Rigi giggled a little, imagining a night digger burrowing away and running into the red and black patterned stuff at Stela, cursing and grumbling, and trundling away to find another place to fossick. Lukka glared at her and Rigi wondered why. She wasn’t insulting the archaeologist. Oh well. Thad and Mr. De Groet had made Lukka reset her m-mule that afternoon and she’d been snarly ever since. She didn’t want anyone, especially Rigi, touching her m-mule. She’d gotten more and more possessive as the expedition continued, and Rigi made certain to stay well away from her things in the tent. Lukka had not done a long-duration study in the field before and Rigi suspected that sharing space with so many people for so long was rubbing her the wrong way.
As Rigi returned from the necessary tent that night, she heard Lukka swearing, followed by, “Then where is it? I’ve gone through the kid’s stuff and she doesn’t have it. I don’t have it, so you must have taken it.”
“No, Lukka, I didn’t touch anything of yours.” Margit sounded much calmer than Lukka did. “Let’s look in the corners and see if it got knocked out of easy sight.”
“Oh frook no! Get out! Get out and don’t come back until I let you in, thief.”
“Easy there! Hey, that’s Auriga’s.”
Rigi started toward the door-flap. “I don’t care. She might have hidden it in here. She hates me, thinks I’m pushing her too hard. Cristina Borloug told me. The kid hides it well, but you can’t trust neo-Trads. Damn, nothing but that prissy shooter of hers. Whoever gave her her permit should be examined for sanity, letting a child have a shooter.”
“Lukka, you already said she didn’t have it. Just stop and ow!”
“Get out! Hear me, get out!” Lukka yelled. “Out, thief, out!” Rigi backed away as fast as she could. The door flap slapped open and Margit emerged, shut the flap, and made claws with her hands as she stared up at the clouds and stars.
“Ah, is there a problem?” Rigi asked, keeping her voice down.
Margit jumped a little, looked around, saw Rigi, and came over to stand beside her. “Miss mighty m-mule can’t find her hairbrush, the one that has the dye capsules in the bristles. She thinks one of us stole it and is hiding it to make her mad.”
Rigi thought back, trying to recall when she’d last seen anything like that. “The brush with the green handle?”
“Yes.”
“Um just before I left, she came in and tossed some things out of her bag. One of them landed on the floor, ma’am, and I think she kicked it into a corner of the tent. Could that have been it?”
“It may well have been.” Margit pulled the end of her braid around and played with the end. “Don’t go in to tell her, though. Not until she calms down. She’s having a temper fit of galactic proportions. Dr. Sanchez wouldn’t let her work on his crew and she’s been furious ever since. I think she’s trying to fall in love with him, and she took it hard.”
“Ew.” Rigi wrinkled her nose. “Ew for falling in love with a team leader, not at you, ma’am.”
“I agree. If there were other women here I’d suggest going to their tent, but there aren’t, Dr. Xian’s probably asleep, and spending the night in the necessary tent has no appeal for me.”
“Me either, ma’am.” Neither mentioned the main food and meeting tent, and Rigi suspected that Margit didn’t want to risk the wrath of Mistress Borloug.
“What? I— Ah ha!” The tent’s door flap swung open and Lukka burst out, waving a brush-like object. “You jerks hid it! But I found it, in the corner where you thought I’d never look, you mean bullies. I win.” She spun around and went back into the tent, muttering, “It was the kid, she had to have done it.”
“Ma’am, is it supposed to rain tonight?” Rigi looked up at the clouds lazily drifting across the starry sky.
Margit blinked and rubbed beside her nose. “Not that I remember.”
“I think I’ll sleep out. The wind should keep the bugs away, and Lukka might calm down a little, ma’am.”
Margit shook her head. “No, it’s not wise. I’ll go in and— Crap!” They ducked as something flew out the still-open tent opening past their heads. It hit the ground and turned on.
“My heavy light,” Rigi said, diving for the thing and turning it off to save the charge.
Margit looked from light to tent and back. “Outside is good. You go get sleeping bags and I’ll duck in and grab some things, and your shooter.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” One of the vehicles had gear for sleeping out, and Rigi dragged two full kits from the vehicle and trudged back with them. She and Margit set up between the dissuader field and their tent. Rigi lay on her back watching the clouds eat the stars and then pass on across the great band of the galaxy, and decided that she didn’t mind sleeping out. It seemed peaceful, and quiet, and—
“Awaaaak, awaaaak!” Rigi almost ripped the bag apart trying to get loose as a dawn-caller bird shrieked from a tree.
“Make it stop,” Margit begged, muffled by most of her bag. “Make it go away. I’m still sleeping.”
As they finished packing the gear, Lukka stomped out of the tent, headed for the necessary. Rigi and Margit dove inside, dressed, packed things, and zoomed back out before Lukka returned. Rigi also reapplied the //polite/harmless// scent, just in case, then hid her kit, aside from the scent vial that went into her belt-bag. Margit helped Rigi return the equipment to the vehicle and they slapped palms, then went to eat.
Rigi stayed well away from Lukka once they reached the site. The walk through the woods from camp had not been fun. The wind may have been stronger than Rigi recalled, because heaps of fresh-broken small branches littered the ground, making the footing a little uncertain in spots. The shadows of the trees felt darker, cooler, and Rigi wanted to reach through the concealed slit in her skirt and undo the tie-down on her shooter. At Aunt Kay and her mother’s suggestion, she’d modified two skirts so that she could wear the shooter under the skirt, over a knee-length pair of leggings so the rough holster-back wouldn’t rub. It made some things more challenging, but the archaeologists appeared to like it better when she seemed unarmed.
Once they reached the site she left the main group and instead worked from atop one of the other mounds, then wandered around here and there. She heard the thunk-kss thunk thump as shovels cut through the grass into the soft dirt, and clods moved away from the trench line. A hint of breeze carried the moist soil smell, along with crushed grass and a hint of wood smoke, probably from the Staré settlement. It seemed rather quiet for morning, and Rigi wondered if a storm were coming. No, the birds she knew usually made more noise as the weather turned, not less. Rigi found a nice perch where she could see the pits from a different angle and drew them, then started wandering toward the segment of outer wall closest to her. It barely showed from the thick brush around it, and Rigi made a note, wondering why here things grew so close.
She startled as voices erupted from behind her.
“Ai hai hai ai!”
“Hey, get away from my m-mule! Get away!”
“Ooh hoo hoo hoo!”
“Ow! Stop, stop!”
“No, don’t touch—” Crack-boomf, like a beam-shooter with a gas-canister failure sounded from behind one of the mounds, near where the archaeologists were digging.
The shouting and calls grew louder, then quieter, and she heard strange, meaty sounds, and thunks like rocks or pellets hitting a soft target, along with metallic pings. The hair on her neck stood up and she whispered a quick prayer, then jammed her pad and pencil in her satchel, slung it over her neck and shoulder to leave her hands free, and turned around.
Staré of all Stamme swarmed around the mounds, coming for her. She heard the license instructor growling about never take on more than three humans or other sapients at a time, and Rigi did not reach for the shooter. Instead she spread her hands in a gesture she’d seen pouchlings and hoplings use, keeping the fingers together so she mimicked a Staré forefoot. Two of the large pale males hop-ran toward her, then stopped abrup
tly. One sniffed so hard she thought he was going to fall over, ears twitching as he gestured with one forefoot before releasing a complicated blend of scents dominated by //anger/no harm.// The males had spears and a large sling-shot-like thing, and pointed the spears at her, then gestured for her to come. Rigi considered trying to run, then changed her mind as four more Staré appeared, including a first Stamm male. They could hop-run faster than she ran, and they outnumbered her.
Rigi offered another prayer to the Creator and Creatrix and followed the warriors.
6
Among the Strange Staré
The Staré directed Rigi away from where the others had been digging. Rigi stayed quiet, concentrating on being calm and still and not smelling like fear, however one did that. She had her satchel, which no one seemed inclined to take away, and her shooter, which the Staré did not know about. She hoped that this had been an accident and a mistake of some kind, and that no one had been injured. Two fifth Stamm and two second Stamm males stayed with her, encouraging her toward the river and away from the ruins. She slowed down once, and they pushed her with a spear, but the butt end, not the point. The lower Stamm males gave her sideways looks, and one said something she thought included the word she knew meant hopling, the youngsters out of the pouch but not of the age of reason and Stamm rules. Rigi hoped she had understood the dialect. Their voices, what she heard, sounded different from the Staré that she knew, and they had longer jaws, almost muzzles.
What should she do? Trying to run away right now seemed like a very bad idea. She had her satchel and the beacon in it, and some emergency kit as well as her art supplies. And the shooter, but Rigi decided that the weapon needed to stay hidden unless her life depended on it. Instead she kept her arms and hands quiet, like she thought a young Staré would, and looked around, trying to memorize where they were going as well as watching her footing on the rough ground. The tangler grass clumps grew more dense, until the Staré found a narrow, well-worn path and arranged themselves into a line with Rigi in the center. They seemed to be moving toward the river and the edge of the forest, in the direction of some of the settlements on the military map. The breeze moved the air around them and she smelled water and mud, confirming her directional hunch. Another set of questions floated to the top of her mind—what did the Staré want, and why had they attacked?
Rigi set the questions aside for the moment. She needed to keep her attention here and now, on the scents and sounds around her, and on not upsetting the Staré. The males around her acted calm, fur unruffled, ears straight up, and she didn’t smell any anger or fear puffs. As they walked on, wisps of breeze brought water smells and a little bit of smoke, like green wood burning, and the sharp smell of crushed leaves of some kind. They entered the edge of the woods. The shade felt nice, and Rigi heard birdsong again, and the rustling, rubbing sound of leaves in the wind. The trees reminded her of the ones on the edge of the Kenusha Plain, but different, shaggier, if that made sense. She noticed the Staré edging away from a bright red bush with fringed, lacy leaves the drooped like a lazy hand, and she did likewise. Was it poisonous, or stinging, or did things like to hide in it? The way her day seemed to be going, all of the above might be true, and she decided to give whatever it was a healthy distance from now on, if she saw another one.
They’d walked for the better part of an hour, or so she guessed, when they reached a settlement. The males stopped and urged her toward a large stump. Rigi checked it for insects and stinging things, didn’t see any, and sat. Sitting felt good. Where were the others? Surely the Staré had not hurt them. Except she’d heard what sounded like rocks hitting an animal, and the Staré carried those large sling-shots. And the spears looked sharp, as did what she took to be knives tucked into belts that two of the males wore over their modesty aprons.
The dark first Stamm male went back up the trail and the lower Stamm males spoke and exchanged scents as they waited. If she listened closely, Rigi could almost understand the words, but not quite. The sounds didn’t exactly match what she was used to, with more soft “th” and s sounds and flatter, nasal vowels. The males used grunts where the Staré she knew tended to click or trill. The scents remained similar, if more complex. The Staré who worked with humans seemed to use as simple scents as possible, probably because compared to a Staré, humans could barely smell anything. Rigi lightly squeezed the little padded pocket at the end of her satchel. She’d tucked in the largest tube of //polite/harmless// in case Lukka decided to go through her things again and broke something. The tube felt intact. Thank you Creator for foresight, thank you Creatrix for wise impulses.
“Ugh, where are we?”
“Probably near a settlement, and be quiet.”
Rigi also heard the sound of a woman crying but trying to muffle the noise. The males beside her went on alert, the fur over their backbones lifting and giving them a ridge. Rigi kept still. The other humans were coming toward her, and she didn’t need to upset the males by trying to go meet the others. The male on her right, pale with a thinner tail than the others, puffed //angry/agitated.// All the more reason to stay still and quiet. Rigi silently recited one of the call and response prayers, one for those in need of strength and comfort.
The humans came into the opening in the woods. “Auriga! Thanks be.” Dr. Xian started toward her. A large third Stamm lowered his spear across the way, blocking her. The xenoarchaeologist stopped and backed up two steps. The dark, polished wood and stone spear lifted again. “Are you hurt?”
“No, ma’am.”
Rigi counted heads as the archaeologists straggled into the clearing in the woods. She saw Dr. Xian, Mr. De Groet, Thad, Margit, four other students and workers, but not Lukka or Dr. Sanchez. Mistress Borloug had stayed at camp, of course, and when they didn’t return would probably call in and summon a search group of some kind. One other student, one of the guys, the blond with blue in his hair who reminded her of someone else, what was his name? Rigi drew a blank. She didn’t see him, either. Thad and another male student had bruises and moved stiffly, as if they’d been beat up a little by the Staré. So did Margit, who had tears rolling down her face and snuffled into her sleeve. Rigi wanted to ask what happened, to go to them, but the thin-tailed male, Skinny she decided to call him, rocked from foot to foot, tail-tip stiff, back fur straight up, surrounded by a veritable cloud of //distress/anger.// Rigi put her finger under her nose to keep from sneezing at the peppery scent.
Rigi heard a commotion, then silence from somewhere just beyond where she could see. After a moment, a large, dark brown and black female walked into the clearing, followed by two younger males. The female wore an elaborate modesty apron and a dark brown vest embroidered with white. The others bowed, and Rigi got to her feet, then bowed as well. The female made a sound like “Stand” and the Staré straightened up. Rigi copied them. The female walked to the humans and spoke with the largest of the second Stamm males. Or was he second? The colorings around her didn’t quite match what Rigi was used to. Everything about the Staré seemed off a quarter shade, as if they were Staré but not quite. The gestures and scents seemed right, but the colors and body shape differed, with smaller, rounder ears, darker colors overall with more patterns, even tabby-like stripes, and lighter build on average. The longer faces reminded Rigi of something, an animal of some kind from Home, but she couldn’t place it, and lots of mammals had long noses and jaws. One of the younger males, or so she assumed, yawned and she saw teeth similar to those of the Staré she knew, although he had flatter, longer cheek flaps.
After the discussion, the female studied the archaeologists, then turned and looked at Rigi. She walked to within a half meter and Rigi hand bowed. The older female released //curious/friendly,// and sniffed Rigi, came even closer, and sniffed again. Her ears tipped to the left, then to the right, and she appeared a bit confused. Then she tapped the claws on her forefeet together, and said the word Rigi took for “hopling.”
The males repeated the word. Rigi pointed to
herself and said, as best she could, “hopling.”
//Satisfaction// arose from three of the Staré and the old female, the Matron as Rigi decided to think of her, made a statement in a loud voice, then walked back into the woods, the two young males following close behind. One of the higher Stamm guards made a sweeping motion with his forefoot, pointed to Rigi, and said what she took to mean “come.” She took two steps toward him, smelled //approval,// and followed. She glanced back and saw the others guiding the rest of the archaeological group along behind her.
It was not until they reached the weathered-silver outer log and stone wall of the Staré village that Rigi had a chance to talk to the others. She hand bowed to her minder and went over, keeping her hands in view and moving slowly and quietly. The Staré didn’t seem to mind. “Are you alright, ma’am?” She asked Dr. Xian.
“Bruised but fine, and very confused. What’s going on? Do you understand this?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t understand. The older female seems to be a leader, but I don’t know of what. They think I’m underage, a hopling, maybe because I look different than you.” She didn’t mention the scent she’d used. “The language is different from the Staré I understand, ma’am, and I’m afraid to try to speak, in case there is an, ah, unhappy misunderstanding or dialect problem.”
The xenoarchaeologists nodded. “Good thought. We need to act harmless, see if we can find out why they attacked us, and wait for rescue. Christina should miss us soon, and send a call for assistance. If we are separated, be careful, Auriga.” The short, stocky scientist glanced left and right, then lowered her voice. “They killed Lukka and Rajiv. I don’t think Rajiv knew what hit him, and Lukka was trying to chase them away from her m-mule after I told her not to.”
Staré: Shikari Book Two Page 9