The Mystery of Ireta

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Never give a sucker an even break, huh?”

  “Never. You need to be kept busy, too. And active.”

  “I’m just fine when I’m allowed to do what I came here for.” Varian gave Lunzie a grin and then nimbly climbed the ladder, grateful for the cage as the wind still had some strength in it.

  Kenley was waiting for her on the cliff top, lounging against his sled. He was parked not too far from the spot where Varian had first rested her sled that long-ago rest day. Kenley’s forcescreen blocked most of the light rain and all the reemerging insects. He was slender, dark-skinned, dark-haired, and brown-eyed, with even, undistinguished features and a placid disposition. She shortly discovered in him a staunch advocate of the golden fliers.

  “Were you the bold one who tried for the fringes the first time?” she asked, as she took the sample-collecting tools from him.

  “Yep. Forgot the first rule of animal psychology. Never bother one that’s eating. Fortunately I had my lift-belt and I pelted for the cave mighty fast. They were most annoyed with me.”

  Varian grinned as she noted that he had his belt on; his recording equipment was slung from a second belt. They had reached a spot just below the feeding rocks.

  “You don’t have to follow me, but I’d appreciate it if you could record any giffs who drop by to investigate.”

  Kenley nodded as Varian arrayed the implements so as not to impede her climbing.

  “I’m going to ascend as far to the right of the feeding rock as I can, away from any edible food. The fringes get flipped to the far edge or into the chasm.”

  Both Varian and Kenley looked toward the giff cave, visible now that the rain had let up. There wasn’t a giff in sight. Varian began to climb quickly, Kenley just behind her.

  “Krims! Here they come!” Kenley warned her, and she heard the whirr of his recorder. “They got some perception. What do they use? Sonar? Radar? What?”

  “I hope to find out. You’re getting all that?” Varian said, keeping her eyes on the giffs winging through the drizzle.

  They landed on the sea edge of the feeding rock just as Varian reached the top. Several fringe carcasses, dried to brittle outlines, were inches from her boot. A meter away, two more feebly wavered. One was closed over, the other open.

  “Hello!” Varian said in her most cheerful tone, holding her hands out to the giffs as she edged closer to her target. “I ought to have brought you some Rift grasses, but we haven’t been there lately and I didn’t think about it until just this moment. Actually, since what I want is something you have no use for, I don’t want to get you into the bad habit of expecting presents everytime we meet. Is it all right if I just take one of these?” She had donned the gloves and opened the container as she spoke. Very slowly then, without taking her eyes from the giffs, she extended the long-handled grippers toward one of the semimoribund fringes.

  “Watch out!” Kenley’s cry seemed to lend her impetus.

  With considerable dexterity, she had managed to secure both fringes in the clasp of the gripper, whirling to hide her actions from the giffs as she beat a hasty retreat before their charge. “Did you get one? Krims! What are they doing now? Say, I don’t think they were after you . . .”

  Safe on the rocks below the feeding area, Varian paused long enough to thrust the fringes into the container while holding her breath against the stench of the things, before she looked to see what was exciting Kenley so much. Methodically the giffs were flicking every evidence of the fringes off into the chasm, as if deliberately clearing away a menace which they were not going to permit their visitors to handle.

  “I got two!”

  “I got it all down,” cried Kenley. “They are quick! In the air or on the ground. Though I think you’d have to say they were semiairborne when they came after you. You know, I think they were trying to keep me away from the fringes this morning—not away from the edible food.”

  Just then Varian and Kenley flinched away from the rock wall for the two giffs loomed above them, stern and chittering nonharmoniously. They spread their wings, flapping them as if to emphasize their remarks, then extended their heads down toward the two humans. The distance was too great for contact but Varian and Kenley ducked.

  “Like kids to avoid a well-deserved slap,” Kenley said, grinning at Varian.

  “Then let’s pretend we’re suitably punished and get the hell out of here.”

  Once back in their cave, the sample container turned over to Lunzie, Kenley regaled Varian with the spectacular record he had made of the giff attack on the Mazer Star’s sled and the astonishing withdrawal as Lunzie’s sled made its appearance and was escorted safely past the intruder. Unfortunately his footage of the feeding was marred by drizzle and haze. He hadn’t thought to change tape or use an appropriate filter.

  “I’ll redo that record. Maybe with you, I can get in closer.”

  “Better yet, we’ll both follow the fishers tomorrow on their daily round. That’s a sight to take. Fardles!” Varian snapped her fingers as she recalled that Sassinak awaited the reports. “Well, with any luck, I’ll give the commander what she needs and be back in time to take you fishing. I want to show their high level of basic intelligence in that sort of a joint enterprise.” She was recounting to the entranced Kenley the incident with the Three Giffs and her surmises when Kai returned with Dimenon and Margit.

  Kai had not been able to locate Tor, nor indeed engage any of the Thek—large, small, or medium—in conversation.

  “The silence of the Thek is profound,” Kai remarked. He seemed more like his old self. “Maybe in a year or two, one will remember to forward my message.”

  “Kai would go up to a Thek, rap on the shell and say in a loud clear voice, ‘Speak?’ ” Dimenon was also in good spirits. He dangled both hands at chest level and then uttered a series of short barks, grinning with no apology for his whimsical behavior, “ ‘Require Tor response.’ ”

  The geologists had little time for further conversation because Triv returned with Trizein, Bonnard, and Terilla. Trizein was so ecstatic about each and every new species that their expedition had sighted that he would break off describing one to cite the more fascinating specimen they had next encountered. Bonnard pretended to be weighted down by the film clips. Terilla waved a sheaf of drawings while Triv made for the hearth and some food. Varian waited until the first exuberances had been expended before she explained the need for Sassinak’s reports.

  “But they’re all dead, aren’t they?” Terilla’s expression mirrored her sudden fright and her voice held an unsteady quaver. Bonnard stepped to her side and put an arm about her.

  “Tanegli’s alive but he’s very old and senile,” Varian told Terilla with a reassuring smile.

  “I wouldn’t have thought the mutiny was the major issue now,” Triv said, surprised at the disclaimers. “Well, how can it be? With a colony ship illegally landing—”

  “Mutiny is always an issue,” Kai said angrily.

  “Planetary piracy is more serious.”

  “That’s because there’s been more of that than mutiny,” Portegin said, half-joking.

  “Far too much,” Lunzie said, not at all amused. “Generally the Federation doesn’t know of a takeover unless dissidents among the pirates inform. Then it’s too late.”

  “When is ‘too late’ too late to punish criminal activity?” Kai demanded, obviously referring to the mutiny, not the piracy.

  “The tribunal will decide that, Kai,” Lunzie said more kindly. “The ramifications are far too complex for my understanding of the laws. But, Kai, wouldn’t you say that senility and the knowledge of the futile outcome of forty-three years’ hard work constitute a punishment?” When she saw the obstinate set of Kai’s features, she shrugged. “What about consoling yourself with the knowledge that you’ve been instrumental in preventing the illegal occupation?”

  “Say, are there Federation rewards for hindering pirates?” Triv asked.

  Despite a spate of che
ering at this suggestion, no one had an answer.

  “What sort of reward could buy back the time we’ve lost,” Kai asked stiffly, “or the health?”

  10

  AFTER a dinner made lavish by the generosity of Commander Sassinak, Varian received a message from the cruiser, couched in the politest terms but nevertheless a firm request that Kai and Varian attend an important meeting on the cruiser at 0900. Kai was already asleep.

  “Sleep he needs,” Lunzie said quietly. “He expended a good deal of energy today which he didn’t have, trying to find his Thek.” She beckoned Varian down the corridor to her quarters, away from the partitioned section where Kai lay sleeping. “C’mon. Let’s broach that brandy my discerning relative sent. This day has been a whozzer! Brandy’d go down a treat.”

  Varian was quite willing to indulge and followed Lunzie to her compartment, which was now quite comfortable. The microscope held the place of honor on the wide working desk, where neat piles of notes and slides testified to the good use Lunzie had made of her afternoon. A cot, more shelves, a recorder, a viewer, and two comfortable chairs completed the furnishings.

  The brandy uncorked with a satisfactory schewack, and Lunzie muttered admiringly under her breath as the amber liquid gurgled into the glasses. She passed one to Varian, inhaling the bouquet from hers and then, with a rare smile on her face, settled into the other chair. She lifted her beaker to clink against Varian’s.

  “Here’s to the gods that grew!”

  “And here’s to the soil that fed.”

  The brandy went down smoothly until it hit the bottom of her throat. Then Varian found herself gulping cooler air, her eyes about to pop her skull. Tears formed and then dispersed as the fine aftertaste began to spread throughout her mouth and throat. Varian swore she could feel the nerves at the base of her spine untwist.

  “That’s some skull-pop!” Her voice was a respectful whisper.

  “Indeed!” Lunzie seemed not to feel the same effect, sipping again while Varian regarded her portion with considerable respect. The warmth and relaxation continued to diffuse. Varian took another small mouthful, expecting the fiery result. Somehow the brandy was mellower. Or her throat was numb. “Sverulan as a planet,” Lunzie went on, “has very little to recommend it other than the raw vegetable material that ferments into this brandy.” She gestured toward her notes on the table. “I’m hoping that Divisti found something equally good. I can’t imagine that the heavy-worlders could have existed long on this place without some sort of a stimulant.” She lifted her glass again.

  “Lunzie?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Do you know something you haven’t told us?”

  Lunzie’s eyes met Varian’s without hesitation or guile. “About Ireta? No. And certainly nothing about a planned piratical takeover. That was completely fortuitous. If you refer to the opportune appearance of the ZD-43 . . . Well, just as all elements of the Fleet have standing orders to pursue a leech when it appears on their sensors, so people like myself, on routine assignments,” and Lunzie accorded Varian a droll grin, “have been primed to obstruct attempts at planet theft whenever and however possible. Don’t know what more we could have done for Ireta than we did but . . .” Lunzie glanced reassuringly again at Varian, “I was not planted with this expedition any more than we were planted. And we weren’t! I would have said Ireta was the least likely takeover property. The heavy-worlders must have been fairly desperate to stake a claim on a world that stinks as much as Ireta.”

  “The stink of transuranic riches must have smelled better.”

  “It’s not like you to be cynical, Varian. Restore your faith in mankind by a close study of your giffs. They’re worth the trouble it takes to preserve them. Remember, if this planet is thrown open, the Ryxi are just a short hop away—”

  “Why would the planet be thrown open?” Apprehension overwhelmed Varian as she thought of the pompous, intolerant Ryxi.

  “It’s rich, that’s why. There is already an established settlement with an immense grid to facilitate the landing of the heaviest ore freighters. Those heavy-worlders in their transport will be given short shrift and tossed back into space. But the tribunal might throw the rest of the planet open to competitive explorations, just to keep Aygar’s group in order—that is, if the Thek are willing to forgo their obvious prior claim to Ireta’s wealth, staked with those old cores Kai has dug up. There is, however, a statute of limitations on how long an unworked claim remains the property of the original discoverers. That herd of Thek might well be the vanguard of Thek exploiters. However, as xenobiologist, you’d do well to investigate the fringes. Two emerging species are better than one, even against a superior claim lodged by the Thek.”

  Varian felt a shudder of distaste and revulsion.

  “Don’t discount them,” Lunzie said. “Predators can display intelligence, too, you know. Look at us! I grant you that the fringes don’t have the intrinsic appeal of your giffs, but the more weight you can pump into your investigations, the more chance you have of protecting the giffs. If only by default.” Lunzie took another sip of the brandy. “By the way, I accepted an invitation to dine with Sassinak tomorrow evening. You and Kai are included.” Lunzie’s expression turned serious again. “I’m hoping that Mayerd’s more sophisticated diagnostic unit can analyze that fringe toxin and come up with a purge to flush the toxin out of Kai’s system. And a nerve regenerator. Oh, the toxin will dissipate in time . . . but he’s needed now, in proper working condition.” To that Varian solemnly lifted her glass and drank. “I figure you’ll just about make it to your bed before that brandy immobilizes you.”

  Lunzie proved correct, and the sound night’s sleep improved Varian’s outlook. Her mind was clear, and she felt able to combat—well, fang-faces, if necessary. Kai had more color in his face when he and Portegin joined her for breakfast, discussing priorities for Portegin’s skills: the new core screen or completing repairs to the shuttle’s damaged console.

  “We’ve communications capability, and I can rig up a remote outside here,” Portegin was saying. “It won’t take me that much longer,” then he turned with an apologetic grin to Varian, “though I do need a few more matrices and more weld-wire, two number-four—”

  “Put it on a list!” Varian said with a mock resignation.

  “I did,” and there was nothing sheepish about the speed with which Portegin handed over his “few” requirements, “and then we can communicate directly with the ARCT-10 when, as, and if it makes its long overdue appearance.”

  “Dimenon and I want to know if the Thek really are squatting on the sites of the old cores. He remembers some of the coordinates, but what we sank were so near to some of the older ones, we can’t be sure unless we have a screen.”

  “Why would they go after theirs? It’s more logical to go after ours, isn’t it?” Portegin asked with some exasperation.

  “Thek logic remains obscure to us poor mortals,” Lunzie said, “but I’d prefer to be in communication with as many entities as possible . . . the ones that have the courtesy to answer.”

  Kai turned to Lunzie in considerable annoyance. “Can’t you see, Lunzie, how important it might be for me to be here today? What can the cruiser’s diagnostic unit do for me that Godheir’s can’t discuss with it?”

  “Because we now have a sample of fringe to serve into the diagnostic unit, and Mayerd’s a specialist in planetary exotic toxins, and the sooner we get the poison flushed out of your system, the sooner you can get out of that padded suit and operate on normal channels! Do I make myself plain? Besides,” and she tossed her hand up, “Sassinak wants you there this morning at 0900. It won’t take you that much longer to go through a diagnosis again, now will it?”

  To that, Kai had to agree.

  “Then let’s go. Kai, will you be recorder for me?” Varian asked briskly as she looped the bag containing all the reports over her shoulder. “Then I can make use of the journey time.” A little reminder to Kai that he wasn’t
the only one to have his plans altered might help. “If you could get our usual escort on tape,” she said as they settled themselves in the battered two-man sled, “I really must see if the nose can be repaired.”

  With cautious and studied movements, Kai got into the sled and strapped himself in. His padded jumpsuit was of a softer than regulation fabric, padded on shin, thigh, calf, elbow and forearm, with skin-gloves to prevent inadvertent injury. Then he pulled the recorder toward him to check its load and sighted for focus and available light. As he completed these preparations, Varian noticed that his eyes were deeply shadowed, a strange contrast to the white flesh about the puncture marks.

  “Ready when you are!” he said.

  Varian nodded and took the sled out of the cave into the still misty morning. The passage of the sled swirled the yellowish fog about, and she used instruments rather than visual guidance in such a pea soup.

  “So much for an outbound record,” she said in disgust. “Nothing will filter that.”

  The telltagger sputtered. “Well, life-forms are coming in at seven o’clock,” Kai said with a semblance of a grin. “You’ve got your escort.”

  “How do they see through this murk?”

  “Why don’t you ask them?”

  “Funny fellow! When do I have the opportunity?”

  “I know the feeling!”

  Whatever tension had existed between them dissipated at this exchange. They traveled on in the murk, Kai silent in deference to the concentration Varian required to fly in such conditions. They had been airborne for over an hour when the mist began to disperse.