For Love and Glory

XXXV

As they entered the compound, she saw him surprised. He must have been too little interested, or too busy with his exploitive business, to learn more about this undertaking than the fact of its existence.

A stockade, erected to keep animals out and serve as a windbreak during storms, enclosed a dozen buildings. Some were living quarters, some for storage or utility, one a laboratory. All were cylindrical in shape, built of rocks and hard-dried mud, roofed with sod. Chimneys showed that several contained fireplaces. Doors and fittings were wood, supplemented by sauroid leather; windowframes held glass, unclear, obviously made by amateurs from sand.

“Judas priest!” Hebo exclaimed. “How much labor went into this?”

Lissa didn’t recognize his phrase, doubtless archaic. Yes, he’d have wanted to keep many memories from his first youth. “Quite a lot,” she replied. “Less will in future. We’re learning as we work.”

“When you could have assembled readymade shelters? We make them, you know.”

“Yes. Just as you’ve made most of the buildings and utilities on New Halla. A main purpose of this expedition to the mainland is to find out what can be done with native resources—and I don’t mean clear-cutting whole forests or poisoning the waters with tailings from mines.”

“Huh? Do you suppose, once your precious Susaians start breeding and expanding in earnest, they won’t need an industrial base?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “The wise ones, like Orichalc, want to find ways that won’t gut the planet. Besides the direct damage Venusberg is doing, it’s sapping the incentive for such an effort.”

“You mean we provide them with what they need, low-cost and now, instead of standing back and leaving them in poverty for the sake of some future Never-Never Land —” He broke off. “Well, I’m not saying they shouldn’t make inventions of their own. How does this adobe withstand the kind of rain you get?”

They’d gotten off on the wrong foot again, she thought. It hurt worse than she might have expected. But maybe he felt the same, and was trying to change the subject. “The Susaians experimented under Uldor’s direction. They found that the local soil needs only water, a little added gravel, and some hours kept dry, to set like concrete,” she answered almost eagerly. “You noticed the surface of the airstrip, didn’t you?” With relief: “Here we are.”

She led him into the hut that was hers. He peered around, but in the gloom saw little of her personal things before she had taken up her pack. They were few anyway: pictures of her kinfolk and the Windholm estates; a player and numerous cartridges of books, shows, music; a sketch pad and assorted pencils; a flute. The rest was equipment.

Emerging, they found the Susaian had likewise returned. “Not many,” Hebo remarked.

“Most are in the field, investigating,” Lissa told him. “These are busy with lab studies or chores.”

“What were you yourself doing before the, uh, incident?”

“I’ve hardly begun here, I want to help. No lack of opportunities. I was taking a party of canoers along the Harmony River. Teaching them how. This work is still mostly exploratory, research and development, but it’s beginning to assume an instructional function as well.”

He smiled. How attractive he became, all at once. “Then you received the call about an emergency, and the flyer took you off and brought you to that scene. What about your tenderfeet?”

“I left them on an islet in midstream. They’ll be all right for a few days, if air transport is pre-empted that long. I can even hope they’ll learn something by themselves.”

It was as if he couldn’t keep from taunting: “The better to occupy the continents later, and breed lots of young to overrun them, huh?”

Coppergold and Stargleam approached, saving her from making an angry retort. “Are you certain you do not wish any of us to accompany you, honored one?” the botanist asked.

“Thank you, no,” Lissa replied. “My new companion claims expertise. No harm should threaten me, and we can move faster if we’re alone.”

“We are most grateful, benevolent one,” said Stargleam to Hebo.

The man grinned. “Customer relations.” Lissa wasn’t sure the trans could render that. Best if not. The Susaians did look a bit puzzled.

“Come,” she said, and walked away fast. They must be sensing the tension between her and him. It would worry them.

Silent, the humans proceeded back to the flyer, stowed her pack, and settled down side by side at the front. “Do you have the coordinates?” she inquired.

“The autopilot has them. Up in the foothills of the Sawtooth, right? We aren’t all of us tunnel-vision moneygrubbers in Venusberg, whatever you suppose.” His finger stabbed the control board. Power whirred.

And again I’ve blundered, she thought. Not that he’s altogether undeserving of it. “Apologies. No offense meant. I’m anxious, you see, tired, overwrought.”

“Then shouldn’t you have rested before we go, or sent somebody else?” His tone had smoothed. “That would have to be a Susaian, I imagine, but why not?”

She shook her head. “I dare not delay. Orichalc can come to grief at any instant. He was on New Halla till lately and has had time to learn virtually nothing about wilderness survival. Besides, under the circumstances, I think I may be the only person of either species on this planet who could find him.”

If that can be done at all, she thought. The trail is already cold.

They gained altitude and bore east. The ocean, the curving shoreline slipped from view. Below them reached another sea, ruddy-brown, the crowns of trees in their millions, from horizon to horizon and beyond. Wind made great slow billows over it. Here and there gleamed a lake or the meandering thread of a river. A marsh passed beneath vision, nearly hidden by antlike forms, browsing animals that in reality were huge. Often a flock of winged creatures, thousands strong, scudded above the forest. Far ahead, cloud banks towered beneath an opalescent sky. Air conditioning made the cabin blessedly cool.

“Well—” In almost Susaian wise, Lissa felt how Hebo tried to veil skepticism. “This, uh, Orichalc, I gather he’s important?”

“Why, yes. I thought you’d remember. It was a sensation, six years ago. How he led us to those black holes about to collide, at risk of his life, such a scientific prize that my House was glad to award him the island he asked for.”

“Oh, that one? Of course. I’d forgotten the name, that’s all. Asborg may be just a quick flit away, but we on Freydis, we’re preoccupied—isolated—” He drew breath for an explanation he’d have to make sooner or later. “And, to tell the truth, Dzesi and I lie as low as we can. You must’ve heard Venusberg is a joint stock corporation. That’s a front. Forty-nine percent of the shares are held by her Trek back on Rikha, where the nominal president is, and we two have the rest. That’s how come you didn’t know I was even on Freydis. You’d have had to search databases of forgotten news items to discover it.”

“Why the secrecy? Doesn’t seem like you.”

“To keep journalists and other pests off our tails and out from under our feet.”

Insufficient reason, she thought. He’s holding back something. But what, and why?

The Venusberg operations may not be advertised, but they aren’t hidden. I wish I could say outright that what I learned about them when I came home was what brought me here, dismayed, indignant, hoping I can make such a position for myself among the Susaians that I can get something done to curb the destruction.

No. Not now. I can’t afford a quarrel. Yet.

She swallowed. “Well, I’m grateful you came out of hiding to help.”

He gave her a glance. His tone mildened anew. “Orichalc means a lot to you, plain to see. After what you went through together in space.”

“And our correspondence and meetings since then. Any life matters, of course, but his more than most. They revere him on New Halla. His words, his leadership may make all the difference in what happens during the next few centuries. He came to the mainland to learn for himself, in hands-on detail, what’s being accomplished there and now. The whole idea, which the Old Truth itself promotes, is not to destroy the natural environment but to fit into it.”

“As if you could do that without causing an upheaval’s worth of changes.” Hebo sighed. “Hey, I don’t want a fight, But could I ask you to study some history? Pioneers, voortrekkers, yeah, they do your minimalist, economical sort of thing. They haven’t the means to do more. But after them come the farmers, the miners, the cities, the factories—and that’s the end of anything you could call nature.”

“We’ve kept Asborg green.” Mostly.

“Domesticated,” he snorted. “Manicured. What virgin growth and wildlife you’ve got are in carefully managed reserves. Anyway, the case is completely different on Freydis, and you know it.”

At the aircraft’s speed, they were already beyond the coastal plain. Ground rose in swells and ridges, still densely overgrown but with lighter-hued foliage and frequent shrubby openings. Rainclouds shrouded the Sawtooths themselves and spilled westward beneath the high permanent overcast.

After a silence too full of the thrum and whine of their passage, Hebo said, “I’ve got to admit the problem today isn’t clear to me. All I was told, in the hurry everybody was in, was that a camp had been attacked by predators, several persons were hurt, including the human leader, and one was missing. Your Susaian friend, it turns out. Doesn’t he have his radio bracelet on?”

“Radio collar,” Lynn corrected. “No, but that wasn’t due to carelessness. The trouble was unforeseen—unforeseeable. The Susaians were familiar only with New Halla, an island, and getting some acquaintance with part of the continental seaboard. Uldor had worked in the highlands, and deemed the time ripe to start exploring and experimenting there. In many respects, he said, they might prove to be the best site for the first mainland colony.”

Hebo nodded. She hurried on: “Orichalc went along to observe. The Susaian leaders need to know how these efforts are conducted. Uldor’s party was conveyed to a suitable spot and left to itself. The first couple of days went to settling in. Then everybody relaxed last night, before commencing their studies. They held a party to celebrate. Perfectly sober, Old Truth believers don’t use recreational drugs of any kind, and Uldor might have a single well-watered shot of whiskey if he’s feeling expansive. They saw no need to post a watch when they went to sleep, but did. In short, they took every precaution.

“A little before daybreak, a pack of silent-running large carnivores entered the camp. As dark as the night was and as fast as they moved, the lookout doesn’t seem to have been aware of anything till they were almost on her, and then probably only through her emotional sense. We don’t know; she barely had time to cry out before being torn apart. The creatures ran wild, blood-frenzied. Uldor and a couple of others had kept loaded firearms handy, and shot several, two fatally, but fangs slashed them nevertheless. After a horrible battle in the dark, the beasts retreated and our people called the base. We evacuated them. You know the rest.”

“No, I don’t,” Hebo said. “What sort of beasts? You say dead ones were there to look at.”

“Lycosauroids. I asked Forholt for data, and they identified them from my transmission, and were astounded. None had ever been seen this far north. Why should Uldor provide against them? Getting struck by lightning seemed more probable.”

“Hm.” Hebo rubbed his chin. “Did some weird set of chances take a single pack hundreds of klicks from its hunting grounds? Or is this an early sign of an ecological fluctuation? The ceratodon herds do seem to be declining in the southern range, and that’s the principal lyco prey. …”

His almost scientific language bemused Lissa. It was she who must say: “Such problems can wait. No, I take that back. It can well be a very practical question. Another deadly stunt pulled by a world never really meant for us.”

But just homelike enough to draw us into its snares, she thought. If Susaian and Freydisan and Terran life didn’t happen to be biochemically similar, able to provide nourishment of sorts for each other, none of us would have dreamed of any such ventures here as ours.

“Or for anybody,” Hebo said sardonically. “Not that I object, understand. I’m in business because of it. But I have wondered what’s eating the settlers, to take all this risk and hardship.”

“An ideal.”

“Yeah, an ideology.” He sounded contemptuous.

She shook her head. “Nothing so simple. Susaians aren’t completely alien to us. Look back at human history. You’ll find any number of parallels to this. You know”—whether or not you understand—“how the Old Truth people have needed a place of their own. Discriminated against on the Susaian worlds, even persecuted, for centuries—though their standards of honesty, industry, all-around decency put most of our race to shame—”

He laughed. “Quite the little idealist yourself, aren’t you?”

She wouldn’t let the gibe sting. She wouldn’t. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to preach. When I got home, my father told me how he’d had to explain things over and over to Asborgans who knew practically nothing and cared less about the subject till suddenly they heard they were getting nonhuman next-door neighbors. I guess that affected me.”

He turned his eyes back to the ruggedness rising ahead. “Okay. What’s become of this Orichalc?”

“The Susaians remove their transceivers when safely on the base or in camp,” she told him. “You can well imagine a collar around the neck is uncomfortable in this climate, not like a bracelet, their wrists are too thin and flexible for that. Most are unarmed, and when the beasts attacked, naturally they fled every which way. Trees in the immediate vicinity aren’t climbable, mingled thornbark and flexy. When the attack was repulsed and first light came, those who could made their way back. Searchers quickly found the injured, and three more dead, and brought them in. Except for Orichalc. He was gone. Some comrades beat the bush—within a narrow radius, as difficult as that was—and when we arrived in our flyer, we scanned from above before returning. Not a trace.

“I wanted to stay and commence hunting on the ground, but that would have been crazy to do by myself. Also, Uldor and a couple of the Susaians urgently needed further attention, which I was best able to give. So I called Forholt, and… you were good enough to come.”

“Could the reason that Orichalc didn’t show up be that he’s dead?” the man asked bluntly.

She swallowed. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

“Can we?”

“We can give it a damn good try.” Lissa arranged her words with care before she uttered them: “I do need a partner, someone who knows that kind of region. I’ve gained a certain familiarity with both lowlands and highlands from my past visits, though not these particular hills. Uldor had some, which is why he led that expedition, but Uldor’s disabled. So I called for such a helper, and you came.”

“If you’re a stranger to the area, what can you hope to do?”

“I have my ideas. You’ll see.”

He was silent a while before he said, “Look, I’ve never been in just these parts myself. The lycos would have caught me off balance too. I can’t guarantee nothing else will.”

Blast, she thought, he infuriates me, and then turns right around and charms. I wish he’d make up his mind. “Nor I. Another reason not to hare off alone. Uh, I was going to check your gear.”

“I thought you meant to heed the voice of experience.”

I’ve flicked him again. To chaos with it. “This mission is special. You’ve never had anybody lost, have you? Not with their bracelets.”

“Did you ever, on your expeditions elsewhere?”

Is he implying incompetence? “Natives, a couple of times. And it baffles me how your outfit imagines it can learn much about wildlife without old-fashioned tracking and stalking.”

She unharnessed and wriggled into the rear of the flyer. Cramped, she carried out her inspection slowly, unconscious at first of thinking aloud: “—clothes serviceable, but one change is ample, we won’t be gone long.… Rifle, by all means. I’ll leave my pistol but keep my machete. If those creatures are still loping around, I’d as soon we didn’t become part of the ecology.… Rations, yes, we can’t take time to live off the country.… Cookware, no, unnecessary weight, we’ll eat cold food.… Tent? M-m, more weight and bulk, but goes up faster than making a shelter. We’ll give it a try. …”

She returned to her seat. The aircraft slanted downward. “Kind of high-handed, aren’t you?” Hebo said. As if he never was. “Be warned, in case I have doubts about your judgment, we’ll follow mine.”

“Oh.” Beneath the frostiness, she felt shaken. There had to be a boss. It was a bad oversight of hers, not to have made clear at the outset who that would be. Haste and anxiety were a poor excuse. “I reserve my right to disagree. But we can’t squabble now. I trust you’ll listen to reason.”

“The same for you!”