: “Humans are so fragile.”
A reference to this injury, or to Chen’s death? Dan said, “Well, admittedly, we’re not as tough as your species. Comes of evolving in a softer environment.”
“Yet you strive, with courage, and sincere effort. It is most admirable.” Praedar was remote, staring through Dan rather than at him. With obvious difficulty, he brought himself back from wherever he’d been mentally. “You will be a full team member at the Assembly. I will supply your accreditation when we arrive. Here is the conference agenda. Familiarize yourself. You will see certain manners of dress are expected. Joe Hughes will be attending. He has extra garb that I believe will fit you...”
Dan had been listening with growing dismay. “Wait a moment. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to rub elbows with those top-grade xenoarchs. I’ll pilot you there, sure. But I was planning to hang close to the Port, keep an eye on the ship...” “You are a Saunder-McKelvey. Your presence is valuable.” Sighing, Dan explained. “I’m not in the same league with Feo and Hope. They’ve got years of degrees and prestige backing them. I...”
“You are a Saunder-McKelvey, ” Praedar repeated stubbornly. “This is useful. It serves the expedition.” He studied the pilot narrowly, gauging Dan’s objections. Then a wan smile curved the felinoid’s mouth. “We have never had a member of your family on our team until now. This has possibly cost us important weight with sponsors and licensers. You are a weapon, as truth is a weapon.”
Dan said, “My being a Saunder-McKelvey can’t cancel out my lack of formal education. I couldn’t lecture on fluidics or—” “Of course not.” There were times when Praedar’s blunt honesty could be disconcerting. He needn’t have snapped up Dan’s modest disclaimer so fast! “There is as yet insufficient material to confirm your fluidics theory. And no paper has been prepared. Your purpose will be to wield an emotional effect upon our colleagues and the media.”
“Reporters,” Dan muttered, unhappy with the prospect. “I haven’t had to deal with that breed in years. As for your scientific cronies...”
“You will assist us.” Those hyponotic eyes locked on the Terran. Then, softening his attack, Praedar explained. “Chen planned this, and he was rarely wrong. He assured me that you have depths of ability and assurance you yourself have forgotten you possess. Chen referred to it as protective coloration. Do not disprove his trust in you.”
Using the dead man’s memory to batter down Dan’s resistance was unfair tactics. “I suppose he meant my adapting so I’d fit into the indie haulers’ world, but...” The Whimed’s personality chopped more ground from under lingering doubts. Dan sighed and said, “Okay. The name game it is, if that’s the way you want it. Against my better judgment. I think you’re expecting too much of me.”
“I do not. Nor did Chen.” Praedar’s smile widened. “Consider this: Whatever luster you add to our expedition, it is a gain over what we had at previous Assemblies.”
And that was that. The boss had decided. Arguments were futile. Dan was getting more and more used to that pattern.
The next few days, during final preparations for launch, Dan practically lived aboard Fiona. By then, the passenger list was completed: Praedar, Ruieb-An, Joe, Kat, and Getz. There was a lot of grumbling over that, though no serious conflict. Scientists helped Dan alter the starhopper’s interior to accommodate her extra load, jerry-rigging web couches, modifying a section of cargo bay for additional life support supplies, and cushioning racks in the hold for the delicate exhibits the team was taking. Extra everything was needed.
Dan constantly updated his estimated fuel expenditure and sweated. This was going to be tight. If necessary, he could make the run to T-S 31I and back without a replacement package. But then he—and the expedition—would be stranded until a regular supply ship deigned to stop. Running one’s fuel to the bottom was a rotten safety practice. Dan hoped those phony ownership papers would convince Port authorities to grant them a fuel top-off.
An already frantic pace went critical. Nerves frayed. Squabbles broke out. Ruieb-An took umbrage when Drastil sneered at the Vahnaj’s bulky array of translation demonstration luggage. Praedar had his hands full averting another mass Vahnaj walkout. Kat was short-tempered. Sheila needled everyone mercilessly. Even easygoing Joe Hughes was snappish. The memory of Chen’s death was an additional, if rarely mentioned, trigger. Some scientists, irked by personality clashes, detached their polygonal sleeping quarters from the combined insta-cells and moved them apart from the main complex. That left their former roommates, understandably annoyed, seeking new bunk space.
The N’lacs were unusually subdued. Sleeg held secret ceremonies in the village, barring all offworlders from the rituals.
Many N’lacs sat for hours near Hanging Rock, gazing stupidly at the boulder, as if unable to comprehend why it was no longer atop the cliff.
D Day 0900! Fiona’s cargo bay was loaded and locked. Her passengers had completed suit and survival drill to Dan’s satisfaction. The launch window was calculated and on the boards.
Nearly everyone came to see the team’s reps off. N’lacs chattered, climbed over vehicles, and clutched at offworlders’ hands. Dan shooed them away from Fiona several times.
“You fella go hunt, huh huh?” Chuss asked him. “Like after rain, when boom crawlers come out of holes? Dutos catch ’em. We catch ’em. Kelfee fly all you fella catch meat, huh huh?”
The likable little e.t. created a vivid picture for Dan—pot-hunting jaunts, communal lizard roasts. He felt a twinge at the idea of leaving T-W 593, even for a few days.
“Catch much meat,” Sheila assured Chuss. “Them fellow go catch Feo and Hope and nail them fellow hide to wall.”
Scientists chuckled at her grisly comment. The N’lacs didn’t understand the reference, but laughed, too, squeaky hiccups of amusement. It was good to see them enjoying themselves, after their melancholy vigils near Chen’s grave.
Chuss flung his skinny arms around Dan’s waist and hugged him, exclaiming, “You come home soon, Kelfee.”
Very affected, Dan patted the e.t.s pate. “I will, Chuss. You take care N’lacs till we fellow return. Huh huh?”
“Yes yes! Take care!” Chuss turned to Praedar, putting his paws into the felinoid’s big hands. “Praedar come home,” the native said simply, a heartfelt plea.
Surprisingly, impulsively, Praedar embraced Chuss, as moved as Dan had been, in his own way. He murmured inaudibly, words meant only for Chuss. Then the boss straightened and said briskly, “It is time to depart.”
There was a last
-moment flurry of farewells. Kat and Sheila, who’d often been at each other’s throats this past week, hugged. Others exchanged handshakes and noisy backslaps and mock-stern exortations to behave. Then pilot and passengers tore themselves away and entered the cabin. Dan made sure his riders were securely tethered and ran through his systems checks while the well-wishers retreated from the takeoff lane.
Power circuits came to life. Redundancy safety scans noted hatches were tight. Fiona swept down the mesa. She reached lift point sooner than the passengers had anticipated. They reacted with a mutual intake of breath.
On the monitors, geographical details shrank rapidly. The complex now resembled a cluster of white bumps on the valley floor. Chuss’ village wasn’t visible at all. In another few seconds, plateau and mountains were dwarfed by widening horizons. The sky darkened from pale blue-green to turquoise to near black. Though Fiona was rising from the dayside, stars began to shine on her forward screens. The curve of the planet’s sphere became apparent. Deserts, ancient riverbeds, oceans, and ranges dwindled, blurred by cloud masses.
Dan gazed at T-W 593, remembering that unidentified blip the monitors had spotted weeks ago. Could he backtrack the thing from this high vantage and find where it had impacted? He had actually reached for the comp before he jerked his hand away.
Sheepish, he wondered why he’d started to do such a dumb thing.
Because he yearned to know. Praedar’s lust for the truth was contagious.
He ordered himself to concentrate on the job at hand and forget his lingering curiosity about that mysterious blip. There were far more important matters to attend to now.
As Fiona climbed, the terminator swung past below again and again. The orbit of the nav-sat and those of the planet’s moons fell behind. The passengers adjusted so well to ascent that Dan had to notify them when he approached FTL hop point. None of the riders had noticed the telltale light on the monitors. Under his supervision, they rechecked safety webbing and braced themselves.
He engaged the S-ME patented hyperdrive, and the universe blinked.
Fiona leaped starward. T-W 593 system’s sun became a glowing dot as the ship hopped in and out of real space.
The passengers settled in for the journey. From Dan’s point of view, this was a short jump. For the scientists, it probably would seem long and uncomfortable, particularly compared to a fast trip aboard a major carrier, which was what they’d originally paid for. The project members were planet-bound people who spent their lives Down There. They were unused to the nature of single-stage starhopping.
Come to think of it, I’m turning planet-bound myself lately, staying put on one world and working with the same people all the time. I kind of like it. Maybe it’s Praedar’s influence—and Kat's and Sheila’s. Hell, blame the whole damned crew plus the N’lacs. The place has a grip on me.
Old-timers said passengers came in two varieties—queasy and easy. The scientists didn’t show any tendency toward nausea, and Dan didn’t have to hold hands. Nevertheless, his riders weren’t easy. They were the most restless beings he’d ever spaced with. His servo pets and games palled quickly. The vid library held their interest longer. Kat, looking over the selection, remarked wryly that now she knew how a mere tech-mech came by such a well-read background.
When the riders weren’t fussing or banging elbows, they talked about their strategies for the Assembly. Dan eavesdropped. There wasn’t any way to avoid doing that! He was resigned to playing the name game Praedar had demanded. The protocol of a big-brain scientific conference, though, daunted the pilot. He was acutely conscious of his lack of formal training. He listened in anxiously, picking up every hint on what lay ahead, preparing himself as best he could.
The passengers’ restlessness hadn’t quite peaked when their destination star centered on the nav grids. Then they became impatient, eager to arrive, nagging Dan with constant questions on their status.
Fiona entered approach mode. Dan made minute course corrections and aligned the vector precisely. The little starhopper moved from a high ecliptic starlane onto T-S 31I ’s planetary line, then went sublight. Grids locked on the solar system’s fifth world. A ship-time hour later, Dan cued the com.
He got a fast response. The voice was crisp and robotic. “T-S 31I Landing Central. We copy your request touchdown coordinates. Please identify.”
Dan hesitated. For the most part, robot navs were simpler to fool than human operators. But servos came in a wide range of models. The supersophisticated type could put a pilot through the gears. His kinsman could afford such a unit, though he might not have bothered. The expense was certainly unnecessary, out here in the stellar boonies, with little traffic in and out of the area.
And yet.. .
He crossed his fingers, fed Fiona's new, phony reg listing to Central, and said, “This is the Praedar’s Project arriving from T-W 593. Our party is here to attend the Xenoarchaeological Assembly. Ready for tracking assignment. Over.”
There was an ominous pause. Dan uncrossed and recrossed his fingers.
How deep was that robot going to dig before it cleared them? “Come on, come on,” he muttered.
As if it had heard him, the servo answered, “Terran Reg IH 447820, you are cleared for landing. Tracking coordinate grid is Quad Five, down eight. Local time at Port is 1109. For your convenience, if you wish to employ manual setdown, winds are westerly at surface at ten KPH, broken cloud at six kilometers on approach Saunder City F-H S-N. Do you require further assistance? Over.”
“Negative. Data on boards. Thank you. Over.”
“Very good. Safe planetfall. Over and out.”
Dan closed the key and shook clenched fists above his head. “It worked! By damn, it worked!”
“You sound surprised,” Kat said. “I thought you assured us that fake title transfer would grease right through, in your words. And what’s this Praedar’s Project stuff?”
“It’s a good name for an expedition or a ship. And much safer than underlining Fiona’s debt status and my blacklisting.” Dan craned his neck, looking toward the bobbing web couch where Praedar floated. “Do you object, boss?”
Getz started to retort. Praedar cut the effigy expert off in midword. “It is a device that succeeds. Approved.”
Joe Hughes said, “I’d love to be a bug on the wall when Feo gets this news from Port Landing Central. What a shock for him and Hope and their protege, Tavares. We didn’t cancel out after all!” Ruieb-An grinned, baring tiny, pointed teeth. Praedar’s smile was predatory. The humans, too—even Getz—relished the situation.
Dan hated to break up the party. “Time to double-check all safety tethers and tie down. Or you’ll land in the Saunders’ infirmary instead of their Assembly.” Hurriedly the scientists obeyed.
Fiona lacked a full-sized shuttle’s superfluous baffling. Descent aboard a single-stager kept passengers awake. Her screens crackled with ionization. Atmosphere screamed past the little ship’s hulls as she reached lower orbits.
Gradually forward momentum decreased as retros stabilized her fall. Screens cleared, revealing a world of heavily forested landmasses girdled by deep seas. Nav beams targeted Fiona toward a city on a bay indenting the coast of the largest continent.
Scans detected vast rain belts. Through breaks in the moisture-laden clouds, Dan stared at the planet. Had T-S 31I been this lush millennia ago, when the N’lac colonists first scouted it? T-W 593 had once been a wetter, cooler place, according to team findings. It might have resembled T-S 31I a great deal, making this look like a perfect place for the N’lacs’ interstellar settlement.
Fiona spiraled lower. Dan searched for traces of ancient N’lac population centers. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could spot a few buried towns and connecting roads, where forests didn’t hide all traces of previous occupation. His growing knowledge pleased him. Those aerial skimmer surveys had taught him plenty.
Dan had no trouble locating the biggest set of ruins, the ones the Saunders were excavatin
g. The site was directly south of the port city. An enormous transparent dome shielded the dig from the weather. No frontier style insta-cells here, no roughing it—not for the dig and not for the port! Saunder City F-H S-N’s shuttle strips were long and well paved. Her street layout was tidy. Several hundred hectares of agriculture plots had been cleared and fenced east of town. It was very impressive for a Settlement of two thousand and remarkably developed for a colony far off normal trade routes and deep in Terran-Whimed border sectors. Treaty negotiations usually made settlement in such sectors more bother than most developers cared to deal with. However, Feo Saunder needn’t concern himself over petty details. He had the money and power to set up a colony anywhere he chose.
The scene below reminded Dan of his approach to another world, years ago. Reid’s family had visited his half sister, Lara McKelvey, governor of Vaughn Settlement. Her capital was a bigger settlement than Feo’s, and the signs of wealth had been even more obvious. In her mansion, there’d been imported clothes, imported foods. She had spacecraft fleets at her disposal. Big-shot Terrans and aliens fought for invitations to her social affairs. Throughout Reid’s stay, Lara had been unfailingly gracious to her impecunious kindred. Yet the contrast between her success and Ried’s recent bankruptcy had hit young Dan hard. It was the first time he’d been fully aware that he wasn’t rich any more.
Nearly twenty years later, and nothing much has changed. But I’m not going to let that stop me!
He took his own sweet time on final line-up and landing, demonstrating his expertise with a feather-light touchdown. That done, Dan taxied slowly to his assigned berth—at the far end of a row of major carriers’ shuttles. Once there, he went methodically through his secure-the-ship checklist. Let Feo’s staffers wait on the Saunders’ poor relation!
Juanita Coulson - [Children of the Stars 04] Page 17