Chapter Sixteen

Sassinak returned to the bridge by way of Troop Deck, as she wanted to manage a casual encounter with the marine commander. She had already realized that the combination of events might alarm some of the crew, and inflame suspicion of heavyworlders.

She found Major Currald inspecting a rack of weapons; he gave her a somewhat abstracted nod. “Captain - if you’ve a moment, there’s something - “

“Certainly, Major.” He led the way to his office, and Sass noticed that he had seating for both heavyworlders and smaller frames. She chose neither, instead turning to look at the holos on the wall across from his desk. A team of futbal players in clean uniforms posed in neat rows, action shots of the same players splattered with mud, a much younger Currald rappelling down a cliff, two young marine officers (one of them Currald? She couldn’t tell) in camouflage facepaint and assault rifles. A promotion ceremony; Currald getting his “tracks.” Someone not Currald, the holo in a black frame.

“My best friend,” said Currald, as her eyes fixed on that one. She turned to face him; he was looking at the holo himself. “He was killed at Jerma, in the first wave, while I was still on a down shuttle. He’d named his son after me.” He cleared his throat, a bass rasp. “That wasn’t what I asked to speak to you about, captain. I hesitated to come up to Main Deck and bother you, but - “ He cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry to say I expect some trouble.”

Sass nodded. “So do I, and I wanted to tell you first what I’m going to do.” His face stiffened, the traditional heavyworlder response to any threat. “Major Currald, I know you’re a loyal officer; if you’d wanted to advance heavyworlder interests at my expense, you’d have done it long before. We’ve discussed politics before; you know where I stand. Your troops have earned my trust, earned it in battle, where it counts. Whoever that saboteur is, I’m convinced it’s not one of your people, and I’m not about to let anyone pressure me into thinking so.”

He was surprised; she was a little annoyed that he had not trusted her trust. “But I know a lot of the crew think - “

“A lot of the crew don’t think,” she interrupted crisply. “They worry, or they react, but they don’t think. Kipling’s bunions! The heavyworlder mutiny here was forty- three years ago: before you were born, and I was only a toddler on Myriad. None of your marines are old enough to have had anything to do with that. Those greedyguts would-be colonists set out months ago - probably while we were chasing that first ship. But scared people put two and two together and get the Annual Revised Budget Request.” At that he actually grinned, and began to chuckle. Sass grinned back at him. “I trust you, Major, and I trust you to know if your troops are loyal. You’ll hear, I’m sure, that people have asked me to ‘do something’ - throw you all in the brig or something equally ridiculous - and I want you to know right now, before the rumors take off, that I’m not even thinking about that. Clear?”

“Very clear, captain. And thank you. I thought... I thought perhaps you’d feel you had to make some concession. And I’d talked to my troops, the heavyworlders, and we’d agreed to cooperate with any request.” Sass felt tears sting her eyes . . . and there were some who thought heavyworlders were always selfish, never able to think of the greater good. How many of them would have made such an offer, had they been innocent suspects? “You tell your troops. Major, that I am deeply moved by that offer - I respect you, and them, and appreciate your concern. But if no other good comes out of this, the rest of this crew is going to learn that we’re all Fleet: light, heavy, and in-between. And thank you.”

“Thank you, captain.”

Sassinak found the expected delegation waiting outside the bridge when she got back to the main deck. Their spokesman, ‘Tenant Varhes, supervised the enlisted mess, she recalled. Their concern, he explained in a reedy tenor, was for the welfare of the ship. After all, a heavyworlder had already poisoned officers and crew. . . .

“A mentally imbalanced person,” said Sassinak coldly, “who happened to also be a heavyworlder, poisoned officers - including the marine commander, who happens to be a heavyworlder - and crew, including some heavyworlders. Or have you forgotten that?”

“But if they should mutiny. The heavyworlders on this planet mutinied - “

“Over forty years ago, when your father was a toddler, and Major Currald hadn’t been born. Are you suggesting that heavyworlders have telepathic links to unborn heavyworlders?” That wasn’t logical, but neither were they, and she enjoyed the puzzlement on their faces as they worked their way through it. Before Varhes could start up again, she tried a tone of reasonableness, and saw it affect most of them. “Look here: the heavyworlders on this ship are Fleet - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They’re our companions, they’ve fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that’s what they had in mind. You think they’re involved in sabotage on the ship - I’m quite sure they’re not. But even so, we’re taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn’t make the others guilty. Suppose it’s someone from Gian-IV - “ a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, “would that make Varhes guilty?”

“But it’s not the same,” came a voice from the back of the group. “Everybody knows heavyworlders are planet pirates, and now we’ve found them in action - “

“Some planet pirates are heavyworlders, we suspect, and some are not - some are even Ryxi.” That got a nervous laugh. “Or consider the Seti.” A louder laugh. Sassinak let her voice harden. “But this is enough of this. I don’t want to hear any more unfounded charges against loyal members of Fleet, people who’ve put their lives on the line more than once. I’ve already told one ensign to review the regulations on conspiracy, and I commend them to each of you. We have real hostiles out there, people: real would-be planet pirates, who may have allies behind them. We can’t afford finger-pointing and petty prejudices among ourselves. Is that quite clear?” It was; the little group melted away, most of them shamefaced and clearly regretting their impetuous actions. Sass hoped they’d continue to feel that way.

Back on the bridge, Sass reviewed the status of the various parties involved. The heavyworld transport’s captain had entered a formal protest against her action in “interfering with the attempt to respond to a distress beacon.” Her eyebrows rose. The only distress beacon in the story so far had been at the Ryxi planet, the beacon that had sent Mazer Star on its way here. The heavyworlder transport had run past there like a grass fire in a windstorm. Now what kind of story could he have concocted, and what kind of faked evidence would be brought out to support it? She grinned to herself; this was becoming even more interesting than before, The “native” heavyworlders, descendants of the original survey and exploration team ... or at least of the mutineers of that team . . . were mulling over the situation but keeping their distance from the cruiser. The transport’s captain had kept in contact with them by radio, however.

The Mazer Star, supply ship for the Ryxi colony, had managed to contact the survivors who’d been in cold-sleep. So far their statements confirmed everything on the distress beacon, with plenty of supporting detail. A mixed exploration team, set down to survey geological and biological resources - including children from the EEC survey vessel, the ARCT-10, that had carried them, highly unusual. Reversion of the heavyworlder team members to carnivory - their subsequent mutiny -  murder, torture of adults and children - their attempt to kill all the lightweights by stampeding wildlife into the camp. The lightweights’ successful escape in a life-boat to a seacliff cave, and their decision to go into coldsleep and await the ARCT-10’s return.

Sass ran through the computer file Captain Godheir had transferred, explaining everything from the original mixup that had led the Ryxi to think the human team had been picked up by the ARCT-10, to the Mazer Star’s own involvement, after a Thek intrusion. Thek!  Sass shook her head over that; this had been complicated enough before; Thek were a major complication in themselves. Godheir’s story, unlike that of the heavyworlder Captain Cruss, made perfect (if ironic) sense, and his records checked out clean with her on-board databanks. Mazer Star was in fact listed as one of three shuttle-supply ships on contract to a Ryxi colony in this system. She frowned at the personnel list Godheir had transferred, of the expedition members stranded after the mutiny. Lunzie? It couldn’t be, she thought -  and yet it wasn’t a common name. She’d never run into another Lunzie. Medic, age 36 elapsed - and what did that mean? Then she saw the date of birth, and her breath quickened. By date of birth this woman was ancient - impossibly old - and yet -  Sass fed the ID data into the computer, and told Com to ready a low-link to Fleet Sector Headquarters. About time the Admiral knew what had happened, and she was going to need a lot of information. Starting with this.

“Captain?” That was Borander, on the pinnace, with a report of the airsled victims’ condition.

“Go ahead.”

“The woman is conscious now; the medics have cleared her for transport. The man is still out, and they want to package him first.”

“Have you had a contact from their base?”

“No, captain.”

“You may find them confused, remember, and not just by a knock on the head. Don’t argue with them; try to keep them calm until you get a call from their base, or our medical crew gets to them.” The message relayed from Godheir was that both crew were barriered by an Adept, and thought they were members of a Fleet cruiser’s crew. They’d be more than a little surprised to find themselves in a different cruiser, Sass thought, particularly if the barriers had been set with any skill.

And one of these was the team co-leader - essentially the civilian authority of the entire planet. Governor? Sass wondered what she was like, and decided she’d better be set up for a formal interview just in case. Some of these scientist types didn’t think highly of Fleet. She signalled for an escort, then went to her office, and brought up all the screens. One showed the pinnace just landing, and when she plugged in her earpiece, Borander told her that a message had just come from the survivor’s base for the woman. Sass approved a transfer, and watched on the screen as Borander and his pilot emerged to give their passenger privacy. She presumed that the unconscious man was in the rear compartment, with a medic. When the woman - Varian, Sass reminded herself -  came out, she seemed to be a vigorous, competent sort. She was certainly used to having her own way, for she took one look around and began to argue with Borander about something. Sass wished she’d insisted on an open channel between them, but she hadn’t expected that anything much would happen. Now she watched as the argument progressed, with hand-waving and head-shaking and - by the expressions - raised voices. She pressed a button, linking her to the bridge, and said “Com, get me an audio of channel three.”

“ - Nothing to do with Aygar and anyone in his generation or even his parents’.” The woman’s voice would have been rich and melodic if she hadn’t been angry - or stressed by the crash, Sass reminded herself. She followed the argument with interest. Borander let himself be overwhelmed - first by the woman’s vehemence, and then by her claim of precedence as planetary governor. Not, Sass was sorry to notice, by her chain of logic, which was quite reasonable. She shook her head at the screen, disappointed - she’d thought Borander had more backbone. Of course the woman was right: the descendants of mutineers were not themselves guilty, and he should have seen that for himself. He should also have foreseen her claim of authority, and avoided the direct confrontation with it. Most of all, Fleet officers shouldn’t be so visibly nervous about their captains’ opinion - acting that way in a bar, as an excuse not to get into a row, was one thing, but here it made him look weak - never a good idea. How could she help him learn that, without losing all his confidence - because he didn’t seem to have much.

So, Co-leader Varian wanted to bring both those young heavyworlders into her office and argue their case right away, did she? She was no doubt primed for an argument with a boneheaded Fleet battleaxe . . . Sass grinned to herself. Varian might be a planetary governor, of sorts, but she didn’t know much about tactics. Not that she planned to be an enemy. She followed their progress up the ramp and through the ship, but by the time they appeared outside her office, she was waiting to greet them. As she stood and shook hands with Varian, she saw the younger woman’s eyes widen slightly. Whatever she’d thought a cruiser captain was like, this was clearly not it ... Not the old battleaxe you expected, hmm? thought Sass. Nor the office you expected? For Varian’s eyes had lingered on the crystal sculpture, the oiled wood desk with its stunning pattern of dark red and black graining, the rich blue carpet and white seating. Sass gave the two young heavyworlders a polite greeting. One of them - Winral?  - seemed almost dazed by his surroundings, very much the country cousin lost in a world of high technology. The other, poised between hostility and intelligent curiosity, was a very different order of being indeed. If there were wild humans, Sass thought, as there are wild and domestic kinds of some animals, this would be a wild one. All the intelligence, but untamed. On top of that, he was handsome, in a rough-cut way.

She continued with pleasantries, offering a little information, feeling out the three of them. Varian relaxed quickly once she realized Sassinak intended no harm to the innocent descendants of the mutineers. Clearly she felt at home in civilized surroundings and had not gone native. Varian wanted to know the location of the ARCT-10, of course.

“That’s another good question to which I have no answer,” Sass told her, and explained that she’d initiated a query. It hadn’t been listed as destroyed, and no distress beacon had shown up, but it might take days to figure out what might have happened. Then she turned to Aygar, and asked for his personal identification - which he gave as a pedigree. Typical, she thought, for the planet-born: you are who your parents were. Fleet personnel gave ship and service history; scientists, she’d heard, gave university affiliation and publications. Winral’s pedigree, when he gave it, contained some of the same names . . . and after all the mutineers had been few. They’d probably worked to avoid inbreeding, especially if they weren’t sure how long it would be before a colony ship joined them. Or if one would come at all.

When she began to review the legal status of the younger heavyworlders, Varian interrupted to insist that the planet did, indeed, have a developing sentient species. Sass let her face show surprise, but what she really felt was consternation. Things had been complicated enough before, with the contending claims of mutiny, mining rights, developmental rights derived from successful settlement - and the Theks’ intervention. But all rules changed when a planet had a sentient or developing sentient native species. She was well-read in space law - all senior officers were - but this was more than a minor complication - and one she could not ignore.

Avian, too, Varian told her. Sass thought of the Ryxi, volatile and vain, and decided to keep all mention of Varian’s flyers off the common communication links. At least the Ryxi weren’t as curious as they were touchy -  they wouldn’t come winging by just to see what the excitement was all about.

Aygar, meanwhile, wanted to insist that the heavyworlders at the settlement owned the entire planet -  and could grant parts of it to the colonists in that transport if they wanted to. Sassinak found herself enjoying his resistance, though she made it clear that under Federation law his people could not claim anything but what they had developed: the mine, the fields, the landing grid. And she strongly advised him to have nothing more to do with the heavyworlder transport, if he wanted to avoid suspicion of a conspiracy.

When she offered him her hand, at the conclusion of the interview, she wondered if he’d try to overwhelm her. If he was as smart as he looked - as he must be to have accomplished what the reports said - he would restrain himself. And so he did. His grip on her hand was only slightly stronger than hers on his, and he released her hand without attempting a throw. She smiled at him, well-pleased by his manner, and made a mental note to try recruiting him for Fleet duty. He’d make a terrific marine, if he could discipline himself like that. She explained that she’d be sending over data cubes on FSP law, standard rights and responsibilities of citizenship, the sections on colony law, and so on, and that she’d supply certain items from the ship’s stores under the shipwreck statutes. Then the two heavyworlders were gone, with an escort back to the outside, and she turned her attention back to Varian.

Varian would clearly rather have left with the heavyworlders, and Sass wondered about that. Why was she being so protective? Most people in her position would, Sass thought, have been more ready to see all the heavyworlders in irons. Had she formed some kind of attachment? She watched the younger woman’s face as she settled into one of the chairs. “A rather remarkable specimen, that Aygar. Are there more like him?” She let her voice carry more than a hint of sensuality, and watched a flush spread across Varian’s cheek. So ... did she really think older women had no such interests, or was it jealousy?

“I’ve only encountered a few of his generation - “

“Yes, generation.” Sassinak decided to probe a little deeper. “You’re now forty-three years behind your own. Will you need counseling? For yourself or the others?” She knew they would, but saw Varian push that possibility away. Did she not realize the truth, or was she unwilling to show weakness in front of a stranger?

“I’ll know when I get back to them,” Varian was saying. “The phenomenon hasn’t caught up with me yet.”

Sassinak thought it had, at least in part, but admired the woman for denying it. And what was this going to do to Lunzie? Somehow she wasn’t nearly as worried about her. Varian asked again about the ARCT-10, as if Sassinak would have lied in the first place. A civilian response, Sass thought: she never lied without a good reason, and usually managed without needing to. Someone came in to report that Varian’s sled had been repaired, and Sass brought the interview to a close. Supplies - of course, a planetary governor could requisition anything she required - just contact Ford. Sass knew he would be glad for a chance to get off the plateau and see some of the exotic wildlife. But now ...

“Your medic’s name is Lunzie, isn’t it?” she asked. Varian, slightly puzzled, nodded. Sass let her grin widen, enjoying the bombshell she was about to drop. “I suppose it was inevitable that one of us would encounter her. A celebration is in order. Will you convey my deepest respects to Lunzie?” Varian’s expression now almost made her burst out laughing: total confusion and disbelief. “I cannot miss the chance to meet Lunzie,” Sass finished up. “It isn’t often one gets the chance to entertain one’s great-great-great grandmother.” Varian’s mouth hung slightly open, and her eyes were glazed. Gotcha, thought Sass wickedly, and in the gentlest possible tones asked one of the junior officers to escort Varian to her sled.

Nothing wrong with that young woman that seasoning wouldn’t cure, but - Sass chuckled to herself - it was fun to outwit a planetary governor. Even one who’d had a concussion. She followed Varian’s progress through the ship, and was pleased to note that shock or not, she remembered to check on her crewmate. When Med queried, with a discreet push of buttons, Sass acknowledged and approved his leaving with Varian. Varian, she suspected, never considered that he might have been held.

Ford appeared, and shook his head at her expression. “Captain, you look entirely too pleased about something.”

“I may be. But compared to the last cruise, things are going extremely well, complications and all. Of course we don’t know why the Thek are here, or what they’re going to do, or if that heavyworlder transport has allies following after - “ Ford shook his head. “I doubt that. A hull that size could carry colony seedstock, machinery and all - “

“True. That’s what I’m hoping - but you notice I put a relay satellite in orbit, and left a streaker net out. Just in case. Oh yes - you’re interested in the sort of wild-life they’ve got here, aren’t you?”

“Sure - it was kind of a hobby of mine, and when I was on the staff at Sector III, they had this big museum just down the hill - “

“Good. Are you willing to take on a fairly dangerous outside job? And do some acting in the meantime?”

“Of course.” He blanked all the expression off his face and faked a Diplo accent. “I could pretend to be a heavyworlder if you want, but I’m afraid they’d notice something ...”

Sass shook her head at him. “Be serious. I need to know more about this world - direct data, not interpreted by those survivors, no matter how expert they are in their fields. Varian, the co-leader who came today, is entirely too eager to claim sentient status for an avian species. It may be justified, or it may not, but I want independent data. There’s something odd about her reactions to the Iretan-born heavyworlders, too. She ought to be furious, still - she’s less than a ten-day out of coldsleep; she witnessed a murder; the initial indictment filed with Godheir spoke of intentional injury to both co-leaders. That’s all fresh in her mind, or should be. Her reasoning’s correct; the grandchildren of mutineers are not responsible. But it’s just not normal for her to think that clearly when her friends and colleagues have suffered. I’ve seen this kind of idealism backfire - this determination to save every living thing can be carried too far. She’s very dedicated, and very spirited, but I’m not sure how stable she is. With a tribunal coming up to determine the fate of this planet and those people, I need something solid.”

“I see your point, captain, but what do you want me to do?” “Well - I’d guess she’d fall for unconditional enthusiasm. Boyish gush, if you can manage it - and I know you can.” She let her eyes caress him, and he laughed aloud. “Yes - exactly that. Be dinosaur-crazy, act as if you’d do anything for a mere glimpse of them - you’re so lucky to have the chance, and so on. You can start by being skeptical - are they really dinosaurs? Are they sure? Let’s pick a survey team today, and brief them - you can introduce them as fellow hobbyists tomorrow. They’ll probably accept two or three, and if they go for that maybe another two or three later. How’s that sound?”

“Right. Makes sense.” Ford, faced with a problem, tackled it wholly, absorbed and alert at once. She watched as he scrolled through the personnel files, with a search on secondary specialties. “We’ll have to pick those who do have a real interest - they’d catch on to something faked, and I can’t teach someone all about dinosaurs in one night - “ He stopped, and fed an entry to her screen. “How about Borander? He’s taken twelve hours of palaeontology.”

“No, not Borander. Did you see how he interacted with Varian?”

“No, I was with Currald then.”

“Well, take a look at the tape later. Young trout let her dominate him. Admittedly, she’s a Disciple, and she’s declared herself planetary governor, but I don’t like my officers buckling that easily. He needs a bit of seasoning. Who else?”

“Segendi - no, he’s a heavyworlder and I doubt you want to complicate things that way - “

“Right.”

“What about Maxnil, in supply? His secondary specialty is cartography, and he’s listed as having an associate degree in xenobio.” Sass nodded, and Ford went on, quickly turning up a short list of three crew members who could be considered “dinosaur buffs.” It was even easier to come up with a list of those who knew a reasonable amount of geology, although harder to cut the list to three. All had excellent records, and all had worked with non-Fleet personnel.

Sass nodded, at last. “Good selection. You brief them, Ford, and be sure they understand that they did not know dinosaurs were here until tomorrow. We didn’t see anything on the way down: we came too fast. I had seen the information stripped from the beacon, but no one else had. Once you see the beasts, I imagine you won’t have to fake your reactions. But keep in mind that I need information on more than large, noisy, dangerous reptiloids.”

Ford nodded. “Do you still want to speak to Major Currald before lunch?”

“If he feels he has things well in hand with the transport. What’s that captain’s name - Cruss? Foul-mouthed creature, that one. I want Wefts and heavyworlders, round the clock - “

“Here’s the roster.” As usual. Ford had anticipated her request. She thought again how lucky she was to have Ford this time, and not Huron. In a situation like this, Huron’s initiative and drive could have been disastrous. She could trust Ford to back her tactics, not go off and do something harebrained on his own.

She glanced at the roster of Fleet personnel stationed inside the transport to ensure that personnel in coldsleep were not revived. She didn’t want to face a thousand or more heavyworlders: the Zaid-Dayan would have no trouble killing them all, but Fleet commanders were supposed to avoid the necessity of a massacre. Each shift combined Wefts and heavyworlders: she trusted her heavyworlders, but with Wefts to witness, no one could later claim that they’d betrayed her trust. “Get Currald on the line, would you?”

A few moments later, Currald’s face filled one of the screens, and he confirmed that the situation remained stable.

“I’ve told the native-born survivors that I’ll supply some of their needs, too,” Sassinak told him. “I don’t want them to think that all good comes from Diplo. I’ve got some things on order, that’ll be delivered to the perimeter. But if you can turn surveillance and supervision over to someone, I’d appreciate your company at lunch,”

“You’re not giving them weapons - “

“No, certainly not.”

“Give me about half an hour, if you can, captain; I’m still arranging the flank coverage.”

“That’s fine. I’ll order a meal for half an hour from now - and if you’re held up along the way, just give me a call.” She cleared the circuit, and turned to Ford. “See if Mayerd can meet with us, too - and you, of course, after you’ve notified your short lists that you’ll brief them this afternoon. I’ll be on the bridge, but we’ll eat in here.”

On the bridge, she told the duty officer to carry on, and came up behind Arly. Although most of the ship had been released from battle stations, the weapons systems were powered up and fully operational. It would be disastrous if someone erred at this range - no doubt the transport would be destroyed (with great loss of life she’d have to account for) but the resultant backlash could endanger the Zaid-Dayan. Arly acknowledged her without taking her gaze from the screens.

“I’m just running a test on quadrant two - “ she said over her shoulder. “Interlock systems - making sure no one can pull the same trick again - “

Sass had more sense than to bother her at that moment, and waited, watching the screens closely, although she could not interpret some of the scanning traces. Finally Arly sighed, and locked her board down.

“Safe. I hope.” She smiled a bit wearily. “Are you going to explain, or is this a great security mystery?”

“Both,” said Sass. “How about lunch in my office?”

Arly’s eyes slid back to her screens. “I should stay - “

“You’ve got a perfectly competent second officer, and it’s my considered opinion that nothing’s going to break loose right now. That Cruss may be up to something, but we’ve interrupted his plans, and this is our safe period. Relax - or at least get out of that seat and eat something.”

Currald brought the stench of the Iretan atmosphere back into Sassinak’s office, just as the filters had finally cleared it out after the morning’s visit. He apologized profusely, but she waved his apology aside.

“We’re going to be here awhile, and we might as well adapt. Or learn to wear nose-plugs.”

Arly was trying not to wrinkle her nose, but positioned herself a seat away from Currald. “It’s not you,” she said to him, “but I simply can’t handle the sulfur smell. Not with a meal on the table. It makes everything taste terrible.”

Currald actually chuckled, a sign of unusual trust. “Maybe that’s what drove the mutineers to eating meat -  I’ve heard it ruins the sense of smell.”

“Meat?” Mayerd looked up sharply from a sheaf of lab reports. “It makes the person who eats it stink of sulfur derivatives, but it doesn’t confuse the eater’s own nose.”

“I don’t know ...” Sass paused with a lump of standard green vegetable in white sauce halfway to her mouth. “If things taste different in a sulfurous atmosphere - and they do - “ She eyed the lump of green with distaste. “Then maybe meat would taste good.”

“I never thought of that.” Mayerd’s brow wrinkled. Ford grinned at the table generally.

“Here comes another scientific paper . . . The Effect of Ireta’s Atmosphere on the Perception of Protein Flavorings’ . . . ‘Sulfur and the Taste of Blood.

“Don’t say that in front of Co-leader Varian,” Sass warned. “She seems to be very sensitive where the prohibition is concerned. She wouldn’t think it was funny.”

“It’s not funny,” Mayerd said thoughtfully. “It’s an idea ... I never thought of it before, but perhaps an atmospheric stench would affect the kinds of foods people would prefer, and if someone were already tempted to consider the flesh of living beings an acceptable food, the smell might increase the probability - “ The others groaned loudly, in discordant tones, and Mayerd glared at them. Before she could retort, Sassinak brought them to order, and explained why she’d wanted them to meet.

“Co-leader Varian is perfectly correct that the Iretans are not responsible for the mutiny or its effects. At the same time, it’s in the interests of FSP to see that this planet is not opened to exploitation, and that the Iretans assimilate into the Federation with as little friction as possible. They’ve been told a pack of lies, as near as we can tell: they think that the original team was made up of heavyworlders, and abandoned unfairly. They expected help from heavyworlders only, and apparently think heavyworlders and lightweights cannot cooperate.

“We have the chance to show them that heavyworlders are assimilated, and welcome, in our society. We all know about the problems - Major Currald has had to put up with harrassment, as have most if not all heavyworlders in Fleet - but he and the others in Fleet believe that the two types of humans are more alike than different. If we can drive a friendly wedge between those young people and that heavyworlder colony ship - if we can make it clear that they have a chance to belong to a larger universe - perhaps they’ll agree to compensation for their claims on Ireta, and withdraw. That would be a peaceful solution, quite possible for such a small group, and with compensation they could gain the education they’d need to live well elsewhere. Even if they don’t give up all their claims, they might be more willing to live within the limits a tribunal is almost certain to impose . . . especially if Varian is right, and there’s a sentient native species.”

Currald said, “Do you want active recruitment? The ones I’ve seen would probably pass the interim tests.”

Sass nodded. “If you find some you want for the marine contingent, let me know. I’d approve a few, but we’d have to be sure we could contain them. I don’t believe any have been groomed as agents, but that’s a danger I can’t ignore.”

Mayerd frowned, tapping the lab reports on the table beside her tray. “These kids were brought up on natural foods, not to mention meat. Do you think they could adjust to shipboard diets right away?”

“I’m not sure, and that’s why I want you in on this from the beginning. We’re going to need to know everything about their physiology. They’re apparently heavyworlder-bred, but growing up on a normal-G planet hasn’t brought out the full adaptation. Major Currald may have some insights into the differences, or perhaps they’d be willing to talk to other heavyworlders more freely. But you’re the research expert on the medical staff: you figure out what you need to know and how to find out. Keep me informed on what you need.”

“I’ve always thought,” said Mayerd, with a sidelong glance at Currald, “that it’s possible heavyworlders do require a blend of nutrients delivered most efficiently in meat. Particularly those on cold worlds. But you can’t do research on that in the Federation - it’s simply unmentionable. Not fair, really. Scientific research shouldn’t be hampered by religious notions.”

A tiny smile had twitched Currald’s lips. “Research has been done, clandestinely of course, on two heavy-G worlds I know of. It’s not just flesh, doctor, but certain kinds, and yes, it’s the most efficient source of the special requirements we have. But I don’t think you want to hear this at table.”

“Another consideration,” said Sassinak into the silence that followed, “is that of crew solidarity. It will do the heavyworlder critics in our crew good to see what heavyworlder genes look like when not stressed by high-G: with all respect, Currald, the Iretans look like normals more than heavyworlders.” He nodded, sober but apparently not insulted. “But as you know, we’ve had trouble with a saboteur before. If anything happened now, to heighten tensions between heavyworlders and lightweights - “ She paused, and glanced at every face. They all nodded, clearly understanding the implications. “Arly, I know you’ve made every possible safety check of the weapons systems, but it’s going to be hard to keep your crews fully alert in the coming days. Yet you must: we must not have any accidental weapons discharges.”

“Speaking of that,” said Hollister. “I presume we’re screened. . . ?” Sass pressed the controls and nodded. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell you, and since the crisis appeared to be over - “ He pulled a small gray box from his pocket and laid it on the table. “I found this in the number two power center just as we landed. Disabled it, of course, but I think it was intended to interfere with the tractor controls.”

Sass picked up the featureless box and turned it over in her hands. “Induction control?”

“Right. It could be used for all sorts of things, including setting off weapons - “

“Where, precisely, did you find it?”

“Next to a box of circuit breakers, where it looked like it might be part of that assembly - some boxes have another switchbox wired in next to them. Same shade of gray, same type of coating. But I’ve been looking every day for anything new, anything different - that’s how I spotted it. At first I wasn’t even sure, but when I touched it, it came off clean - no wires. Nela cracked it and read the chips for me; that’s how I know it was intended to mess up the tractor beam.”

“Dupaynil?” She looked down the table at him. His expression was neutral. “I’d wish to have seen it in place, yet clearly it had to be disabled in that situation, with the possibility of hostile fire. Did you consider physical traces?”

Hollister nodded. “Of course. I held it with gloves, and Nela dusted it, but we didn’t find any prints. Med or you, sir, might find other traces.”

“The point is,” said Sassinak, “that we’ve finally found physical evidence of our saboteur. Still aboard, since I’m sure Hollister can say that wasn’t in place yesterday, and still active.”

“If we find a suspect,” Dupaynil said, “we might look inside this for traces of the person who programmed it.”

“If we find a suspect,” said Sassinak. “And we’d better.” On that note, the meeting adjourned.