Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, after several hours in conference with her supply officers, she began allocating spares and replacement supplies to the Iretans and the expedition survivors. Surely Sector would order them back to report, rather than expecting them to finish the usual cruise - and that meant they could spare all this. She put her code on the requisitions, and went back to lean on Com again. Better than brooding about Lunzie -  the more she thought about that, the more unsettled she felt. The woman was younger, not older - apparently a fine doctor, certainly an interesting dinner companion, but she could not feel the awe she wanted to feel. Lunzie might have been one of her younger officers, someone she could tease gently. And yet this “youngster” had a right to ask things that Sassinak didn’t want to recall. She knew, by the look in Lunzie’s eyes, that she would ask: she would want to know about Sassinak’s childhood, what had happened.

She saw a crewman flinch from her expression, and realized her thoughts had control other face again. This would never do. She wondered if Lunzie felt the same tangle of feelings. If she thought her ancestress should somehow be older, in experience, perhaps Lunzie felt that Sassinak should be younger. And yet she’d had that jolt of sympathy, that instant feeling of recognition, of kinship. They’d be able to work their way through the tangle somehow. They had to. For the first time since her capture, Sassinak felt a longing for something outside Fleet. Perhaps she shouldn’t have avoided her family all these years. It might not have been so bad, and certainly Lunzie wasn’t the stuff of nightmares.

She caught herself grinning as she remembered Mayerd’s tart comments. No, Lunzie wasn’t a raving beauty - though she wasn’t exactly plain either, at least not in that green dress, and she had the warm personality which could draw attention when she wanted it. And Lunzie approved of her, at least so far. It will work out, she thought again, fiercely. I’m not going to lose her without at least trying. Trying what, she could hardly have said.

From this musing, the alarm roused her to instant alertness. Now what? Now, it seemed, the Thek were appearing, and demanding that the expedition leaders be brought to the landing site.

“Ford, take the pinnace,” said Sassinak, ignoring Timran’s eager upward glance. She had finally let him take an airsled on one of the supply runs, and he’d managed to drop one crate on its corner and spew the contents all over the landing area. One disk-reader landed on an Iretan’s foot, creating another diplomatic crisis (fortunately brief: they were barely willing to acknowledge pain, which made it hard to claim injury), and Tim was grounded again.

While the pinnace was on its way, she tried to guess what the Thek were up to this time. They’d been acting like ephemerals, in the past few days, whizzing from place to place, digging up cores, and, unusual for Thek, chattering with humans. Then the Thek appeared above the landing grid.

“Large targets,” said Arly, her fingers nervously flicking the edges of her control panel. They were, in fact, the largest Thek Sassinak had ever seen.

“They’re friendly,” she said, wishing she was entirely sure of that. She had enough to explain to the admiral now, without a Thek/human row. “Are they coming to see us, or that co-leader fellow?”

“Or them?” Sassinak pointed to the main screen, showing two of the largest Thek descending near the heavyworlder transport. “Umm. Let’s treat it as diplomatic: Major Currald, let’s have a formal reception out there, and,” she turned, quickly pointing at officers with the most experience in working with aliens, “you, and you, and - yes, you. We’ll assume a delegation’s coming, and since we represent FSP here, they’ll come to us.”

By the time she reached Troop Deck and the landing ramp, two of the smallest Thek had planted themselves on the grid nearby. Around the bulge of the Zaid-Dayan, she could see a section of the pinnace as Ford landed it.

But the Thek appeared to be far more interested in Kai than in the cruiser’s welcoming committee. One of them actually greeted him, in recognizable if strained speech. Sassinak motioned her officers to silence and did not interrupt. Whatever was going on, she’d find out more by going along with the Thek plan.

The Thek offered a core to Kai for examination; he gave the coordinates of its original location. Thunder rumbled underfoot: Sassinak noticed nothing in the sky. Theks talking to Theks? Sassinak glanced at each of them in turn: the immense ones and a medium - huge one near the heavyworlder colony ship, the medium -  large and relatively smaller ones nearby. After a moment’s silence, Sassinak leaned forward.

“Kai, ask if this planet is claimed by Thek.” Although she spoke as softly as she could, the Thek answered her instantly.

“Verifying.” Then, a moment later, “Dismiss. Will contact.”

Kai turned to Sassinak, a look between respect, frustration, and annoyance. Well, she had intruded on his private conversation. She shrugged, and tried to lighten the mood.

“Dismissed, are we?”

Apparently that worked, for she could see his lips twitching with controlled laughter. Ford gave her a fast wink, then smoothed his face into utter blandness as Kai looked at him. What had Ford been up to with the co-leader? The wink told her only that he’d have a good story to tell later . . . and she’d have to wait to hear it. In the meantime, she dismissed the honor guard, who departed cursing quietly at having been put into the tight-collared formal uniform in this heat if it wasn’t really necessary, and invited Kai up for a visit.

He certainly looked better today, far more the sort of vigorous, outgoing young geologist who had been chosen co-leader with Varian. For a moment she wondered if he and Varian had ever paired up - and if so, why they weren’t paired now.

But the real question was what the Thek were doing on Ireta. So many Thek on one supposedly unclaimed planet was as great a mystery as anything else. Kai ventured hardly any explanation, beyond saying that perhaps the Thek were “worried.” Sassinak wondered if that was really all he thought, or all he thought he should say. She had no reason to hide her chain of logic from him, and went on to explain, watching closely for his reaction.

“A convocation of such size surely suggests a high degree of interest, Kai. And that old core - that was the same core which brought Tor?” He nodded, and she went on. “All those little Thek sucking up old cores - when they weren’t frying fringes . . . you see my point, surely. Your EEC ship’s records, and Fleet records, both list Ireta as unexplored. Yet you found Thek relics and the first Thek on scene appeared surprised at them. Doesn’t that suggest a missing link in the famous Thek chain of information? Something happened, here on Ireta, to one or more Theks, which somehow did not transmit to the others?” Kai followed her argument but his expression settled on anxiety rather than relief. “The old core is of Thek manufacture,” he said, almost reluctantly. “Unquestionably it’s generated Thek interest. But I can’t see why ...”

Sassinak felt a moment’s impatience. The scientists always wanted to know why, before they halfway understood exactly what had happened. Or so it seemed to her. She was glad enough to put events in order, sure she had all the relevant parts, before worrying about why and what if. She let Kai and her officers go on talking, wandering their own logical or illogical paths through Thek behavior, the geology of Ireta, and the probable age of the core in question.

A light flashed on her console: message from the bridge. She thumbed the control on her earplug. “Sir, all those little Thek have landed near the original expedition campsite ...”

With two key punches, she had that up on one of the screens and the scene stopped Kai in mid-sentence.

“Every fringe on Ireta is homing in on our campsite,” he said, his expression anxious.

It took her a moment to realize what he meant: the heat exuded by so many Thek would inevitably attract fringes, just as one Thek had attracted the fringe that had attacked Kai. Before she could think of something to reassure him, the screen showed new Thek activity as a score or more spun away crazily into the sky and offscreen. Now what were they doing? Kai looked as confused as she felt.

By this time, Sassinak felt the need of refreshment and, noticing that Kai looked a little wan, she invited him into the officer’s mess. A few deft comments from her and Kai, and Anstel and Pendelman were into a lively discussion of Iretan geology with excursions into evolutionary biology. Sassinak listened politely enough, but with the internal feeling of the adult listening to eight-year-olds discussing the merits of competing toys. At least they were busy and happy, and if they stayed out of trouble, she might get some work done.

Varian’s arrival added another bit of fizz to the meeting, so that Sassinak had no need to keep up any corner of the conversation. Relaxed, she let herself think about the Thek from a Fleet perspective. If the data relays had all worked correctly - and she knew whose heads would roll if they hadn’t - they’d gathered more information about Thek in flight and landing today than Fleet had anywhere in its files.

Her technical specialists, now busily talking hyracotheriums and golden fliers with Varian, had already taken discreet samples of the landing grid and the plateau face. Those data, along with the observations of the large Thek sinking into the landing grid, should reveal more about the way Thek handled heat dispersion.

Varian broke into her musings with the kind of questions a planetary governor ought to ask, Sassinak noted. Were the Thek known to be interested in planet piracy? Were they indeed? She wished she knew.

The meeting broke up shortly after that, with Anstel now in the role of one of the “science officers” accompanying Varian and Kai. The rest of that day, Sassinak spent composing messages for Sector Headquarters, and poring over the first, incomplete replies to her queries. Fleet had to be informed that the Thek were there, and rather than be bombarded by stupid questions when she was likely to be busy, better that they be supplied with some sort of explanation . . . but the admiral would want all the data. In order.

Her original signals, asking for clarification of Mazer Star’s status, the Ryxi colony’s status, and so on, had of necessity been brief. The incoming stack in her official file had its own priorities. Only one item surprised her, and that was “predominant owner” of the company holding title to the heavyworlder transport: Paraden.

She thought of the pale-eyed, red-headed young man who had tried to get her in such trouble in the Academy, and of Luisa Paraden’s connection (of sorts) to the slaver she and Huron had captured. This time it was Arisia Paraden Styles-Hobart, holding fifty three percent, and not on the board of directors at all ... but Fleet had been able to discover that she was active in the company ... or at least A. P. Hobart, whose ID for tax purposes was the same, was the “Assistant Director of Employee Assignment.” Handy, if you wanted to hire a crooked man to captain your crooked ship.

She wondered where Randolph Neil Paraden had ended up: somewhere in Newholme? The treasurer or something? Surely not; Fleet would have noticed that, too. The good news was that the ARCT-10 had shown up - or at least its message to Sector HQ had arrived. Severe damage from a cosmic storm (Sassinak quirked her lips: “investigating a cosmic storm” was a stupid sort of civilian idea. Space had enough hazards when you tried to play it safe), some (unlisted) casualties, but “no great loss of life.” Whatever that meant to a ship the size of most moons, with a normal shipboard population in the thousands in a variety of races.

They’d lost their FTL capability, and most of their communications, and spent nearly all the elapsed time hobbling toward a nearby system at well below lightspeed. No real hardship for those who lived their lifetimes on board anyway, but it must have been tough on the “temporary” specialists who’d expected to be home in six months.

And, of course, for the ones left behind on Ireta. Sassinak’s hand hesitated on the console. Should she call Kai now, or wait until tomorrow? She glanced at the time, and decided to wait. They’d be getting ready for that gathering she’d heard about, and perhaps by morning she’d have a list of casualties so that he could quit worrying (or start mourning) his family. And those children - their parents on the ship would be old, or dead, by now. She could and did call up Mazer Star to confirm that she’d received Fleet clearance for them.

“And you should receive some kind of official recognition,” she told Godheir. “There’s a category for civilian assistance. Depending on the tribunal outcome, it might even mean a cash bonus for you and your crew; certainly I’ll recommend it.”

“Ye don’t have to do that. Commander Sassinak ...” Captain Godheir’s screen image looked appropriately embarrassed.

“No, but you deserve it. Not just for your quick response, although it’s in everyone’s interest to encourage honest citizens to respond to mayday calls, but for your continued willingness to help the expedition. I know you aren’t designed to deal with youngsters recovering from that kind of trauma. And I know you and your crew have spent a lot of hours with them.”

“Well, they’re good kids, after all, and it’s not their fault. And no family with them.”

“Yes, well, I expect, with the Thek here, this will wrap up shortly, and you’ll be free to go. But you have my gratitude for your help.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t the pirate I thought you at first,” said Godheir, rubbing his head. “When you hailed us, that’s all I could think of.”

Sassinak grinned at him; she could imagine that having something like the Zaid-Dayan suddenly pop up behind him could have startled a peaceful transport captain. “I was just as glad to find that you weren’t an armed slaver escort. Oh, by the way, do you have as many dinosaur buffs as I seem to have brought along?”

“A few, yes. They’re convening at the main camp tonight, along with some of yours, I think.”

“That’s what I thought.”

His expression asked if she had a problem with that, and she didn’t, except to wonder if fanning the flames of the dinosaur enthusiasts had been such a good idea.

“I don’t expect any trouble from Captain Cruss, with the Thek nearby, but still - “

“I’m taking precautions. Commander,” he said quickly, not quite offended at her presumption. Sassinak nodded, glad he’d taken the hint, and willing to have him a little huffy with her. Better that than trouble in the night.

“I assumed you had, Captain Godheir,” she said. “But so many things aren’t going according to Regulations already ...” He smiled, again relaxed.

“Right you are, and we’ll be buttoned up tight. I’ll tell my crew not to overdo the hospitality juice, whatever it is and wherever it comes from.”

Dupaynil was waving at her from the corridor; Sassinak signed off, and turned to him.

“Captain, we got the homing capsule stripped,” he said happily. “And a fine bit of imaginative writing that was, let me tell you. Imaginative wiring, too. We’re still doing forensics on it. We’ve got surface deposit / erosion scans going, another seven hours on that, and there’s a new technique for analyzing biochemical residues, but basically we’ve got Cruss and Co. in a locked cell right now.”

“In order?” suggested Sassinak. Dupaynil nodded, and laid it all out for her.

“A fake, of course: a clever one, but a fake. First the homing capsule itself, which clearly shows the pitting and scarring one would expect from some four decades of space travel. Except where the propulsion unit and so on were removed - not by natural causes, either, but by tools available to any civilized world. Then roughed up to a pretense of the distressed natural surface.”

“Which tells you that the homing capsule went somewhere, then was broken apart, and returned - “

“Probably with Cruss in his ship, although not certainly. It might have been placed for him to find. Now the message . . . the message was clever, very clever. Ostensibly, it’s the message Cruss told you, the one he let us ‘copy’ from his computer. It’s not a long message, and it repeats six times.”

Dupaynil cocked his head, giving Sassinak the clear impression that he wanted her to guess what followed. “And then another message?” she prompted. “On the loop behind those?” “Precisely. I was sure the Commander would anticipate. Yes, after six boring repetitions, which any ordinary rescuer must have assumed would go on until the end, we found a sixty second delay - presumably the number of repetitions coded the length of the following delay - and then the real message. The location of Ireta; the genetic data of the surviving heavyworlders, including the planned breedings for several generations; a brief account of the local biology and geology; a list of special supplies needed; a recommendation for founding colony size. There are, as you would expect, no destination codes remaining. We cannot prove, from the message alone, who were its intended recipients. For that we await the physical evidence of the shell; it is just possible that its travels are, in a way, etched on its surface. But what they sent was an open invitation: this is who we are, where we are, and what we have. Come join us.”

Sassinak could think of no adequate comment. Proof indeed that the mutineers were intentional planet pirates. She took a long breath and let it out. Then: “Are you sure they intended it for heavyworlders exclusively?”

“Oh yes. The genetic types they asked for all code that way. Besides, I’ve now got the old Security data on the mutineers. Look, Separationists, but not Purists. All of them, at one time or another, were in one of two political or religious movements.”

“And no one spotted this beforehand?” She felt a rumble of anger that no one had noticed, and therefore people had died, and others had lost over forty years of their lives.

Dupaynil shrugged eloquently. “Exploration ships do not welcome Security, especially not Fleet Security. They insist that their specialists must have the freedom to investigate, to think for themselves. Of course I am not against that, but it makes it very hard to prevent the ‘chance’ connivance of those whose associations cause trouble.”

“Umm. I expect that Kai and Varian will visit again tomorrow, Dupaynil, and I would prefer to withhold this until we have the physical data - or until something else happens. At the rate things are going wild, something else may indeed make disclosure necessary.”

“I understand. When you’re ready for me to arrive with the discovery, just let me know.” He gave her a very Gallic wink, and withdrew to continue his investigations.

The next morning, Sassinak was glad that she had made it to bed at a reasonable hour: the Thek abruptly summoned her, Kai, Varian, and, to her surprise, the Iretans and Captain Cruss. She sent Ford with the pinnace to pick up the governors and Lunzie and recall any crew from the campsite.

Meanwhile, the outside pickups revealed that the Thek which had been positioned near cruiser and transport were now grouped at the far end of the landing grid. Sassinak studied the screen for a few moments, and turned away, baffled. What were they doing?

She ate breakfast and changed into a dress uniform without expressing any such confusion to the crew, though their bafflement was apparent to her. Halfway through a glass of porssfruit juice, something tickled her memory about Thek.

She’d seen something like this ... it came back in a rush. The dead world, the time she had gone down with a landing party, and the Thek had come. First a few had clustered like that, and then others had come and clumped into some kind of structure. She’d forgotten about it for years, because of that mess with Achael, but . . . “cathedral” was what someone had termed it, the special conference mode of the Thek. To which she was bidden.

Despite herself, Sassinak shivered, remembering that folk involved in a Thek conference often found themselves extremely obedient servants of its determinations. She promptly initiated a Discipline procedure so that she would remember all that transpired during that unique experience. Then grinned to herself. This could make a riveting recital the next time she needed something to enliven a dull evening at the Sector HQ Officers’ Club.

While she and most of the other “invited” guests went willingly through the one opening left by Theks fitting themselves into the immense structure. Captain Cruss did not. His boots dug grooves in the ground to show his unwillingness but inexorably he was brought into the cathedral and the last Thek clunked into place. Oddly enough, a curious ambient light provided illumination. Sassinak caught Aygar’s contemptuous look and turned away, only then noticing the collection of porous shards, a dull dark charcoal grey rather than the usual Thek obsidian, but patently a nearly disassembled Thek.

“Your core evidently bore strange fruit,” she said to Kai, keeping her voice low. “And if that is indeed a very ancient Thek, we ephemerals will have to revise some favorite theories . . . and some good jokes.”

“Commander,” Cruss cried, his heavy voice reverberating so loudly the others winced, “I demand an explanation of the outrageous treatment to which I have been subjected.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cruss,” Sassinak said, pivoting to him. “You know perfectly well the Thek are a law unto themselves. And you are now subject to that law, and about to sample its justice.”

“We have verified.” The words, intoned in a non-directional voice, opened the conference. “Ireta is for Thek as it has been for hundreds of millions of years. It will remain Thek. For these reasons ...”

With no apparent passage of time, Sassinak found herself leaning against Aygar. She needed to: she felt every second of her age in the steamy Iretan midday with its blazing sun beating down on them. Aygar clung to her for a moment more, obviously experiencing a similar disorientation. In the touch of his strong hands, she sensed that his earlier contempt for her had lessened. When he came out of his current shock, she expected he’d be a much more pleasant fellow.

Someone groaned. Sassinak blinked her eyes clear and saw Varian holding Kai upright. Cruss crouched on the ground in such an attitude of dejection that she could almost pity him. Almost, not quite.

In the meantime, she had had her orders. She had to get her marines, Weft and human, off that transport before Cruss woke up and lifted it off-world. Innocent or not, anyone on board at lift-off would have only one destination. That, the Thek had made quite clear. Trying to shake off the after-effects of that extraordinary experience and access the Discipline-retained memories, she let Ford and Lunzie shepherd them into the pinnace for the short hop back to the cruiser. But she couldn’t organize her thoughts beyond responding to the implanted instructions.

Once in her quarters she gave the necessary orders and then paused to catch her breath. The Thek had somehow compressed the very air inside their cathedral, enervating to the humans, and what she’d really have liked was a long quiet stretch of solitary meditation, to regain her own sense of space.

Half-bemused, and half-annoyed, she noticed that Lunzie was not so patient. Her Great-great-great prodded Ford into finding her liquor cabinet, poured drinks for everyone, and offered a toast “To the survivors!”

Sassinak drank, thinking to herself that Lunzie must have enjoyed that Sverulan brandy as much as it deserved, to be so eager to find more. Prior to the conference, Lunzie had buffered Kai and Varian and now she snapped them out of it. They burst into speech, and stopped as their voices clashed.

Sassinak chuckled. “Cruss took quite a beating.” Gingerly she touched her temples where a massive head-ache was gathering. “We all did.”

“Despite our clear consciences and pure hearts,” Varian added with a sly grin at Lunzie. Sassinak depressed the comunit button. “Pendelman, request Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil to join us. And didn’t we just get exactly the information we needed. Cruss spilled his guts. Not that I blame him.”

“Then you know who’s behind the piracy?” Lunzie asked, excited.

“Oh, yes. I’ll wait until Dupaynil gets here. Kai and Varian have been covered with glory, too. Which is only fair.”

Kai took up the narrative then, explaining that they had rescued a Thek who had been trapped for eons and buried so deeply it had been unable to summon help. Originally Ireta had been earmarked as a feeding ground with its rich transuranics so satisfying to Thek appetites, hence the cores. The Thek Ger had been guardian, to make certain young Thek did not strip the planet of its riches and leave it a barren husk.

“The Thek are the Others,” Lunzie gasped.

“That is the inescapable conclusion,” Sassinak agreed. “Thek are nothing if not logical. We were also exposed to quite a hunk of Thek history. I’ll joggle the rest out of my head later. The relevant fact is that it became apparent to the Thek after a millennium of gorging that, if they couldn’t curtail their appetites, they ran the risk of eating themselves out of the galaxy.”

“No wonder they had an affinity for dinosaurs,” Fordeliton exclaimed with a whoop of laughter.

“We get to preserve them now,” Varian said, rather proudly.

Kai grinned shyly. “Ireta is restricted, of course, as far as transuranics go but I, and my ‘ilk,’ as they put it, have the right to mine anything up to the transuranics for ... is it as long as ‘we’ live? I’m not sure if the limit is just for my lifetime.”

“No,” said Lunzie. “By ilk, the Thek probably mean the ARCT-10, for as long as it survives. You deserve it, Kai. You really do.”

“Curiously enough,” Sassinak said into the respectful pause that followed, “the Thek did appreciate the fact that you all have lost irreplaceable time. Thek justice is unusual.”

Thek had lumped all humans - the timelagged, the survivors, and the descendants - in one group as survivors. They could remain or leave as they chose.

“I wonder if some of the Iretans might consider enlisting in the Fleet,” Sassinak mused, thinking of Aygar. “Wefts are excellent guards but Ireta produced some superb physical types. Ford, do see if we can recruit a few.”

“And the surviving member of the original heavyworlder contingent?” Lunzie asked.

“Mutiny cannot be excused, nor the mutineer exonerated,” Sassinak answered, her expression stem. “He is to be taken back to Sector Headquarters to stand trial. The Thek were as adamant on that score as I am.”

“And Cruss is being sent back?” Ford asked.

Sassinak steepled her fingers, permitting herself a satisfied smile. “Not only sent back but earthed for good. Neither he, his crew, nor any of the passengers will ever leave their planet. Nor will that transport lift again.”

“The Thek do nothing by halves, do they?”

“They have been exercised, if you can imagine a Thek agitated,” Sassinak went on, getting to the real meat of the cathedral’s findings, “about the planetary piracies and patiently waiting for us to do something constructive about the problem. The intended rape of Ireta has forced them, with deep regret, to interfere.” Just then, Dupaynil entered. “On cue, for I have good news for you. Commander. Names, only one of which was familiar to me.” She beckoned the Intelligence officer to take a seat as she leaned forward to type information on the terminal. “Parehandri is so conveniently placed for this sort of operation ...”

“Inspector General Parehandri?” Fordeliton exclaimed shocked.

“The same.” Lunzie chuckled cynically. “It makes sense to have a conspirator placed high in Exploratory, Evaluation, and Colonization. He’d know exactly which planetary plums were ready to be plucked.”

Kai and Varian regarded her with stunned expressions.

“Who else, Sassinak?” Lunzie asked.

She looked up from the visual display with a smug smile. “The Sek of Formalhaut, Aidkisaga IX, is a Federation Councillor of Internal Affairs.” She noticed Lunzie’s startled reaction but went on when she saw Lunzie close her lips tightly. “One now understands just how his private fortune was accrued. Lutpostig appears to be the Governor of Diplo, a heavyworlder planet. How convenient! Paraden, it will not surprise you to discover, owns the company which supplied the grounded transport ship.”

“We could never have counted on uncovering duplicity at that level. Commander,” .was Dupaynil’s quiet assessment. He frowned slightly. “It strikes me as highly unusual for a man at Cruss’ level to know such names.”

“He didn’t,” Sassinak replied equably. “He was only vaguely aware that Commissioner Paraden was involved. The Thek extrapolated from what he could tell them of recruitment procedures, suppliers, and what they evidently extracted from the transport’s data banks.”

“But how can we use the information they obtained?” Dupaynil asked.

“With great caution, equal duplicity and superior cunning. Commander, and undoubtedly some long and ardent discussions with the Sector Intelligence Bureau. Fortunately, for my hypersuspicious nature, I’ve known Admiral Coromell for years and trust him implicitly ...”

“You know Admiral Coromell?” Lunzie asked, amazed.

“We are in the same fleet, dear ancestress. And knowing where to look for one’s culprits is more than half the battle, even those so highly placed.” Sassinak saw her thoughtful look and went on briskly. “I have been given sailing orders, too. So, Fordeliton, brush up on your eloquence and see whom you can recruit from among the Iretans. Kai, Varian, Lunzie, I’ll have Borander return you to your camp with any supplies you might need to tide you over until the ARCT-10 arrives. Just one more thing ...” and she swiveled her chair about, turning to the rank of cabinets behind her and opening one with a thumblock. She heard Lunzie’s sigh of satisfaction as the squatty little brandy bottles came into view.

“Clean glasses. Ford - I’ve a toast to propose.” And when all stood with their glasses ready, she expanded Lunzie’s brief presentation: “To the brave, ingenious, and honored survivors of this planet . . . including the dinosaurs.”

That got a smile from all of them, and a chuckle as the smooth brandy slid down. Revived by the brandy’s kick, Kai and Varian rose, eager to get back to their camp. The Thek decision had given them both a lot to look forward to, and plenty of work.

“Kai, Varian, you go on without me,” Lunzie said, surprising the co-leaders but not Sassinak. “I’d like a little while longer with this relative of mine.” She turned to Sassinak, a bit shy and stiff suddenly.

In the flurry of parting, Sassinak rather hoped she knew what might be coming. After all, Varian would have her animals to study; Kai would have his minerals to mine . . . what would Lunzie have? Nothing. She’d be picked up by the ARCT-10; she’d try to find a recertification course to bring her up to date in medicine, and then she’d hire out for something else. Not the sort of life Sassinak would want. Even if she’d been a doctor.

“Let’s eat here,” she said, as Kai and Varian, escorted by Ford, went off down the corridor. “It’s an awkward time for them in the messhall, right between shifts.”

“Oh. Fine.” Lunzie wandered around the office as Sassinak ordered the meal, looking at the pictures and the crystal fish. “That’s my favorite,” said Sassinak of the fish. “After the desk. This thing is my great hunk of self-indulgence.”

“Doesn’t seem to have hurt you much,” said Lunzie, with a bite to it.

Sassinak laughed. “I saw it fifteen years ago, saved for seven years. The place makes them one at a time and won’t start one on credit. They spent two years building it, and then for five years it sat in storage until I had a place to put it.”

“Umm.” Lunzie’s eyes slid across hers, then came back.

“As near as I can make it, that Thek conference lasted four and a half hours,” Sassinak said, running her finger around her damp collar. She’d loosen it once lunch had been served. Right now she had to loosen up Lunzie. She held up the bottle. “Wouldn’t you recommend another shot. Doctor Mespil. Purely medicinal, of course.”

“If this old fool can prescribe a similar dose for herself?” Lunzie’s smile was little more natural as Sassinak filled both their glasses with a generous tot.

“Thanks.”

Before they’d finished savoring the brandy, two stewards brought trays heaped with food: thinly sliced sandwiches, two bowls of soup, bowls of fried delicacies, fresh fruit obviously bartered from the Iretans.

Lunzie shook her head. “You Fleet people! And I always thought a military life in space was austere!”

“It can be.” Sassinak tasted her soup and nodded. Another one of her favorite cook’s creative successes. The stewards smiled and withdrew. Now Sassinak loosened her tunic. “There are certain . . . mmm . . . perks that come with rank and age.”

“Mostly rank, I’d guess. I’m happy for you, Sass, you seem to have earned a lot of respect, and you’re clearly suited to your life.”

For some reason this made Sassinak vaguely uneasy. “Well ... I like it. Always have. It’s not all this pleasant, of course.”

“No? Have you seen combat often?”

“Often enough. Cruise before this one, we were boarded. Someone even took a potshot at me.”

That caught Lunzie with her spoon stopped halfway to her mouth, and she put it down safely in the soup before asking more.

“Boarded? I didn’t know that happened in ... I mean, a Fleet cruiser?”

“That’s exactly the reaction of the Board of Inquiry. It seemed like a good idea at the time, though, Lunzie.” Far from being upset by her great-great-great as a listener, Sassinak discovered a certain catharsis easing tension, almost as beneficial as medication. And just the thread of a new thought, bearing on the information the Thek had extracted. “My Exec had a shipload of slaves to get out of that system ASAP.” She told Lunzie the whole story, backing and filling as necessary.

“And you’d been a slave . . . you knew ...” Lunzie murmured softly.

There was more understanding in that tone than Sassinak could well stand; she changed the subject again, surprised to find herself mentioning another problem.

“Yes, and as for crew loyalty, by and large you’re right. But not entirely. For instance,” and Sassinak leaned back in her chair, regarding her guest with a measuring glance, “right now, I’m fairly sure that we have an informer aboard: someone in the pay of any one of those prestigious names we’ve been made privy to. Dupaynil and I have scanned and dissected the records of everyone on board and it hasn’t done us a bit of good. We can’t find tampering or inconsistencies or service lapses. But we have got a saboteur. My crew ‘re all starting to suspect each other. You can imagine what that does to morale!” Lunzie nodded, eyes sharpening. “The timid ones came to me, wanting me, of all things, to arrest our heavyworlders. As if heavyworlders were the Jonahs.” She noticed Lunzie’s startled expression. “And the next thing will be some political movement or other. There has to be a way to find the rotter, but I confess I’m stymied. And I particularly want the bugger found before any hint of what we’ve discovered here on Ireta can possibly leak.”

Lunzie began peeling a fruit, letting the rind curl below her fingers. “Would you like me to look through the files - the unclassified stuff, I mean? Maybe an outside eye? Sort of singing for my lunch, as it were?”

“Singing for your lunch?”

“Never mind. If you don’t trust an outsider ...”

“Oh, I trust you - gods below, my own great-great-great-grandmother.” Sassinak caught herself on the rim of a hiccup, and decided that she was the least bit cozy from the brandy. “You could look through my bottom drawers if you wanted. But what can you find that Dupaynil and I haven’t found?”

“I dunno. But being older ought to do some good, if being younger can’t.”

At this, they locked glances and giggled. Fresh eyes, Lunzie’s eyes, made no sense, and very good sense, and they were both more relaxed than necessary. Two hours later, poring over the personnel files, they had sobered but were no nearer solving Sassinak’s problem.

“I didn’t think you needed this many people to run a cruiser,” said Lunzie severely. “It would be easier to check a smaller crew.”

“Part of that great life I have as a cruiser captain.”

“Right. One more engineering technician, grade E-4, and I’m going to ...” Suddenly she paused, and frowned. “Hold it! Who’s this?”

Sassinak called up the same record on her own screen. “Prosser, V. Tagin. He’s all right; I’ve checked him out, and so has Dupaynil.” She glanced again at the now-familiar file. Planet of origin: Colony Makstein-VII, so -  matotype: height range 1.7 - 2 meters, weight range 60 - 100 kg, eye color: blue/gray, skin: red/yellow/black ratio 1:1:1, type fair, hair type: straight, fine, light-brown to yellow to gray. Longheaded, narrow pelvis, 80% chance missing upper outer incisors. She screened Prosser’s holo, and saw a 1.9 meter, 75-kilogram male with gray eyes in a longish pale face under straight fine, fair hair. By his dental chart, he was missing the upper outer incisors, and his blood type matched. “There’s nothing off in his file, and he’s well-within the genetic index description. His eyes are too close together, but that’s not a breach of Security. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s impossible, that’s what.”

“Why?”

Lunzie looked across at her, a completely serious look. “Did you ever hear of clone colonies?”

“Clone colonies?” Sassinak stared at her blankly. She had neither heard of such a thing nor seen a reference to it. “What’s a clone colony?”

“What databases do you have onboard? Medical, I mean? I want to check something.” Lunzie had gone tense suddenly, alert, almost vibrating with what she wouldn’t explain - yet.

“Medical? Ask Mayerd. If that’s not enough, I can even get you access to Fleet HQ by FTL link.”

“I’ll ask Mayerd. They were talking about covering it up, and if they did - “ Lunzie didn’t go on; Sassinak didn’t push her. Time enough.

Lunzie was on the internal corn, talking to Mayerd about medical databases, literature searches, and specific medical journals, in a slang Sassinak could hardly follow. “What do you mean. Essentials of Cell Reference isn’t publishing? Oh - well, that’s a stupid reason to change titles . . . Well, try Bioethics Quarterly, out of Amperan University Press, probably volume 73 to 77 . . . nothing? Ceiver and Petruss were the authors . . . Old Mackelsey was the editor then, a real demon on stuff like this. Of course I’m sure of my reference: as far as I’m concerned it was maybe two years ago.” Finally she clicked off and looked at Sass, a combination of smugness and concern. “You’ve got a big problem, great-great-great-granddaughter, bigger than you thought.”

“Oh? I need any more?”

“Worse than one saboteur. Someone’s been wiping files. Not just your files. All files.”

“What exactly do you mean?” It was the first time she’d used her command voice in Lunzie’s presence and she was glad to see that it was effective. It didn’t, she noticed, scare Lunzie, but it did get a straight answer out of her.

“You never heard of clone colonies, nor has Mayerd who ought to have. I was a student on an Ethics Board concerning such a colony.” Lunzie paused just a moment before continuing. “Some bright researchers had decided that it would be a possibility to have an entire colony sharing one genome: one colony made up exclusively of clones.”

“But that can’t work,” Sassinak said, recalling what she knew of human genetics. “They’d inbreed, and besides you need different abilities, mixtures ...”

Lunzie nodded. “Humans are generalists. Early human societies had no specialization except sexual. You can’t build a large, complicated society that way, but a specialized colony, maybe. They thought they could. Anyway, in terms of the genetic engineering needed for certain environments, it would be a lot cheaper to engineer one, and then clone, even given the expense of cloning. And once they’d cleared the generation-limit problem, and figured out how to insert the other sex without changing anything else, it would be stable. If you know there are no dangerous recessives, then inbreeding won’t cause trouble. Inbreeding merely raises the probability that, if such harmful genes exist, they will combine. If they don’t exist, they can’t combine.”

“I see. But I’m not sure I believe.”

“Wise. The Ethics team didn’t either. Because I’d been around, so to speak, when that first colony was set up and because I’d worked in occupational fields, I had the chance to give an opinion on the ethical and practical implications. One of a panel of two hundred or so. We saw the clones, well, holos of them, and the research reports. I thought the project was dangerous, to both the clones and to everyone else. For one thing, in the kind of environment the clones were designed for, I thought random mutations would be far more frequent than the project suggested. Others thought the clones should be protected: the project had a fierce security rating anyway, but apparently it went a step further and all references were wiped.”

“What does that have to do with Prosser, V. Tagin?”

Lunzie looked almost disgusted, then relented. “Sassinak, that colony was on Makstein VII. Everyone in it - everyone had the same genome and the same appearance. Exactly the same appearance. I saw holos of members of that colony. Your Mr. Prosser is not one of the clones, though he’s been given the somatypes.”

“Given?”

“The Index entries were written to cover the appearance of the clones should any of them travel, while indicating a range of values as if they were from a limited but normal colonial gene pool. His somatype has been faked, Sassinak. That’s why you didn’t catch it. No one would, who didn’t know about clone colonies in general and Makstein VII in particular. And you couldn’t find out because it’s not in the files anymore.”

“But someone knows,” said Sassinak, hardly breathing for the thought of it. “Someone knew to fake his ID that way. ...”

“I wonder if your clever Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil could ask Mr. Prosser where he actually does come from?” Lunzie said in a drawl as she examined her fingertips, a mannerism which made Sassinak blink for it was much her own.

She keyed in Dupaynil’s office and when he acknowledged, she sent him the spurious ID they’d uncovered. “Detain,” was all she said but she knew Dupaynil would understand. “Great-great-great-grandmother,” she said silkily, well pleased, “you’re far too smart to stay in civilian medicine.”

“Are you offering me a job?” The tone was meek, but the sharp glance belied it.

“Not a job exactly,” Sassinak began. “A new career, a mid-life change, just right for fresh eyes that see with old knowledge that has somehow got lost for us who need it.” Lunzie raised an inquiring eyebrow but her expression was alert, not skeptical. Sassinak went on with mounting enthusiasm, building on that little inkling she’d had before lunch. “Listen up, great-great. Do you realize what you have, to replace what you think you’ve lost? Files in your head, accessible facts that weren’t wiped . . . and who knows how many more than just references to a prohibited colony!”

The old clone colony trick works only once, great-great.”

“Let’s not put arbitrary limits to what you have in your skull, revered ancestress. The old clone colony trick may not be all you’ve saved behind your fresh old eyes. You’ve got an immediate access to things forty-three and even a hundred and five years old which to me are either lost in datafiles or completely unknown. And this planetary piracy’s been going on a long, long time by either of our standards.” She saw the leap of interest in Lunzie’s eyes and then the filming of old, sadder memories before the new hope replaced them. “I’m not offering you a job, old dear, I’m declaring you a team member, a refined intelligence that those planet hungry moneygrubbing ratguts could never expect to have ranged against them. How could they? A family team with almost the same time-in-service of say, the Paradens ...”

“Yes, the Paradens,” and Lunzie sounded very grim. Then her thin lips curved into a smile that lit up her eyes. “A team? A planet pirate breaking team. I probably do know more than one useful thing. You’re a commander, with a ship at your disposal...”

“Which is supposed to be hunting these planet pirates ...”

“You’re Fleet and you can ask certain questions and get certain information. But I’m,” and Lunzie swelled with self-pride, “a nobody, no big family, no fortune, no connections - bar my present elegant company - and they don’t need to know that. Yes, esteemed descendant, I accept your offer of a team action.”

Sassinak had just picked up the brandy bottle to charge their glasses when a loud thump on the bulkhead and raised voices indicated some disturbance. Sassinak rolled her eyes at Lunzie and went to see what it was.

Aygar was poised on the balls of his feet just outside her office, with two marines denying him entry.

“Sorry about the noise, captain,” said one of them. “He wants to speak to you and we told him ...”

“You said,” Aygar burst out to Sassinak, “that as members of FSP, we had privileges ...”

“Interrupting my work isn’t one of them,” said Sassinak crisply. She felt a discreet tug on her sleeve. “However, I’ve a few moments to spare right now,” and she dismissed the marines.

Aygar came into her office with slightly less swagger than usual. If he ever dropped that halfsulk of his, Sassinak thought he’d be extremely presentable. He didn’t have the gross heavyworlder appearance. He could, in fact if he mended his attitude, be taken as just a very well developed normal human type. He’d fill out a marine uniform very well indeed. And fill in other places.

“Did Major Currald recruit you?”

“He’s trying,” and that unexpected humor of Aygar flashed through again.

“I thought you intended to remain on Ireta, to protect all your hard work,” Lunzie said in the mild sort of voice that Sassinak would use to elicit information. But she had a gleam in her eye as she regarded the handsome young Iretan that Sassinak also instantly recognized. It surprised her for a moment.

“I ... I thought I wanted to stay,” he said slowly, “if Ireta was going to remain our world. But it’s not. And there are hundreds of worlds out there ...”

“Which you could certainly visit as a marine.” Sassinak sweetened her tone and added a smile. Two could play this game and she wasn’t about to let her great-great- great-grandmother outmaneuver her in her own office.

Aygar regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I’ve also had an earful of the sort of prejudice heavyworlders face.”

“My friend, if you act friendly and well behaved, people will like a young man as well favored as you,” Sassinak said, ignoring Lunzie. “Life on Ireta and out of high-g environment has done you a favor. You look normal, although I’d wager that you’d withstand high-g stress better than most. Act friendly and most people will accept you with no qualms. Swagger around threatening them with your strength or size, and people will react with fear and hatred.” Sassinak shrugged. “You’re smart enough to catch on to that. You’d make an admirable marine.”

Aygar cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “I think I can do better than that. Commander. I’m not about to settle for second best. Not again. I want the chance to learn. That’s a privilege in the FSP, too, I understand. I want to learn what they didn’t and wouldn’t teach us. They consistently lied to us.” Anger flashed in his eyes, a carefully contained anger that fascinated Sassinak for she hadn’t expected such depths to this young man. “And they kept us ignorant!” That rankled the deepest. Sassinak could almost bless the cautious, paranoid mutineers for that blunder. “Because we,” and when Aygar jabbed, his thumb into his chest he meant all of his generations, “were not meant to have a part of this planet at all!”

“No,” Sassinak said, suddenly recalling another snippet of information gleaned from the cathedral’s Thekian homily, “you weren’t.”

“In fact,” Lunzie began, in a voice as sweet as her descendant’s, “you’ve a score to settle with the planet pirates, too. With the heavyworlders who sent Cruss and that transport ship.”

Aygar shot the medic such a keen look that Sassinak damned her own lapse - that’d teach her to look at the exterior of a man and forget what made him tick.

“You might say I do at that,” he replied in much too mild a tone.

“In that case,” Sassinak said, glancing for approval at Lunzie, “I think we could actually take you on as a ... mmm . . . special advisor?”

“I’ve just signed on in a similar capacity,” Lunzie said when she saw Aygar hesitate. “Special duties. Special training.”

“Not in the usual chain of command,” Sassinak gave him a look that had melted scores of junior officers.

“And who do I have to take orders from?” he asked, looking from Sassinak to Lunzie with the blandest of expressions on his handsome face.

“I’m still the captain,” Sassinak said firmly, with a glare for her great-great-great-grandmother, who only grinned.

“You may be a lightweight, captain, but I think I can endure it,” he said in a drawl, holding her gaze with his twinkling eyes.

“Welcome aboard, specialist Aygar!” And Sassinak extended her hand to take his in a firm shake of commitment.

Lunzie chuckled wickedly. “I think this is going to be a most ...” her pause was pregnant “... instructive voyage, granddaughter. Shall we toss for it?”

Just for a moment, Aygar looked from one to the other, with the expression of someone who suspects he hasn’t quite caught a hidden meaning.

“We specialists should stick together,” she added, offering him a glass of the amber brandy. “You’ll drink to that, won’t you. Commander?”

‘That, and other things! Like ‘down with planet piracy!’ “ She pinned Lunzie with a meaningful stare, wondering just what she’d got herself in for this trip.

“Hear, hear!” Lunzie lustily agreed.

 

 

BOOK ONE