The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Of course, I did. I’ve no orders to dissemble, though by the gods, this situation becomes more complex with every hour. A displaced expeditionary force, a mutiny charge, a missing EV, a population of off-worlders, an indigenous sentient species and Thek popping up in unexpected strength. Fifty of the blighted things by latest count. Yes?” she said, turning to acknowledge the discreet reappearance of her yeoman.

  “Leader Varian’s sled has been repaired and is available to her.”

  “Yes, I expect you’re anxious to return to your group. I shall want a comprehensive report from every member of the survivors—especially your youngest members. I shall want them tomorrow. And you’d best update your mission’s accounts. Are the supplies aboard Varian’s sled?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “You’ve been very generous, Commander.”

  “You don’t even know what the supplies are, Varian,” and Sassinak’s right eyebrow quirked with amusement. “Records, for one thing, tamperproof. And your medic sent in some urgent requests. The Ryxi vessel doesn’t have all she requires. Not surprising. As planetary governor pro-tem,” and Sassinak mocked Varian gently, “you have only to requisition whatever you require from Fordeliton, my executive officer. Your medic’s name is Lunzie, isn’t it?” Sassinak leaned toward Varian again, in a confidential attitude, her eyes sparkling with humor. When Varian nodded, she grinned. “It was inevitable that one of us encountered her. A celebration is in order. Will you convey my deepest respects to Lunzie? And my invitation to a proper dinner at the first opportunity? I expect that the Zaid-Dayan will be here a while—at least until the tribunal arrives—but one never knows in the service. I cannot miss the chance to meet Lunzie. It isn’t often one gets the chance to entertain one’s great-great-great-grandmother. Del, do escort Leader Varian to her sled?”

  Slightly dazed by Sassinak’s totally unexpected parting remark, Varian was halfway to the air lock before she recalled Portegin. Del was quite willing to detour by way of the sick bay.

  “We don’t get a skull fracture report from the diagnostic scan, Leader Varian,” Mayerd, the chief medical officer explained, “but he’s clearly disoriented.”

  “You mean he has trouble believing this is the ZD-43?” asked Varian, appreciating Portegin’s confusion.

  “How did you know?”

  Then they were in the infirmary, Portegin its only occupant.

  “Krims! but I’m glad to see you, Lieutenant,” he said, urgently beckoning her to approach his bunk. In an anxious whisper he added, “There’s something peculiar going on here, Lieutenant. I don’t recognize anyone. How could they switch crews midtour, unless the heavies—”

  “Report, Portegin,” Varian said, mimicking Lunzie’s clipped accents.

  “Huh? Oh, Krims!” Portegin fell back against the bolster, tension easing from his face and body as blocked memories flowed back. “I thought something was wrong with me!”

  Varian squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. “Me, too.”

  “Hey, then everything is all right?” Portegin caught her arm with urgent fingers. “I mean, that heavy-world transport zapped us, and I wake up on a cruiser. Was that rescue mission from the ARCT-10? How’re the others? How come we thought we were from this cruiser?”

  Varian gave him what answers she had and then called Mayerd over, indicating Portegin’s improvement and asking to have him released. Mayerd reluctantly agreed, extracting from Varian a promise that Portegin would undertake no strenuous activities for a day or two.

  “Nothing more strenuous than juggling matrices and wielding a soldering iron,” Portegin assured her, slipping into the new ship suit he was given.

  Once aboard their crumple-nosed sled, Varian filled Portegin in on some of the details while he elatedly sorted through the supplies, exclaiming over the variety of matrices, tool replacements, and packed food-stuffs.

  “Hey, we got us a bottle of Sverulan brandy—Ah, fardles! It’s got Lunzie’s name on it. Compliments of Commander Sassinak? A friend of hers?”

  “You might say so,” Varian replied, discretion overcoming her wish to confound. It occurred to her that Lunzie might not wish to claim a relationship so far removed in time.

  “Fardles! That stuff goes down a treat. Real smooth.” Portegin carefully replaced the brandy and resumed his seat beside Varian. “Hey, we got our escort back. How did they know it’s us with so many other aircraft zipping around?”

  “I’ll remember to inquire. Lunzie says they can tell the difference between one of our sleds and those of the Mazer Star.”

  “No? Well, every motor has a distinctive sound to it, I’m told, even if they were manufactured in the same place, of identical components, but the signature usually only shows up on sophisticated monitors.”

  “Brains are still the ultimate in sophisticated computers. We got some on wings, that’s all. Say, did you happen to notice if they tracked us up from the base camp?”

  “It was dark when we left there, Varian, and we were kinda occupied . . . besides using different brains. I don’t know what they think they’re doing for us out there, but I kinda like seeing ’em .”

  “So do I. And I’ll be seeing a lot more of them in the next few days if I have my way.”

  Circumstances combined to thwart Varian’s plans. Just as they reached the cliffs of the golden fliers, a squall broke over them and Varian had all she could do to wrestle the sled safely inside the cave. That put the skids on an immediate study of the giffs. Considerable progress had already been made to improve the amenities in the cave, including partitioned sleeping quarters at the back, tables, comfortable loungers and lighting near the hearth which had been augmented by cooking, cooling, and disposal units. Bug-screens kept the insects at bay. Mindful of Sassinak’s requirement, Varian forced a cassette on Portegin before he disappeared into the shuttle’s pilot compartment to restore the console. When she asked Lunzie the whereabouts of the rest of the team, she received another check. As soon as Kai had finished his session with the diagnostic unit on board Captain Godheir’s Mazer Star, he had drafted the assistance of a crewmember who professed to be an amateur geologist and went off to seek Dimenon, Margit, and Tor.

  “In that order,” Lunzie said. “If the Thek let them land, considering their fascination with Iretan mineral deposits. Dimenon says they’re just squatting and gorging themselves. He swore six ways to Sunday that he can see the Thek growing.”

  “Then the diagnostic unit has a cure for Kai?”

  “No, but it’s much healthier for him to immerse himself in matters geological than sit about fretting and making mud maps,” Lunzie replied crisply. “He’s in a padded suit with skin-gloves. I’ve threatened Perens, that’s Godheir’s navigator, with grievous bodily harm if there’s so much as one new welt on Kai’s hide when they return. You ought to be glad that Kai’s got a second wind.”

  “I am. I am. Where’re Triv and Trizein?” She could snag the geologists later for their reports.

  “They’re off, too, in the four-man sled. Triv did promise Trizein to go beast-hunting with him, you know. Now that he’s ‘fifty-eight,’ Bonnard insists he’s old enough to be a full team member so he went off with them. Terilla wanted to be their scribe, so I let her go, too. Don’t wish to stretch Godheir’s hospitality with fretful kids.”

  “Cleiti?”

  “She’s in the Mazer Star, helping Obir construct bunkbeds for our sleeping quarters.” Lunzie waved to the back of the cave. “Godheir is determined to arrange for as many comforts of home as possible. Everyone’s the better for doing some light work to get muscles working again.”

  “Aulia?”

  Lunzie’s expression altered. “She . . .” and Lunzie wiggled one hand in a derisive gesture, “is recuperating from the shock of discovering herself time-stranded. I did point out that, when we got back to the ARCT-10, she’d look four decades younger than her contemporaries.”

  “Did that cheer her?”

  “Not as much as Triv
’s reminder that all her bonus money has been collecting interest for forty-three years. She was demanding a transfer to the sanctuary of the cruiser until I mentioned that they were guarding the heavy-world transport. Sure cured that notion. Now, I expect you’ll want to be off stalking your bird friends. I’m going to catalog the local edibles and Divisti’s pharmacopia in case they’ve other useful medical applications.” Lunzie triumphantly hoisted the microscope loaned by the cruiser’s science officer.

  “Not until you’ve reported your version of our mutiny,” and Varian stayed Lunzie’s departure until she had tucked a disk in her chest pocket. “By the way,” and Varian considered it only fair that she had a revelation to spring on Lunzie, “Commander Sassinak says she’s your great-great-great-granddaughter.”

  As a series of emotions crossed the medic’s usually well-schooled face, Varian wished she had a recorder handy. Shock, surprise, denial, consternation, and finally resignation marched across the woman’s face. Then Lunzie blinked and displayed her usual composure.

  “She could be, I suppose. My family tends to the services, and wandering.”

  “Did you know she was commander of the ZD-43?”

  “No. How could I? She couldn’t’ve been when we went to sleep forty-three years ago. The cruiser was only just commissioned. I’d seen the announcement on the ARCT-10 which is why the designation fell so easily from my tongue when needed.”

  “She’s invited us to dinner at the earliest opportunity.”

  “What sort of person is she?”

  “Well . . .” and Varian maliciously delayed her assessment, “I think there’s a distinct family resemblance . . . in manner.”

  Lunzie gave Varian a long shrewd look. “As Fleet commanders generally spread a good meal, and I’m getting bored with stews and simple Iretan fare, I accept.”

  “She sent this with her compliments.” Varian handed over the square Sverulan brandy bottle.

  “A discerning relative. I expect good things at her table.”

  “Lunzie!” Varian pointed at the tape in the medic’s pocket.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll do that first. We’ll broach the bottle tonight!” Then Lunzie, juggling microscope, bottle, and a tray of other supplies, made her way to the compartment that had been, two weeks ago, Trizein’s laboratory.

  Just as Varian dutifully sat down to dictate her own report, a sled entered the cave. A short, chesty man with a round face wreathed in an expression of constant, surprised good humor, waved cheerily to her.

  It was Captain Godheir, arriving to present his apologies in person.

  “I could have dropped down here any time the last fifteen years if I’d had any idea of your situation. When we got that Thek summons, I checked the computer banks, right then. Your last contact with Vrl was logged all right enough, but the Ryxi didn’t attempt to raise your camp for another five months. The entry indicated no response, so it was assumed you’d been recovered by the ARCT-10.”

  “Have you heard anything about the EV?”

  “No, but that’s nothing,” Godheir assured her with a smile. “EVs don’t have much cause to tell mercenary captains like me this, that, or twaddle. But,” and he waggled a finger at her, his expression sincere, “that might be all to the good. I sure would have heard if an EV got itself lost. Mullah! They’re still bitching about the LSTC-8 that tangled with that gas cloud last century. No news is good news, you know. And that cruiser’ll get an update. Meanwhile, anything me and my crew can do . . . including a spot of bird-watching. Did their net act this morning—now that’s a sight to see!”

  “You didn’t happen to record it, did you?”

  “I sure did record it! Furthermore,” and Godheir grinned broadly, “we got their attack on us, Lunzie’s arrival, and all that to-do on a high-resolution tape. One of my crew’s an amateur naturalist. You should see his tapes of the Ryxi—”

  “Captain Godheir, your contract doesn’t oblige you to disclose all activities to the Ryxi, does it?”

  Godheir gave her the broadest possible wink. “We don’t exactly converse with ’em at all, which you will understand if you know the Ryxi—which I suspect you do or you wouldn’t worry about ’em —so don’t worry about me or any of my crew babbling. Those Ryxi pay well, or you may be sure we wouldn’t keep renewing the contract.” He leaned across the table and patted Varian’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, you need anything me or my men can cobble up for you to get settled in? I got a few more items Lunzie requested. That nice little girl Cleiti’s been helping us. Too bad she’s so long separated from her folks.”

  “Cleiti’s here?” Varian reached for another cassette.

  “She’s out in the cave, setting up the bunks.”

  Varian went out, followed by Godheir who assured her that Cleiti was only supervising as Obir was under strict orders to prevent her doing anything strenuous. And, to be sure, Cleiti was perched on a stool of recent manufacture, listening to the comments of the garrulous jack of all trades. She rose when Varian appeared, with a brave, sad, little smile more poignant than tears would have been. Varian repressed a self-indulgent urge to hug Cleiti. Instead she explained the necessity for the report.

  “I can do it while Obir’s busy,” Cleiti said, holding the cassette with curious awkwardness. “I’ll have no trouble remembering everything exactly as it happened. After all, for me, it was only the week before last.”

  Varian managed to murmur something appropriate, catching Godheir’s amused wink, as she turned away. Rain still lashed down and the screen of vine waved with erratic vitality in the squally winds. The vine should be cut down now, she thought. The screen’s purpose had been accomplished. She wished hers could be, and Ireta’s weather was frustrating. So . . . she’d work on that blasted report until the rain abated.

  “You’ve probably got a lot to do, lassie,” Godheir said, hearing her sigh of exasperation. He took a bulbous object from his thigh pocket and a small pouch from another. “I’ll just blow a cloud of my own.” Varian recognized the artifact as a tobacco pipe. “Not that I could smell anything in this atmosphere. Nor will I be polluting it!” He chuckled as he settled himself on another stool. “Half the pleasure of smoking a pipe is the smell of the tobacco.”

  “What’s the other half?”

  “The pure relaxation of fussing with a pipe.”

  Varian watched the process for a moment. “It looks complicated.” Then she thanked him once again for all his courtesies. “Would you give me a shout when the rain stops, Captain.”

  “My pleasure!”

  It could have been imagination, but Varian did think, as she returned to the shuttle, that she could smell the aroma which rose from the captain’s pipe.

  As Varian organized her recollections of the events leading up to the mutiny, she envied Cleiti her innocence of the “week before last.” Varian made copious notes, additions, and changes until she was sure she had events in order. She made no comments, such as her initial suspicions about the heavy-worlders’ unsavory activities of that fateful rest day, for the mutiny was an undeniable fact, emphatically substantiated by the time gap between the two groups. She listened carefully to the replay of her report, aware that she could not erase now. She added a few brief explanations to her remarks. Then she strode to the shuttle iris and looked out toward the cave entrance.

  Cleiti, Godheir, and Obir were seated in a companionable group about the fire, the captain’s pipe still sending gray-blue plumes of smoke to waft about in vagrant puffs of wine. No question of it, Varian thought. She could smell the tobacco above the usual pungencies. When she saw Varian, Cleiti brought over her cassette.

  “Captain Godheir seems to know all about the mutiny, Varian,” she said in a low voice, her eyes round with surprise. “Is it all right to talk about what happened? Or are details classified?”

  “You can talk about it all you want, Cleiti,” Varian replied, hoping discussion might restore the unnaturally subdued child to her former ebullience. Damn Pasku
tti and Tardma for the shock they had given the child: a shock undiminished in Cleiti’s memories of the “week before last.”

  “Captain Godheir said he’s never talked with a person who’d been mutinied before.”

  “It’s not something that happens frequently, Cleiti. He’s had our official report, but I think he might be interested in your reactions. But don’t talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  Cleiti considered pensively. Then, with a slightly less strained smile, added, “Yes, I think I’d like to tell the captain and Obir. They both listen so politely. They say,” and the smile betrayed a touch of Cleiti’s old impishness, “that it’s because I’m older than they are.” She rejoined the men at the fire.

  Varian was still muttering imprecations against the heavyworlders when Lunzie appeared with her record cassette.

  “Isn’t Cleiti abnormally quiet, Lunzie?”

  “All elements considered, not too much so. Part of it’s due to the restoration, and part to delayed reaction. That’s why I want to keep everyone as busy as possible. Gives ’em less time to worry and think.”

  “Aulia?”

  Lunzie snorted with derision. “Oh, she’s busy, too. Feeling sorry for herself. She can make that into a full-time occupation. I expect Portegin will change her mind—if he ever surfaces from the shuttle’s control panel. Varian, do you think you could get a specimen of the fringes from the giffs’ eating rock?”

  “D’you mean, would I oblige you or would I be able to? Because the giffs like me and someone else tried and failed?”

  Lunzie twitched her nose.

  “Well, he might have succeeded if he’d waited until the catch had been distributed. But they do know you. An analysis of fringe toxins would be invaluable in healing Kai’s condition.”

  “I’ll have to wait until this squall blows over.”

  “I was thinking that the squall would keep the giffs in their caves and this would be the safest time to collect fringe. Take the stairs to the surface.”

  “Stairs?” Varian stared in surprise.

  “I told you Godheir was making us very comfortable.” Lunzie pointed to the right side of the cave. “It’s only a cage pole with foot rests, but you can’t get blown out of it and it gets you right to the top. Rather an improvement on swinging down vines, isn’t it?” she added as she followed Varian to the new access way. “Godheir’s drive mechanic, a man named Kenley, does amateur photography and bird-watching. He’s also got a long-handled gripper, protective gloves, and a container for fringe samples. Topside!” Lunzie gestured with her thumb and grinned at Varian. “You are our resident expert on giffology.”