The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Where?” Tor had emerged from the vehicle and trundled beside him.

  Kai pointed to the site of Gaber’s dome, bleakly remembering that they had had to leave Gaber’s body. It, too, had been returned to dust. In space, he had always wondered at that archaic burial phrase. It was appropriate here.

  “The core was there!”

  Tor slid down the slope, the unevenness of the surface posing no problem, but Kai noticed that the Thek left a steaming trail. He followed and the stone was still hot enough for the heat to penetrate Kai’s thick boot sole.

  “Here?” The sound grated out of Tor as the Thek stopped in the designated site.

  “This was the site of the geology dome, the main shelter was precisely here,” and Kai walked to the position. “The individual accommodations were across that part of the compound.”

  Then he stared at Tor because that was the longest plain speech he had ever made to a Thek and he wondered if the creature absorbed statements not couched in the shortspeech they preferred. He opened his mouth to structure the explanation properly when a rumble from Tor stopped him.

  Not for the first time, Kai wondered if the silicon life-form might have a hidden telepathic ability. Now that he thought of it, you always knew what a Thek wanted to find out despite its succinct speech. You could distinguish a command from a question that required a yes or no answer, yet there had only been the one or two cue words to elicit a response.

  Tor was on the move again, this time in an obvious search pattern. An extremity in the shape of a broad flange was poised just above the surface of the dusty compound floor. The Thek progressed ten meters in one direction, abruptly turned and examined the adjacent strip.

  Clearly any effort on Kai’s part would be redundant, so he strode down the slight slope to where the veil opening had been. Only the stub of the heavy-duty plastic column remained, and gouges proved it had been subjected to treatment its designer had never envisaged.

  Kai knew that the mutineers had moved the sleds from the original parking site. They would have had to do it manually since Bonnard had hidden the power packs. Kai stood, raking the surrounding area with calculating eyes. There was no telling now how wide a swathe the dead hadrasaurs had made. He was also certain that the mutineers had grossly underestimated the scope of the stampede. Still, the mass of animals would have had to funnel through the narrow rock gorge leading to the compound. The sleds would have been taken to a place reasonably secure, which suggested uphill but nearby. The sleds were weighty, even for the muscles of heavyworlders. And they’d been somewhat rushed, having hoped to fly the four craft out of the area.

  Kai struck off to his left where the heavily vegetated land slanted upward. He looked back toward the compound and saw Tor moving steadily on its search pattern. He wouldn’t be inconveniencing the Thek if he pressed his own search. He rather supposed that Tor would have a time locating the core no matter how efficiently it worked. There was always the possibility that the mutineers had retrieved the object.

  He devoutly hoped that they hadn’t also retrieved the sleds. Or spitefully damaged them beyond use. But Kai reasoned the sleds would have been too valuable for wanton destruction. The mutineers would have been positive that they’d catch up with the people they considered inferiors, whom they’d left without any survival equipment. Nor would Paskutti have been easily deterred from an exhaustive search for the missing power packs. Which might well explain the giffs’ behavior yesterday.

  Kai almost climbed past the sleds: they were so covered in vine that they looked like a natural rock formation. He tore at the vegetation, cursing as fine thorns ripped his hands. He used his knife then, and he broke a branch from a tree to pry and cut away the obscuring growths.

  If only one sled was intact . . . Units were sealed: even a heavy-worlder would have had to grunt to bash the sturdy plasteel frame and body skin.

  He was the one to grunt and sweat now, contending with Ireta’s heavy morning rain, which penetrated the leafy cover so that mud added to his problems: mud and the colonies of insects that had taken refuge in the shelter of vine and sled.

  He felt, rather than saw, that the instrument console was intact, and disregarding the myriad tiny life-forms wriggling from beneath his fingers, found that the sled floor was unbroached and the essential power connectors undamaged.

  With a sigh of relief, he leaned warily against a tree trunk only to be brought upright as a spurt of flame angling upward into the misty rain told him that Tor had taken off.

  Too stunned to react for a moment, Kai stared as the fog roiled and then covered completely the passage of the Thek vehicle. Half-blind with sweat and apprehension, Kai started to run back to the compound. Without that power pack . . .

  Varian had had one glimpse of Kai, body arched over Tor’s mass, clinging valiantly to the improvised handholds. She didn’t envy him the journey. Then the Thek vehicle slowly turned in the cramped space of the cave, proving Tor’s expertise as a pilot. Of course, Tor ought to be expert, considering it was intimate with its source of power and the vehicle no more than a surround. How convenient to be a Thek, she thought, impervious to all the minor ills that beset frail species like her own: long-lived, invulnerable to anything short of a nova. Someone had once told her that Thek created novas to tone up their inner cores. And there’d been that droll story she’d heard in advanced training, that the various planets claimed by the Thek as “homes” were dead worlds covered with immense pyramidal mountains, in conical ranges. Elder Thek never died, they became mountains, too vast to move or be moved. And the asteroid belts common to most Thek systems were actually fragmented Thek who had not withstood the final journey to their chosen resting place.

  She peered out between the vines to follow their flight and saw the reaction of the giffs. Those in midair seemed to pause, while those who stood preening themselves on the cliffs erupted into sound, bugling and whistling in tones that seemed to Varian both joyous and startled. Although there was no way a golden flier could keep up with a Thek-powered craft, those in the air made a valiant effort and were followed by what must have been the entire adult population of the colony.

  Varian gasped as a shaft of sunlight penetrated the morning mist and rain. The golden fur of the airborne giffs seemed a sheet of brilliant yellow suspended between cloudy sky and misted earth.

  Only then did it occur to Varian that the shape of the Thek’s vehicle with its transparent canopy was vaguely birdlike, with swept-back wings. A further moment’s thought, and she glanced at the basically ovoid shape of the shuttle and came to an inescapable conclusion. The giffs had been protecting the cave! They had granted sanctuary to what they thought was an incubating egg.

  Varian burst out laughing. The poor giffs! How long had the “egg” been incubating? However long, it must have confused the giffs. And yet . . . her respect for the creatures grew. Not only were they food-catchers, grass-weavers and protectors of their young, they could extend those skills to include another species. Very interesting! This would be one for the tapes when she got back to the ARCT-10. Or if.

  Varian entered the shuttle, opening the iris just wide enough for her to squeeze through. The one interior light made for an eerie atmosphere. Varian was only too glad to revive Lunzie and Triv. She didn’t fancy a prolonged lonely stay in the shuttle or crouched in the cave. She needed occupation. And reading revival instructions was first on her list.

  She gave Lunzie and Triv their initial shots and sat down to wait. She couldn’t give the next dose until their body temperatures had risen closer to normal. She worried about Lunzie. Was there a limit to the number of times one body could undergo cold sleep? Or did it depend on the length of time asleep?

  She shook her head and turned her mind to more productive channels. If Tor had actually bestirred itself to investigate their situation, even if only for the sake of that ancient core, they could eventually expect adequate assistance. Nor had they been planted. Had they been, Tor would not have int
ervened no matter how eager the Theks were to acquire the core. She hoped that the object gave the Theks a hard time: ARCT-10’s computer records, which supposedly included much of the stored knowledge of the incredibly ancient Thek communities, had indicated no previous exploration of Ireta. Yet once Portegin had assembled and activated the seismic screen to read the soil and rock analyses of the new cores laid by the three geological teams, faint signals had shown up along the entire continental shelf: signals indicating the presence of cores on a planet reportedly never before explored. Kai and Gaber had unearthed one. Though its signal was weak, it hadn’t differed from the new cores the geologists were planting. It had felt old to Varian. And it was obviously of Thek manufacture. The presence of an ancient network on the continental shelf did explain the absence of mineral deposits; obviously the planet had already been worked. Once the geologists ventured beyond the shelf to the tectonically unstable areas, the cores did what they were designed to do: register massive deposits that the shifting plates of the heaving planet had thrown up from its very active thermal core.

  At least, Varian consoled herself, Ireta was interesting to the Theks even if the situation of the humans involved did not appear to concern them. Still, if the stranded victims of the mutiny could find and power up the sleds, they could improve their condition until adequate assistance did arrive.

  Varian checked Lunzie and Triv. Nothing seemed to be wrong, and their respirations were speeding up. Abruptly she decided that she’d better get out of the shuttle for a few moments: she was not constituted to sit still and do nothing.

  She wandered out to the cave entrance. Hanging onto a vine, she let her body fall beyond the overhang. Giffs were swirling about. She wondered how far they had pursued the swift Thek. They seemed to be talking the event over for the crested heads turned from one flying mate to another.

  How beautiful the golden fliers were! Their bodies touched occasionally, forming brilliant lances of yellow as Ireta’s sun made its morning inspection. She was all admiration for their economy of movement as they backwinged to settle on the cliff. They were not graceful as they waddled to form a loose semicircle. She hung out on the vine, fascinated by what had to be a council of the great giffs. Others emerged from caves to join the nucleus until the top of the palisade was alive with motion, with high-held triangles of giff wings, claw-fingers wriggling in agitation. The noise had become a gabbling bugling sound, curiously harmonious, rather than dissonant. What were they saying to each other?

  Varian was so entranced by the spectacle that she didn’t realize how precarious her hold was on the vine until she had almost slipped beyond the reach of the ledge. She got safely back, rubbing hands stiffened by clutching the cumbersome thick vine, torn between a desire to get closer and the wisdom of remaining unseen.

  She settled by making herself comfortable at the far left side of the cave mouth, where she had a good view of the sky and cliffs and could still hear the chorus even if she couldn’t see the conclave.

  She looked out apprehensively when the bugling ceased and saw a contingent of giffs, nets dangling from their clawed feet, speed off for the morning’s fishing.

  She was utterly astounded then, when three giffs broached the vine curtain and, neatly disentangling their wings from the trailing greenery, came to a stop in front of the space shuttle. Their attention was on the shuttle, so they didn’t see her.

  Krims! she thought to herself. Then Varian was torn between amusement and sympathy for the obvious consternation of the three giffs. Had they expected to find the space shuttle broken open? A birdlike object had certainly left the cave. But there it was, unblemished and certainly intact.

  Then Varian noticed that the middle giff was taller, its wings a fraction larger, than its two fellows. The smaller ones turned to Middle Giff, their whole attitude querying. They emitted soft chirps and a sound more like a feline purr than a bird noise. Middle Giff aimed its beak tentatively at the shuttle and tapped it lightly. Varian could have sworn it sighed. It resumed its meditative pose while the other crested heads turned respectfully to it.

  Varian was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to stroll nonchalantly up to them and say, “Well, fellows, it’s like this . . .”

  Instead she savored the perplexed tableau and wished that there were some way in which she could explain to her puzzled hosts and protectors. They were noble creatures, elements of dignity were visible even in that moment of acute perplexity. Would they—could they—evolve further? Somehow she couldn’t imagine the Ryxi in a protective role toward another species of avian life. Fortunately, there was no way in which the Ryxi could jeopardize the giffs’ evolution! She smiled to herself, watching the giffs as they continued to debate the puzzle. Middle Giff turned from one sidekick to the other, gurgling softly under their more audible commentaries. Vrl would be furious, Varian thought. Another flying life-form capable of reasoning. Thank Krim that the Ryxi had refused to credit even the little Kai had reported of avian life on Ireta. Ryxi could hold lifelong grudges which, in this instance, suited Varian perfectly.

  The examining committee waddled to the edge of the cave ledge and dropped off, spreading their wings to catch an updraft. She watched them from behind her screen as they circled and landed among those left on the council rocks. More harmonious noise. Could the musicality of a species’ utterances be an indication of their basic temperament? An interesting notion—harmony equated with rational thought? Discord with basic survival reactions?

  She glanced at the sky, squinting as she found the sun. Kai and Tor had been gone a while. At the rate of speed Tor had left the cliffs, the trip back to the old compound would have required a fraction of the time needed to make the journey by sled.

  Time! She scurried back to the shuttle and hastily checked her patients. She ought not to have been gone so long, yet she’d no way of measuring time. Lunzie felt warmer and her respiratory rate was quicker. Triv was all right, too. She couldn’t risk leaving them again. She settled down, drawing the thin thermal sheet about her.

  Even if Kai found a sled in working order, it would take him some hours to return. To pass time, she carefully peeled and ate another of the fruits, chewing slowly to get the most of its taste and to draw out the task of eating. Mentally she rehearsed phrases of a report she’d make to the Xenobiological Survey on the cooperative tendencies of the golden fliers.

  A long sigh nearly lifted Varian from the hard shuttle plasfloor. Lunzie! Yes, the medic’s head had turned and her right hand jumped, her feet twitched. It was time for the restorative. As she prepared Lunzie’s, she looked over at Triv. His head had fallen to one side, his lips parted and a groan issued from deep inside the man.

  “Lunzie, it’s Varian. Can you hear me?”

  Lunzie blinked, trying to focus her eyes. Varian remembered her own attempts and resisted the impulse to smile. Lunzie wouldn’t appreciate humor at the expense of her personal dignity.

  “Hnnnnn?”

  “It’s Varian, Lunzie. You’ve been in cold sleep. I’m reviving you and Triv.”

  “Ohhhhh.”

  Varian gave her the second of the two required shots and then turned to give Triv his shot. She could appreciate their sensations as long-unused nerves and limbs began to respond to mental dictates. Once the second shots had taken effect, Lunzie and Triv were soon sitting up.

  “I only hope you took it easy at first,” Lunzie commented to Varian in her usual way.

  “Oh yes,” Varian assured her blithely, aware that “easy” in Lunzie’s lexicon probably differed from her own interpretation. “I feel great.”

  “So what happened?”

  “That Thek, Tor—the one Kai knows—came.”

  Lunzie’s eyebrows arched in mild surprise. “Not to our rescue, certainly—it wanted the old core!”

  Varian grinned at the medic, pleased that someone else shared her cynicism about Thek. “Right! The one Gaber and Kai disinterred.”

  “What would it want that for
?” Triv asked, his words slurred in his first attempt at speech.

  Varian shrugged. “A Thekian reason. But Kai went off with Tor to find it. I hope that wretched thing’s buried nineteen meters down. No, I don’t,” she contradicted herself quickly, “for that would mean we’ve been asleep far too long. At any rate, Kai took along a power pack to unearth a sled for us.”

  “If the heavy-worlders didn’t wreck ’em ,” Lunzie said sourly.

  “They wouldn’t do that,” Triv said. “They’d be too sure that they’d locate us and the power packs.”

  “A sled would be a powerful encouragement.” Lunzie looked down at the darker mounds of sleepers. Then she began to manipulate her arms and legs in a Discipline limbering exercise.

  “Do I smell fruit?” Triv asked, running his tongue over his lips.

  Varian instantly set to peel fruit for Lunzie and Triv. While they ate slowly and appreciatively, Varian related the adventures she and Kai had had, and their conclusion that the heavy-worlders had penetrated to the giffs’ territory. With great relish she recounted the visitation of the Elder giffs after Tor had left the cave. Triv was amused, but Lunzie interpreted Varian’s report differently, though she offered no comment.

  “Can we use the main cave safely?” she asked Varian as she rose stiffly to her feet. “Or are those fliers of yours apt to recon frequently? No matter, I’d rather be out in Ireta’s stink than sit in this morgue.” She gathered up the thermal sheet and stalked to the entrance.

  Triv and Varian followed. Once outside, Lunzie regarded the vines for a long moment, her expression betraying nothing of her thoughts. Suddenly she began to sniff, at first tentatively, and then with deeper breaths. “What . . . the . . .”

  Varian grinned at her consternation. “Yes, I’d noticed, too. We’ve got accustomed to Ireta.”

  “Don’t those vines give you any idea how long we’ve slept?” Lunzie demanded.

  “I wish my botanical expertise was not limited to edibility and toxicity,” Varian said, not wishing to add that the expedition’s botanist had mutinied. “Tropical growth has a vitality unlike others. Why don’t you limber up more? You could shower with the next rain . . .”