The Mystery of Ireta Read online

  “Well, now, it’ll be good to get away from the board. I haven’t done any field work yet on this expedition,” said Gaber, pressing closed his jumpsuit fastenings. He reached for the recording unit and tape blanks which he distributed in leg pouches.

  His tone was so much brighter and less foreboding that Kai wondered if he’d been unfair to keep the man continually in the dome. Could that be why Gaber had come up with the astounding notion that they’d been planted? Too little action narrowed perceptions.

  But Gaber, as witness his laxity over the belt, was so narding absent-minded that he was more of a liability than the youngest youngster in the landing party. As Kai recalled, Gaber’s credentials rated him as ship-bred, having made only four expeditions in his six decades. This would likely be the last if Kai made an honest report of his efficiency. Unless, the insidious thought plagued Kai, they had indeed been planted. Better than most leaders, Kai knew how undermining such a rumor could be. Yes, it would be better to keep Gaber so fully occupied that he had no time for reflection.

  Kai did, however, have to remind Gaber to strap himself into the sled seat, which the cartographer did with profuse apologies, while Kai checked the sled’s controls and energy levels.

  “I do wish I’d been born a Thek,” Gaber said. “To live long enough to watch the evolution of a world. Ah, what an opportunity!”

  Kai chuckled. “If they’re not too involved with thinking to look around in time.”

  “They never forget a thing they’ve seen or heard.”

  “How could one tell? It takes a year to carry on any sort of a dialogue with an Elder.”

  “You young people can only think of quick returns. Not end results. It’s the end result that counts. Over the course of my years on ARCT-10, I’ve had many meaningful chats with Theks. The older ones, of course.”

  “Chats? How long a lag between sentences?”

  “Oh, not long. We’d scheduled replies on a once-a-ship-week basis. I found it extremely stimulating to formulate the most information in the fewest phrases.”

  “Oh, I’ll grant the Theks are past masters at the telling phrase.”

  “Why, even a single word can have unusual significance when uttered by a Thek,” Gaber went on with unexpected volubility, “When you can appreciate fully that each Thek holds within its brain the total knowledge of its own forebears, and can distill this infinite wisdom in single succinct words or phrases . . .”

  “No perspective . . .” Kai was concentrating on lifting the sled out of the compound.

  “I beg your pardon?” Gaber’s apology was more of a reprimand.

  “Their wisdom is Thek wisdom and is not readily applicable to our human conditions.”

  “I never implied that it was. Or should be.” Gaber was distinctly annoyed with Kai.

  “No, but wisdom should be relevant. Knowledge is something else, but not necessarily distilled from wisdom.”

  “My dear Kai, they understand reality, not just the illusion of a very brief and transitory lifespan such as ours.”

  The telltale, as sensitive to thermal readings as to movement of any object larger than a man’s fist, rattled, informing the two men that they were passing over living creatures, at that moment hidden from their eyes by the thick vegetation. The rattle turned into a purr as the sensitive recorder indicated that the life form had already been tagged with the telltale indelible paint with which the various scouting teams marked any beast they observed.

  “Life form . . . no telltale,” exclaimed Gaber as the rattle occurred after a short interval of silence.

  Kai altered his course in the direction of the cartographer’s finger. “And moving from us at a fast rate.” Gaber leaned across to the windboard to check the telltagger, nodding to Kai to indicate it was ready and set.

  “Maybe it’s one of those predators Varian’s been trying to catch,” Kai said. “Herbivores go about in groups. Hang on, there’s a break in the jungle ahead of us. It can’t possibly swerve.”

  “You’re directly over it,” Gaber said, his voice rough with excitement.

  Both beast and airborne sled reached the small clearing simultaneously. But, as if it recognized the danger of an open space with an unknown enemy above it, the beast was a bare flash, a stretched and running, mottled body, ending in a stiffly held long tail—all the retinal afterimage Kai retained.

  “Got it!” Gaber’s triumphant yell meant the creature had been telltagged. “I’ve film on it, too. The speed of the thing!”

  “I think it’s one of Varian’s predators.”

  “I don’t believe herbivores are capable of such bursts of speed. Why, it outdistanced this sled.” Gaber sounded amazed. “Are we following it?”

  “Not today. But it’s tagged. Enter the grid coordinates, will you, Gaber? Varian’s sure to want to come look-see. That’s one of the first predators we’ve been able to telltag. Luck, sheer luck, coming over that clearing.”

  Kai veered back to his original course, slightly north, toward the first body of water that Berru had sighted.

  It ought to be near the inland sea which was shown on the satellite pictures. Reality, thought Kai echoing Gaber. The original satellite photos had been theoretical, in one sense, since they’d had to be shot through the ever-present cloud cover; while Kai, by flying over the depicted terrain, encountered reality, the direct experience. Kai could appreciate the essence of Gaber’s comment: what an incredible experience it would be to watch this planet evolve, to see the land masses tortured and rent by quake, shift, fault, deformation and fold. He sighed. In his mind, he speeded up the process like the quickly flipped frames of single-exposure prints. It was hard for short-lived man to comprehend the millions of years, the billions of days that it took to form continents, mountains, rivers, valleys. And clever as a geophysicist might be in predicting change, such realities as geophysics had been able to observe in its not so lengthy history always exceeded projections.

  Gaber’s life instrument beeped constantly now, and with no counter-burr from the telltale they diverted again, this time to tag a large herd of tree-eaters.

  “Don’t recall pics of monsters like that before,” Kai told Gaber as they circled round the creatures, now partially visible through the sparse forest cover. “I want to get a good look. Set the camera and the telltale, Gaber. I’m coming around. Hang on.”

  Kai turned the air sled, braking speed as he matched the forward motion of the lumbering beasts. “Scorch it, but they’re the biggest things I’ve seen yet!”

  “Keep up,” Gaber cried in nervous excitement, for Kai was skimming very low. “Those necks are powerful.” The beasts had very long necks, mounted on massive shoulders which were supported by legs the size of tree stumps.

  “Necks may be powerful but the brains aren’t,” said Kai. “And their reaction time is double slow.” The beasts were looking back toward the direction from which Kai had first approached them. Several had not even registered the aliens’ appearance at all but continued to strip trees as they passed. “Gigantic herbivores, foraging even as they move. They must account for half a forest a day.”

  One of the long-necked creatures neatly bit off the crown of a cycad and continued its slumbering progress with huge fronds dripping from its not too capacious mouth. A smaller member of the herd obligingly took up one trailing frond and munched on that.

  “Heading toward the water?” Kai asked, impressed as well as appalled by the dimensions of the animals. He heard the tagger spit.

  “There does seem to be a well-traveled lane through the vegetation. I tagged most of them.” Gaber patted the muzzle of the tag gun.

  Kai tilted the sled so he could observe the beasts. Ahead, and down a long incline, lay the shimmering waters of one of Berru’s lakes. Kai took the transparency of the probe print and laid it over the replica of the scale map which Gaber had been patiently drawing from the data of Kai’s teams.

  “We should have the precipice on our right, Gaber. Adjust your
face mask to distance vision and see if you can spot it.”

  Gaber peered steadily across the distance. “Cloudy, but you ought to change course by about five degrees.”

  They flew over terrain that gradually became more and more swamplike until water replaced land entirely. At this point a definite shoreline appeared, rising first into small cliffs of well-weathered gray stone which gave way to sheer cliffs rising several hundred meters in an ancient transform fault. Kai ascended and the passage of the sled alarmed cliff dwellers into flight, bringing an exclamation of surprised delight from Gaber.

  “Why, they’re golden! And furred!”

  Kai, remembering the vicious heads of the scavengers, veered hastily from their flight path.

  “They’re following us,” noted Gaber, unperturbed.

  Kai glanced over his shoulder. As far as he knew, scavengers attacked only the dying or dead. Judiciously he applied more airspeed. The sled could easily outdistance them.

  “They’re still following us.”

  Kai shot a glance over his shoulder. No question of it, the golden avians were following but maintaining a discreet distance, and different levels. Even as Kai watched, the fliers changed positions, as if each wanted to see various aspects of the intruder. Again Kai loaded on more speed. So did the fliers, without apparently expending much effort.

  “I wonder how fast they do fly?”

  “Are they dangerous, do you suppose?” asked Gaber.

  “Possibly, but I’d say that this sled is too big for them to attack, singly or with the numbers they have behind us now. I must bring Varian to see them. And tell the Ryxi.”

  “Why ever tell them? They couldn’t fly in this heavy atmosphere.”

  “No, but Vrl asked me about Ireta’s aerial life. I’d hate to tell him there were only scavengers.”

  “Oh, yes, quite. I agree. Merciful gods, look below to your left.”

  They were well over the water now, stained red by the mineral content of the rocks which bordered it and its watershed. Clearly visible was the plant-strewn bottom which shelved off slightly into murky brownness and considerable depth, according to Kai’s instrumentation. From out of that depth a great body torpedoed, responding to a shadow cast by the sled. Kai had a startled impression of a blunt head, gray-blue shining skin, and too many rows of sharp yellow-white teeth, needle sharp. He heard Gaber’s startled cry of horror. Instinctively he slammed on the emergency drive. And corrected hurriedly as they sped uncomfortably close to the curving cliffs.

  Looking back, Kai saw only the rippling circles of the monster’s exit and entry on the surface, circles converging together over the twenty-five meters of its jump. He gulped and swallowed against a dryness in his throat. As if that attack had been a signal, more aquatic denizens leapt and dove, and other battles began under and on the surface of the water.

  “I think,” Gaber’s stammer was pronounced, “that we started something.”

  “Well, they can finish it,” said Kai as he turned the blunt nose of the sled.

  “The golden fliers are still following us,” Gaber said after a few moments. “They’re closing.”

  Kai spared a backward glance and saw the first rank of fliers moving steadily abreast of the sled, their heads turned toward him and Gaber.

  “Go away,” Gaber said, standing up and waving both arms at the birds. “Go away. Don’t get too close. You’ll get hurt!”

  Half-amused, half-concerned, Kai watched the creatures swing away from Gaber’s flapping. They also maintained their forward speed and their inspection.

  “We’re surrounded by them, Kai.” Gaber’s tone took on a worried note.

  “If they were dangerous, they’ve had plenty of time to attack, I think. But let’s just lose the escort. Sit down, Gaber, and hang on!” Kai hit the jet accelerator again, and abruptly left the fliers in the heat haze as the sled flung itself forward. There couldn’t have been any expression on the golden faces, but Kai had the distinct impression that they’d been astonished by the sudden speed.

  He must ask Varian what degree of intelligence was possible in these apparently primitive life forms. The Ryxi were not the only winged species in the galaxy but very few avian species were highly intelligent. Capability seemed to have a direct ratio to the amount of time spent on the ground.

  Whatever life form would eventually dominate on this planet was still thousands of years away from emerging. That didn’t keep Kai from wishful thinking and speculation. It would be nice to see the Ryxi superseded.

  “Did you get some good tapes of them?” Kai asked Gaber as he reduced speed to cruising. No use wasting more power than necessary.

  “Oh yes, indeed I did,” Gaber said, patting the recorder. “You know, Kai, I think they showed considerable intelligence.” He sounded astonished.

  “We’ll get Varian to give an opinion. She’s the expert.” Kai turned the sled to the coordinates of the nearest echo core. Varian might have some biological puzzles but he now had another geological one.

  Despite what he said so nonchalantly to Gaber, the unexpected materialization of those cores unnerved him. True, this planet and the system had been in the computer bank, but surely there would have been some indication if it had already been surveyed. A previous survey, however, would account for the lack of ore deposit on these old mountains. The first party would certainly have mined the shield area, and quite likely whatever other likely land mass, or seas, had been workable; land which had long since been rolled under in subsequent plate activity. Why, though, had there been no such notation in the computer banks?

  To set them down on a totally unexplored planet was unlike any previous knowledge Kai had of EEC. So Gaber’s theory of planting the expedition returned to haunt his thoughts. EV had waited for their all-safe-down and conveniently disappeared in search of that storm. But what about the youngsters—more of an afterthought as members of the expedition than planned personnel. Above all else was the urgent need of the transuranics. Between the kids and the energy, Kai was certain he could discount Gaber’s gloomy presentiment.

  Even with the ability to pinpoint the exact location of the faintly signaling core, it took Gaber and Kai some hard slogging through dense and dangerous sword plants and some heavy digging to pull it from its site.

  “Why, why, it looks like the ones we have,” said Gaber in surprise that was almost outrage.

  “No,” said Kai, turning the device thoughtfully in his hand, “the case is fatter, the crystal dimmer, and it feels old.”

  “How can a core feel old? Why, the casing isn’t so much as scratched, or dull!”

  “Heft it yourself. It feels old,” said Kai with a touch of impatience, and he was somewhat amused to see Gaber hesitantly examine the old core, and quickly hand it back.

  “The Theks manufacture them, don’t they?” the cartographer said, giving Kai a sideways look.

  “They have done so, but I think . . . Gaber, it won’t wash.”

  “But don’t you see, Kai? The Theks know this planet has been surveyed. They’re back for some reason of their own. You know how they like to watchdog a likely colony . . .”

  “Gaber!” Kai wanted to shake the older man, shake him out of his asinine and dangerous notion that the expedition had been planted. But, as he stared at the man’s eager, intense face, Kai realized how pathetic the cartographer was. Gaber must surely know this would be his last mission and was vainly hoping to extend it. “Gaber!” Kai gave the man a little shake, smiling kindly. “Now, I do appreciate your confiding your theory to me. You’ve done just as you should. And I appreciate the facts on which you base the notion, but please don’t go telling anyone else. I’d hate giving the heavy-worlders any excuse to ridicule one of my team.”

  “Ridicule?” Gaber was startled and indignant.

  “I’m afraid so, Gaber. The purpose of this expedition was too clearly set out in the original program. This is just an ordinary energy-resource expedition, with a bit of xenobiology thrown
in as practice for Varian, and to keep the heavy-worlders fit and the youngsters occupied while the EV chases that cosmic storm. Just to reassure you, though, I’ll query EV about your theory in my next report. If, by some remote chance, you’re correct, they’d tell us. Now we’re down. In the meantime, I really do advise you to keep your theory between us, huh, Gaber? I value you as our cartographer too highly to want you mocked by the heavy-worlders.”

  “Mocked?”

  “They do like their little jokes on us light-gravs. I don’t want them to have one on you. We’ve a laugh for them, all right—on the Theks—with this!” Kai held up the core. “Our rocky friends are not so infallible after all. Not that I blame them for forgetting all about this planet, considering how it smells.”

  “The heavy-worlders would make me a joke?” Gaber was having difficulty in accepting the possibility, but Kai was certain he’d found the proper deterrent to keep the man from spreading that insidious rumor.

  “Under the present circumstances, yes, if you came out with that notion. As I mentioned, we have the youngsters with us. You don’t really think the third officer of EV is planting her son?”

  “No, no, she wouldn’t do that.” Gaber’s expression changed from distressed to irritated. “You’re right. She’d’ve opposed it.” Gaber straightened his shoulders. “You’ve eased my mind, Kai. I hadn’t really liked the idea of being planted: I’ve left research unfinished and I only accepted this assignment to try and get a fresh perspective on it . . .”

  “Good man.” Kai clapped the cartographer on the shoulder and turned him back toward the sled.

  It occurred to Kai that he’d have all the arguments to press again once Gaber, and the others, learned that the EV had not picked up the secondary reports. He’d worry about that when the time came. Right now he had more to ponder in the ancient core in his hand. He didn’t think they had any apparatus in the shuttle for dating the device. He couldn’t remember if it had ever come up in discussions how long one of these cores could function. Portegin was the man to ask. And wouldn’t he be amazed at what his malfunctioning screen was recording?