Crisis On Doona

by Anne McCaffrey

  He’d look first for those animals which had been discovered dead. The cause of their demise would be in the records ... and there were quite a few. All with the initials MA for Mark Aden, Lon Adjei’s former assistant. SS meant ssersa poisoning, MS for snake, M for mda, A for accident—broken leg or some other injury which resulted in euthanasia. The unexplained disappearances, however, began to increase over the last few years.

  The fact that the Reeve Ranch suffered the most losses and that the spurious hide marks were all Reeve brands as well worried Todd. Admiral Landreau was back on Doona. Any example of incompetence, any whiff of dishonesty that could be charged against the Reeves, could be seized on and used by Landreau and others to try and get them deported, could work against the welfare of the entire colony. This was too precarious a time for him to be trapped by a home arrest, out of circulation, out of action when he was most needed. Anger suffused Todd. Ever since he set foot on Doona, he had defended the ideal it exemplified—harmonious cohabitation. He knew to the marrow of his bones, the cells of his blood, the lungs that breathed clear Doonan air, that Hrriss felt an equal dedication.

  Why had he decided that they had to answer that Mayday? He answered himself. Because, being who he was, reared as he was, he could have done nothing else. And someone very clever had counted on that! He couldn’t quite see Admiral Landreau being so psychologically astute. Rogitel, now, he might. But Todd had had little intercourse with the commander—only that one meeting on Hrretha. Not really time enough in desultory formal responses for even a trained psychologist to have taken that kind of measure of anyone.

  Another file for a missing horse recalled him to the task at hand and he punched the print button. The stack of films beside him was growing.

  He’d had to make a joke out of DeVeer suspecting him of doing the smuggling for profit. And yet, with all those valuables found on the Albatross, it wouldn’t be so hard for someone else to accept that possibility. But for anyone to think that he, Todd Reeve, or Hrriss, son of Hrrestan, Hrruban leader of Rrala, would sully all they had lived for, worked for... that was very hard to swallow. The beautiful dream that was Doona was inexorably slipping away from his grasp, deny it though he might. Ilsa had never understood his passion for Doona. And really, neither did Robin or Inessa, but they had never lived under the restraints of Earth society, so they’d no idea what they’d lose. He wished for the millionth time that he could talk to Hrriss. If it wasn’t for the support of his family, the often stumbling reassurances of old friends, the wisdom of Hrruvula, his counsel, and Kelly’s daily visits, he would find that unendurable.

  The cheery “One Moment Please” graphic appeared on the screen again. Todd felt another rush of hot rage, which he fought to dispel. It didn’t do any good to tear himself up, but he was frustrated and angry. Instead of being out there, offering support for the ongoing Treaty talks which would cement permanent relations between Earth and Hrruba, ensuring Doona’s continuance, Todd was being used as a pawn to break the colony and the alliance. Every time he answered one charge or began to solve one problem, another cropped up to claim his attention. It was curious, because everything seemed centered on him or his father. And that incontrovertibly led to Admiral Al Landreau as the most likely origin of this complex conspiracy. He had no proof nor the freedom of movement to secure any.

  Why did animosity consume Landreau to the point where his revenge on the Reeves, father and son, embraced Doona, and all the good that had been achieved over a quarter of a century?

  Todd searched his memory of those early days on Doona. Of course, he had arrived after Ken and the other ten colonists had struggled through an unbelievably long and cold winter to build homes for their families when the ship arrived in the springtime. Eleven men, placed alone on a supposedly uninhabited planet, had to make all the decisions of socialization and civilization that would frame a new world. They courageously faced physical hazards and the incredible moral obligation. When Ken had discovered the Hrruban village, they had been ready to leave in obedience to the prohibitions which had been hammered into their heads almost from birth: cohabitation with another species could only result in the destruction of the other species. But the Hrrubans were no gentle, vulnerable, sensitive ephemerals.

  Circumstances had swept the Terrans along at a furious pace, and they had found themselves cohabiting, with no way to adhere to their decision to leave Doona. Todd grinned, wishing he had been more aware when his father had lost his temper at the various bureaucrats who had blamed the colonists for the untenable situation. Once the mutual benefits of this trial cohabitation had been understood, Alreldep, with Admiral Sumitral, and Codep had accepted with fair grace. But Landreau, the Spacedep representative, never forgot and showed no hint of forgiveness.

  Todd took a break from the computer and got up to stretch. He raised his arms over his head and heard the crack as muscles protested being forced to remain too long in the same position. At some point, his mother had quietly left a pitcher of juice, some buttered bread, and the final wedge of the dinner pie on a tray on the worktop. Gratefully he poured a glass of juice and, with the pie in one hand, walked to the window. He was thankful every day for the abundance of real and tasty food. He still remembered the metallic taste of childhood meals, the sameness of each supposedly nutritious meal. He had always felt hungry.

  He pushed open the window and leaned his elbows on the frame. The sun was starting to drop behind the trees over the river at the bottom of the pasture. He wished he could be out and doing, back at his job, able to visit his friends. Even when he was a small boy, he had hated confinement. Never mind that his prison was the many acres of his father’s ranch: his freedom of movement had been severely curtailed and he was unused to that. It was, however, better than a genuine incarceration in a four-by-four-meter cell. The only times he had been allowed to leave the ranch over the last two weeks had been to appear on Treaty Island, for more questioning. Each time, he had hoped for a glimpse of Hrriss, but their visits didn’t coincide. The prosecutors were being careful to keep them strictly apart.

  The incriminating evidence of illegal artifacts found on the Albatross was quite enough to convict them of criminal activities inconsonant with the positions of trust both he and Hrriss had held. With Landreau and Rogitel briefing their attorneys, this could call into question the success of the Doona Experiment of Cohabitation. That would be a rather farfetched allegation, since one Hayuman and one Hrruban were involved, not two members of the same species working against the interests of the other.

  Their defense attorney was Hrruvula, a brilliant Hrruban advocate of the same Stripe as First Speaker but young enough to be light-furred, a shade that the horseman in Todd named buckskin. His stripe, while still narrow, was a dark accent to his fine hide. His Standard was as fluent as a nativeborn Terran and indeed he had assiduously studied both the language and the legal systems of Earth as well as those of his home planet. He had one assistant, the physical opposite of his tall muscular self, a diminutive dark-haired, dark-complected Terran named Sue Bailey, a name Todd thought inordinately appropriate for a legal clerk. During all the sessions Todd had attended, she said little, rarely glancing up from the square portable over which her fingers flew in taking down their conversations.

  Hrruvula made no bones about the fact that the evidence—tape and objects, and most especially the Byzanian Glow Stone—damned Todd and Hrriss. Todd suggested that Poldep had not investigated any of the anomalies or made any attempt to question other suspects.

  “When they have you and Hrriss, with your fingers in the till as it were,” Hrruvula said, revealing a fine understanding of old Terran metaphors that would delight Kelly, “they have no motivation to look for anyone else. But you two have no motive that I have been able to discover. You both have the reputation of indisputable honor and dedicated responsibility. You both have a splendid future on Doona, and only fools, which neither of you are, would jeopar
dize such a future so near to its real inauguration: the renegotiation of the Treaty of Doona.”

  “Have you discovered anyone else with such motive?”

  Hrruvula lifted his shoulders. “As you suggested, Admiral Landreau’s public animosity toward Doona as well as his frequent assertions that he would “get the Reeves” have been verified. Documentation has been provided by many eminent personages. But there is no proof ...”

  “There has to be ...” Todd had interrupted. Hrruvula held up his first digit, claw tip showing.

  His jaw had dropped slightly and his eyes sparkled. “Yet.” Then Hrruvula had asked if they had any more information about the hides.

  * * *

  The Treaty Council members sat looking austere and troubled, facing Commander Landreau over the Council table. The head of Spacedep was flanked by Rogitel, his assistant, and by Varnorian of Codep, who looked bored by the whole proceeding. Landreau sat hunched slightly over his clasped hands, like a moody predator bird, as he reiterated the charges against Todd Reeve and Hrriss.

  Todd and Hrriss were not present for this introductory session. They were, naturally, represented by Hrruvula, with Sue Bailey tapping quiet fingers on her keys. With a Poldep officer on guard, the illicit artifacts were displayed, the Glow Stone in a heavy plastic case. Sampson DeVeer was also present, seated next to the recording secretary at the foot of the table.

  “The accused, Todd Reeve and Hrriss, both colonists of this planet, have been granted numerous unusual privileges,” Landreau began. “Among them, exclusive use of a scout-class spaceship and almost unlimited access to the Archives and other records.”

  “These ‘privileges’ were warranted by their extra-planetary duties which they have faultlessly executed to the benefit of their native planets and their adopted world,” Hrruvula replied. “They were elected unanimously to fulfill the position of travelling emissaries for Doona/Rrala.”

  “Yes, and see how they reward the trust put in them,” Landreau spat out. “Illegal invasion of space, piracy, smuggling!”

  “We are by no means convinced, Admiral Landreau,” Madam Dupuis said in a stern tone, “that the defendants are guilty of piracy and smuggling. They have both separately maintained that neither of them placed the artifacts on the Albatross, nor could the one have done so without the other’s knowledge.”

  “But their own log claims otherwise.” Landreau made his voice sound reasonable, even saddened by the clandestine activities of Todd and Hrriss. “I am not at all satisfied by the so-called confessions that your interview extracted from the, er, defendants.”

  “My clients would be happy, in fact delighted, to answer these allegations under oath,” Hrruvula replied.

  “How good is the word of such deceitful parties?”

  “Objection!” Hrruvula said, shooting to his feet.

  “Sustained,” Madam Dupuis said, shooting a repressive look at Landreau.

  The Admiral took a deep breath and, with a fixed smile, continued. “Oaths in a case such as this are not good enough,” Landreau said, and began enumerating his reasons. “They claim there was a robot beacon orbiting Hrrilnorr IV. Admiralty Records emphatically proves that no such beacon ever existed. On the off chance that a rogue beacon from some other system or passing vessel had entered the system and been drawn to Hrrilnorr IV, a scout was dispatched to search. No trace of any mechanical devices was found except the ones assigned to that system. But,” and now he waggled his finger, “an astonishing assortment of illegal objects and that Byzanian Glow Stone were unquestionably found secreted aboard the Albatross, and those two ... young men” —his tone made that designation an insult— “deny any knowledge of them.” He paused dramatically. “I insist on guaranteed veracity. They must submit to interrogation—by qualified technicians, of course—under querastrin.”

  An agitated murmur rumbled through the Council chamber, although Hrruvula, whom Landreau was watching, appeared unmoved by such a drastic course. Querastrin was by no means a new truth drug, but it was a harsh one. It stripped the person under its influence of both privacy and dignity. Suicides following querastrin interrogation were frequent: more often in the cases of those proved innocent under such a drug than those convicted of crimes they had denied.

  Hrruvula fixed his deceptively mild green gaze on Landreau and allowed the pupils to slowly contract. Landreau shuddered inwardly.

  “But why should it be needed in this instance, Admiral?” the counsel asked. “Querastrin seems rather an extreme measure. Both Terran and Hrruban courts permit suspects of all but the most bizarre crimes to retain their dignity and give evidence under oath. My clients, on the occasion of the inspection in Councillor Dupuis’s presence and separately during every interrogatory session, have explained the circumstances of their entry into the Hrrilnorr system. Their account has not varied in any particular during any repetition.”

  “But their ‘account’ does not tally with the physical evidence supporting their arrest. The future of an entire colony is at stake here, don’t you understand that?” Landreau asked plaintively, meeting every Councillor’s eyes in turn. “Does that not count against the well-being of two single citizens? As a Human, I am appalled that one of my kind invaded a sector which you Hrrubans claimed as your own territory. A deliberate and premeditated abrogation of a specific Treaty clause, and that is the least of their acts against the Treaty. Surely you must wish such unscrupulous persons removed from this society to prevent them tainting the minds of your young folk who have, I am told, become accustomed to following the lead of ... these two young men. Doona does not need such role models.” Landreau allowed his dismay to be clearly seen.

  The Treaty Controller nodded slowly as if agreeing with that assertion of opprobrium. Landreau’s eyes narrowed slightly and the hint of a smile pulled at his thin lips. The common good was a sensible tack to take in ramming home his points. A nice wedge, neatly driven in to make these idiots reexamine their values.

  Hrruvula dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Who are we to consider to have tainted whom, Commander?” he asked.

  “Cui bono, Councillor,” Landreau said. “Who profits from the crimes? In the testimony given to this august body, the suspects failed curiously to address several interesting items which I have uncovered. Then, too, I have recently come into possession of evidence, just brought to my attention, on another matter entirely. The government of Zapata Three felt obliged to submit this directly to me. This includes not only these financial records,” and Landreau extended a sheaf of flimsies for the court steward to present to the Councillors, “but a description of a male, one point nine meters tall, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, calling himself Rikard Baliff, the named depositor. This so-called Rikard Baliff has had a most lucrative and active account for the last ten years. The date of the first deposit, by chance, happens to be only two months after that scout, Albatross, was assigned to Todd Reeve and Hrriss, son of Hrrestan. The most recent deposit was made only three weeks ago.”

  “I fail to see the relevance of these documents,” Hrruvula remarked with a slight, exasperated sigh of boredom.

  “It’s obvious enough to me, to any thoughtful person,” Landreau replied, piqued. “Young Mr. Reeve has been building a stake himself, should the Doona Experiment fail. A new life, with a new name—financed, in part, we may now surmise on this new evidence—by the sale of horses bearing Reeve Ranch freeze marks as well as the rare artifacts found on the Albatross. I have depositions,” and he fluttered more sheets for the steward to hand over to the Councillors, “that this Rikard Baliff was always accompanied by a Hrruban. Plainly the two have been in collusion for a long time.”

  Madam Dupuis disguised her anger only by a great effort of will. Despite this new and most unsettling evidence, she could not imagine Todd Reeve as a conniving rustler and smuggler any more than she could see Hrriss being led around by the nose as an accomplice i
n such a nefarious undertaking. Why, Todd would have been barely twenty-one at the time he allegedly started this galaxy-wide enterprise. Furthermore, someone in those ten years would surely have recognized Todd and Hrriss at some point during their visits to Zapata and commented on it. Especially if Todd and Hrriss were at the same time representing the colony at an official function. She eased from one buttock to another, compelled by her oath as a Treaty Councillor to hear out this remarkable fabrication of Landreau’s and fretting the way evidence upon evidence was being piled up.

  When Landreau began to read from the documents, as if the Councillors were too infirm to do so for themselves, she interrupted him. “Have you any witnesses who can testify to the presence of Todd Reeve and Hrriss on Zapata to conduct these transactions?”

  “Only scan the frequency of deposits, Madam Dupuis, and you will see”—Landreau’s smile broadened—“that the dates match the times—on List B-2—when Reeve and his Hrruban partner were logged off Doona on official visits.”

  Madam Dupuis turned to her colleagues. “I would like to see their flight plans and log records for the past ten years.”

  “That is List B-3, Madam Dupuis,” Rogitel said helpfully.

  “It would seem that they have become deft at altering the Albatross log to delete unauthorized landings at Zapata, and on other worlds,” Landreau said.

  “If I may interject a word here,” Rogitel said, “since the assistant sealed the Albatross immediately upon its landing four weeks ago, they did not have time to alter the log on that journey. The need to do so would account for why they were so insistent on postponing the obligatory inspection of their craft until such time when they could return and delete the incriminating portions.”