Ancestor's World (24 page)

" We of the clan Digs Well

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will work furiously. We will make daily devotions to Father Earth, but we will not abandon the study of our Ancestors to favor today's People--those impatient to catch up with the technology of the Sky Infidels."

Beloran lowered to a dark-eyed squat. "My piety is unimpeachable," he muttered.

A long silence ruled the conference table.

Gordon noticed Mahree trying to get his attention. "Ambassador? You would like to comment?"

"Yes, I would." Mahree stood and bowed once to each Na-Dina, ending up with Beloran. The alien's ears flattened, as if Mahree's attention was not something he welcomed. "Esteemed Liaison, I will be returning to Spirit shortly, to consult with Krillen of the Law, to check with our freighter captain, and to give a full report to the Council of Elders on the smuggler attack." She paused. Gordon wondered why Mahree's statement seemed to make the Liaison even more nervous.

"But I will add to my Council report the immensity of the task faced by Gordon's people. I will be fair, but"-- Beloran's ears lowered even more--"but in a matter of ethics, Doctor Mitchell must follow his professional standards.

And if we are to honor the Revered Ancestors by studying their remains and their ruins, isn't it best to discover the entire picture?" Mahree paused as Pokeel and Axum fluttered their ears in emphatic agreement. "After all, we would not want to arouse Father's Anger by showing poor devotion to those who sleep within his chambers." Beloran sank into a low, low squat. "I do not wish to be the cause of impiety to Father Earth."

Gordon grinned. Mahree had turned her sojourn with Krillen into a telling argument with the officious Beloran. Like Maoist-era China with its disastrous Great Leap Forward program, the urban Na-Dina who belonged to the Modernist faction believed themselves infallible, their decisions without error.

He nodded at Mahree as she sat down. "Excellent point, Ambassador. Uh, could you put in a request to Krillen for

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the release of our camp jumpjet? It's still out at the mesa, under his Evidence Hold."

"Of course. But could you come with me and make the request yourself?

Nordlund is diverting a jumpjet to take me to Spirit. It'll be here at midday."

She faced him squarely, barely showing a hint of a wry smile. "Interested?"

Gordon was definitely interested, though the idea of spending hours alone with Mahree aroused conflicting feelings in him. On one hand he desired nothing more than time to be with her, to talk to her, to learn to know her better. On the other... he knew that with every day that passed, he was getting in deeper. His profound attraction to her scared him, even as it excited him.

Now he met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "Sure," he said.

"Sounds like a good plan. Let's finish this conference, and we'll talk later."

He turned back to Greyshine. "Professor, what's your plan for dig crews?"

The Heeyoon resumed his presentation. On the screen, a section of the orthographic map enlarged. "The initial work of two crews will include one temple city, four farming villages, thirteen prehistoric base camps, a Royal Granary, the commoner burial grounds located near the Third Cataract, and whatever else they find."

Gordon rubbed his chin. "And the other four crews?" Greyshine flipped through a series of enlargements. "Axum's crew stays here at the City of White Stone to cover the Highland Canyon stratum. A second crew will work the Upper Canyon Stratum downstream, a third the Lower Canyon area just upriver from the dam, and a fourth will handle the Mid-Lower Canyon area."

The Heeyoon settled back onto his cushion.

Across the table, Natual raised a hand. "Professor, do you have any estimates on the amount of faunal remains we can expect to receive?"

"How many?" Greyshine seemed almost weary. "In Earth's past, a group similar to ours spent eight years excavating the ruins of Anasazi Indians at the Dolores River Valley, in the state of Colorado, in OldAm. That group 174

found about fourteen hundred sites in a large valley also set to be flooded by a dam." The Heeyoon's expression showed open sympathy. "In eight years they dug one hundred sixty sites and recovered four million artifacts, ranging from a Great Kiva down to stone chips left over from tool- sharpening. You ask how many faunal remains?" The Heeyoon's amber eyes looked to Gordon, then back to Natual. "Prepare for a half million."

"A half million?" Natual fell back into his chair.

Gordon understood the younger alien's dismay. The Drnian had never before dealt with a project of this size.

The Esteemed Lorezzzs, their Project Ceramicist, lifted her triangular head.

"Professor, your estimate for ceramics?"

"Two million, from whole pots to shards."

And so it went, from specialty to specialty.

As Gordon sat back in his chair, Mahree caught his eye. She shook her head slowly, her expression supportive. He appreciated her understanding. He suspected her work with the interstellar diplomatic corps of the CLS was the closest approximation to the research program he was responsible for.

He found himself looking forward to being alone with her. Was there any chance she felt the same way? All he could do was hope that she did....

On board the rising Nordlund jumpjet, Mahree watched as Gordon stored his overnight bag behind the seat that faced hers. She wondered when he'd notice the great view visible through the side window.

She'd been a bit surprised to find that the jet diverted by Nordlund was the one dedicated to the Project Engineer, who'd refitted the craft with pale brown carpets, overstuffed recliner seats, two couches, a wet bar, an in-flight kitchen, a tub bath, and even a bedroom at the rear of the craft. It was one more sign of the massive financial investment Nordlund had made on Ancestor's World. Why? Why invest so much money up front? The drill-mining sites in the

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Mountains of Faith would not yield commercial quantities of ore for another year or more. If then.

Up front, the Nordlund pilot pushed aside the drape blocking her view of the pilot cabin. He offered Mahree his best professional smile. "Ambassador Burroughs," he called. "Would you and Doctor Mitchell mind if I took the long way to Spirit? Along the river?"

The pilot's smooth manner and calm air of authority might go over well with the Project Engineer, but she found it irritating. Mahree looked to her guest, who watched her as attentively as any Na-Dina. "Gordon?"

He turned in his seat to glance back at the pilot. "Captain McAllister, is it?"

The man nodded rather patronizingly. Gordon smiled tightly. "That sounds fine with me, Captain. Guess you'd like to show off the dam site, huh?"

"Yes." Captain McAllister's deep-tanned face tensed, but the smile held. "It's a perfect opportunity to get an aerial overview of the diversion dam, the main axis trench excavation, and the diversion tunnel. They're making the river diversion today." The pilot showed perfect teeth. "We could see a real gusher as the river changes course." Gordon looked back to her, his eyebrows lifting. "Mahree?"

After Professor Greyshine's sobering report, she had all too good an idea of what the Nordlund engineers and earth- movers were doing to the River of Life. But she was obligated to learn their side of the situation. She nodded.

"Sure. It's not every day you see a three-kilometer-wide river shoved off its course and forced through a tunnel." Captain McAllister's smile wavered.

"But, ma'am, that's the only way we can excavate down to bedrock. So we can get the best footing for the earthfill of the dam."

Gordon turned back to the pilot. "Captain, please do take the long way to Spirit. The river route. Why don't you call us on the intercom when we arrive at the dam?"

McAllister nodded and vanished without another word. Gordon turned around in his seat, touched the recliner arm-control, and lifted his eyebrows again. "Do you mind if I rest my boots on the lounge table?"

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Mahree felt bemused. "Gordon, if there's one thing I've noticed since coming to camp, you always put your boots atop any place you wish. Of course. Go ahead." She smiled to convince him she was only teasing.

He returned the smile. Then he put his boots on the table between them, his manner that of a small boy getting away with something. "Thanks. I think best when my boots are propped up on something."

She grew serious. "No, I must thank you. And this is the first chance I've gotten. For saving my life in the vault. Thank you."

"Hey ..." His eyes met hers. Their gazes locked and held. "Any time. I've never gotten the chance to save a fair lady before." He gave her a boyish, lopsided grin that made her heart turn over. "Though it was a shame to ruin that time lock."

Mahree felt herself blushing, as she realized he meant what he said. For a moment she thought he might lean across the table and touch her--and she wanted him to, she discovered, frightened by the strength of her own reaction. But he didn't.

Instead he looked away, out the window. "Fantastic view, isn't it?"

She eyed his boots, resting atop the small wooden table. Her gaze ran up his long legs to his narrow hips, then to his khaki-shirted chest. A dark tan showed at his neck and on his arms, where he'd rolled up his sleeves. His squarish face had been freshly shaved. And his sun-streaked hair lay in fresh-combed sandy curls. But the squint lines around his light eyes seemed tense. As if he were aware of her examination.

"There you go, changing the subject," she teased, realizing that she was flirting--and that she was enjoying it. She hadn't felt so alive in years. "What were you real y going to say?"

His cheeks hollowed a bit, then he faced her, and it was obvious that he was not having fun. She sensed pain, and confusion. "Mahree... I'm starting to feel that...

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maybe..He floundered for a second, then rallied. "That you're a very special woman. To me."

She found that she couldn't think of anything to say to that. As she mulled over possible replies, Gordon looked up, his manner veiled once more. "Did you ever wonder why Nordlund is investing so damned much venture capital in such a longshot contract?"

Mahree licked her lips. "I was wondering. This jumpjet is rather luxurious."

He scowled, then glanced aside, staring darkly out the window. "Yeah. But these appointments are petty funding to Nordlund. The big money is three years' worth of construction crew salaries, several freighter fulls of earthmoving equipment, at least three full-size drill-mining rigs, and prefab accommodations for over six hundred alien and human workers." Gordon looked back to her, his manner professional. "Ambassador, no company invests that kind of venture capital without some damned good reason. And Nordlund ain't in the trade of 'lift up our poor brethren on far stars.' "

"I agree."

He inspected her now, looking from her boots up her bare legs to her shorts, her belt holster with pulse-gun snugged into it, then on up to her lime-green blouse, her neck--her eyes.

She blinked. "So. What riches abound on this planet? Other than arky ruins?"

Gordon grinned sardonically. "You're right. This is a gold mine for my career.

But even I'm small chips to Nord- blund." His mood sobered. "They've got enough money to buy lots of help. Including local help. What do you think?

Did Axum shut you in the vault?"

She broke eye contact to look out the window. Long kilometers below, the cobalt River of Life undulated over sand bars, around sandstone cliffs and over rapids, tracing a series of S-curves east to the horizon. It was midday, and Ancestor's World shone like a brass lamp, the only green lying in narrow strips along the river course.

Mahree turned back to Gordon. "I should suspect her,

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after what happened. After all, she's a Na-Dina, and Krillen and I found evidence that a Na-Dina was aboard Bill's jet, during--and after--it landed."

With each word, his face grew more grim.

"And a Na-Dina closed the vault door on me the other night. So"--she looked down at his scuffed boots--"tell me why I shouldn't suspect Axum."

The boots did not move. Finally, he sighed. "I like her. I trust her. She's never betrayed me, or done anything other than what I asked."

Mahree looked up, seeing new pain in his hazel eyes. "That's all? Her story about following the Long-Neck; that doesn't sound weak to you?"

Gordon crossed rough-knuckled hands over his waist, covering the turquoise belt buckle he wore. He lifted sandy eyebrows. "Sounds dumb, doesn't it? Yeah, she could have doubled back on Khuharkk', climbed down to the Camp, locked you in, and gone back up to the mesa. I don't believe she did. Otherwise, why call for digging help from her Clan? Why would she take my side against Beloran?" He lifted his hands, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on them, staring curiously at her. "I just trust her. Do you?"

Mahree sighed her relief. "Yes, I do. I wondered if I was crazy to do it, after all that's happened. If so, I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"You aren't. But, Mahree... I wish to hell so many people didn't have reason to want you--and the CLS oversight that you represent--out of the way."

Gordon counted on his fingers. "First there's Nordlund. Then there are the Modernists, especially Beloran. Then there are the smugglers. You have too many enemies, my dear."

She heard the endearment, and wondered if he'd meant it, or if it was just a figure of speech. "Gordon, besides helping with my report to the Council of Elders, I could use your assistance another way."

"Oh? How?" He watched her very directly.

Facing him steadily, she said, "The jumpjet out at the murder site. I'm sure we can get it released, after I talk to

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Krillen, but I also want to borrow the ship's shuttle from the S.V. Emerald Scales. I don't want to offend the Na- Dina by flying it myself, so... would you be my shuttle pilot?"

He relaxed. "Of course. That will give us two long-range transports at Base Camp, including one that can make orbit." Gordon paused. "You're concerned the smugglers might return?"