Crisis On Doona (10 page)

“How long have we been friends?” Hrriss said, speaking in the Low Hrruban of a familial group. “We have trusted you since you were able to ride a Hunt.”

“Before that,” Todd replied in the same vein.

Two Human women passed them, carrying a huge basket of bread between them. Hrriss looked about cautiously before replying, and glanced at Todd for permission. He and Todd had discussed the matter and decided that Kelly had to be told what had happened. With her connections in Alreldep, she’d have access to offices and ranking officials that they did not.

“Unfortunately we have perhaps precipitated an event which would ssserve Spacedep’s purpose well, though we do not yet know who is responsible for engineering it.”

Kelly’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

“This is confidential, you understand,” Todd said, still in Low Hrruban, which would make what he said unintelligible to many. Kelly grinned at his tactic and nodded for him to continue. “On the way back from Hrretha, we received a Mayday signal, coming from an uninhabited, interdicted world,” Todd went on, twisting his shoulders at their naivete. “We responded to the call, only to discover that it was coming from a beacon drone. We found no trace of radiation or ion drive to tell where the ship that dropped it came from. Anyone passing that way could have heard the Mayday, but unluckily it was us.”

“The fact remains that we crossed into a forbidden zone for no purpose,” Hrriss finished, his purring voice low.

“But you’d have the log record of the Mayday ...” Kelly began.

“We nearly didn’t,” Todd replied sourly. “A slight malfunction ...”

“Corrected by a kick,” Hrriss said, grinning.

“In the holographic recorder,” Todd finished.

“Loose circuit?” Kelly asked, even as she wondered why she was trying to find logical explanations of the malfunction.

“More likely”
—
Todd managed a fine approximation of an Hrruban growl
—
“it got
over
serviced
when the Hrrethan space station insisted on being
sure
the
Albatross
was in perfect working order.”

“Even though we assured them that our own people had serviced it before we started out,” Hrriss added, letting one claw escape its sheath.

“So no idea who put the drone out there?” Kelly asked, knowing the answer even before Hrriss shook his head.

“There were others who would make their second warp jump at those particular coordinates,” Hrriss said, “but everyone knew we were anxious to return speedily to Rrala.”

“So it was set up to catch you two.” Her remark was more statement than question.

“That’s the most logical assumption,” Todd said, “in the present circumstances, but we
have
a recording of that Mayday, which I don’t think we were supposed to have.”

“And you let Hrriss do all the talking, didn’t you?” Kelly asked briskly, and looked relieved when both nodded. Then her shoulders sagged. “But it’s just the sort of incident Spacedep would contrive, an unnecessary breach of the Treaty and by a Doonan.”

“And a Hrruban!” Hrriss reminded her.

She did
not
like the inferences that even an idiot could draw, let alone an anti-Doona faction. “Who else knows about this?”

“Our fathers,” Hrriss said, “Hrrestan and Rrev. It was decided to defer the matter until after the Hunt.”

“Sensible. No one on Doona’d let you escape your Hunt responsibilities,” Kelly said, and then to insert some levity into the conversation, “including me. And,” she added more brightly, “since this is Doona, you’ll be believed. It’s on Earth that I wouldn’t give a cracked egg for your chances. If we can only limit the incident to Doona
—
once the visitors have left and can’t get their noses into something as juicy as an interdiction breach.”

“In any case, I’m the one at fault,” Todd said in his characteristic forthright manner. “I was piloting the ship, and I insisted that we respond to the Mayday, even if it meant passing an interdiction buoy. It’s serious but it oughtn’t to damage the Doonan Treaty.”

“Hear him. He would have us suffer even before being found guilty,” Hrriss said wryly, nudging Todd in the ribs with the back of his hand. “First it must be proved to the Treaty Council that we acted out of malice. If sanctity of life cannot supersede borders and barriers, then we may not call ourselves civilized.”

“Well, let’s not borrow trouble from tomorrow, huh?” Kelly said, cocking her head at them. “I’m not without resources, you know. Just let me know when to call in favors, and where, and you know I’ll do it.” Then, seeing a swarm of guests crowding into the Hall, she reverted to Standard. “It’s party time, lads,” she said, rising to her feet, giving her skirts a practiced flirt. “And I intend to party!”

* * *

Since by tradition and Treaty, there was no hotel, guests were assigned space in the old plastic cabins of the original village. Many visitors found them a diverting change from the usual sterile accommodations. The more prestigious were billeted with Doonan host families, and the overflow used canvas tenting shelters. However, Doonans, Hayuman and Hrruban alike, provided visitors with Friendly Native Guides to keep them company and, more important, to show them the dangerous vegetation and keep them from unexpectedly rousing the ferocious bearlike mda. Such individual contacts with those from other worlds had improved good opinions of Doona over the past twenty-five years.

This year, the Shihs, Phyllis and Hu, leader of the First Human Village, were pleased to have the honor of hosting the Fifth Speaker, the Hrruban Minister for Health and Medicine. The Hrruban’s stripe was noticeably broader and his mane was whitening around his face, but he was solemnly kind to all who approached to greet him. He caught Todd’s eye and smiled. They had met on Hrretha only a few weeks before. Most likely, the venerable Hrruban was still seeing the small boy dressed in mda fur with a rope tail tied around his waist instead of a grown man in normal Earth-style tunic and trousers. Responding to that memory himself, Todd straightened his tunic and squared his shoulders as the Speaker and Hu neared him.

“A fine Hunt, and, it would seem, a fine party to come,” Hu Shih complimented Todd, reaching up to pat the young man on the shoulder, and nodding amiably to Hrriss. The venerable metropologist’s eyes were shining as he took in the decorations and the happy crowd filling the Hall. “No Hunters with more than scrapes and bruises and”
—
Hu’s eyes twinkled
—
“depressed ambitions. Very well done, indeed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Todd said, politely dropping into Middle Hrruban, since the Fifth Speaker was here in a social capacity. “Have you heard about the Boncyk sows?”

“Indeed we have,” Hu Shih replied, his usually composed face becoming wreathed with laughter.

“The tale will return with me to Hrruba,” the Fifth Speaker replied, his deep black eyes sparkling. “It is, of course, the greatest pity that the scene was not recorded, but the various narrators seem to agree on so many details that the truth will not suffer much in the retelling.”

“We are considering the addition of a Sow Brigade to next year’s Hunt,” Todd went on, dropping his jaw in a Hrruban-style grin.

He saw Hu’s start of surprise but the Fifth Speaker grumbled his throat chuckle and Hu relaxed. Todd had always been on special terms with Hrruban Speakers and could dare where protocol would have strictly forbidden such banter. Todd was not surprised when Hu deftly eased the Speaker toward the dais and the special chairs where the elders would observe the proceedings.

“I will expect a full report of their performance next year, Zodd,” the Speaker said, allowing himself to be shepherded away.

The Ad Hoc Band began to play incidental music, loud enough to be heard through the low roar of conversation but not loud enough to drown it.

Todd looked around for Ali Kiachif, one of the oldest friends of the colony and its most faithful proponent. The swarthy, drink-loving old Codep captain had missed few New Home Weeks since the beginning, attending anytime he could arrange his schedule to be there. He wasn’t in the Hall yet, and Todd couldn’t remember having heard anyone mention that he’d arrived. Todd was a little disappointed, but he could well understand it if Kiachif wasn’t able to make it back to Doona. Kiachif was a busy man these days. His rounds had grown a hundredfold since the colony’s inception, and had earned him a small fleet of ships serving under him, plying the expanding spaceways, carrying cargo and passengers. Doona was still one of his favorite stops. He always claimed it rested his eyes from the sometimes horrific conditions on mining planets, which far outnumbered the agricultural planets, where people lived in miserable conditions in the stale air of domes or in the unremitting toil of prison facilities. While he never mentioned Doonan grog, everyone knew that it was more to his taste than methylated spirits cooked over a Bunsen burner.

In their festive best, everyone looked cheerfully ready to enjoy themselves to the fullest. The threat of being overrun by the great snakes had once again been averted. In the true spirit of Doona, some of the native Humans wore Hrruban dress, and some of the Hrrubans affected “Trran” trousers, skirts, or dresses. The various diplomats were attired more formally but not repressively so, while their young wards and the other guests were dressed in the latest styles from Earth or Hrruba. Evidently the fashion industries of both cultures had been stimulated by the contact, and styles had merged, mingled, and then evolved to become highly individualistic.

Oddly enough, though most Terrans still spoke in murmurs, their clothes shouted in the most vivid of shades, enhanced by additives that caused iridescence and luminosity, sometimes rather shocking to the eye. Todd felt almost conservative in the green casual trousers and darker green silk shirt sent to him by his sister Ilsa. She had gone back to Earth for higher education and had married a man she met at school. Byron worked as a consultant to Spacedep, so he was occasionally on Doona to visit the Treaty Island, as he was for the Hunt. He was a fair stickman, playing his turn with the band, bobbing his head to the rhythm as he beat the drum skins. He threw a sideways grin toward Todd.

“There’s Hrringa,” Kelly said, smiling at a tall, almost chestnut-maned Hrruban in crisp formal attire. “I’m glad they sent someone down to spell him at the Hrruban Center. He’d have hated to miss the fun.” Todd nodded to the catman, who was serving a term as the transportation grid operator in the Hrruban consulate on Earth. Hrringa was a member of Hrriss’s clan. Though his friend never made much of it, his family was of a fairly broad Stripe.

“They always do. He was on Team Ten in the Hunt, you know. Did you see much of each other?” Todd asked Kelly.

“Quite a lot. Most people on Earth don’t speak the language, so I’m sort of a tie to home. So few people realize that he speaks fluent Terran: and there are always those who try to talk pidgin Hrruban with him.” She rolled her eyes at such an insult to her friend. “Then there’s the opposite extreme with those silly men in Amalgamated Worlds Administration treating him as some sort of sacred shaman.”

Hrriss made a noise like a snort. “What do you expect from them?”

Kelly’s expression turned sheepish. “I tried to wangle a ride home through the grid instead of flying out,” she admitted. “Hrringa would have obliged me, I know, but they don’t like us junior types to use the grid when the senior diplomats can’t get access anytime they want to. They waved me off. It was no use my explaining that Hrringa and I were raised together, or that I had a right to go to Doona.” She clicked her tongue regretfully. “Well, I’d better go be a good hostess. My mother said if I wasn’t on the front line shaking hands ...” She left the threat unspoken, with a broad grin to show she knew it wasn’t serious. “I’ll find you later, Todd. Keep your ears open.”

“You, too.” Todd blinked as Kelly was swallowed up immediately by the swirling crowd. He couldn’t believe how fast the Hall had filled up. He looked at Hrriss, who was also looking a bit dazed.

“We were so intent, we were not paying attention,” the Hrruban said. “Meanwhile, the party has created itself.”

“Yeah.” Todd craned his neck for one last look at the girl. “Kelly looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

“Her grace is one with her beauty,” Hrriss said approvingly. “Come, Team Leader, we have other duties even as she does.”

Young men and women warily carried full trays of drinks and nibble snacks past them into the main room. As the kitchen doors swung to and fro, Hrriss and Todd caught sight of Mrrva. Hrriss’s mother could be seen standing over a huge simmering pot with a spoon to her lips, tasting the contents for spice. Mrrva held the Hrruban equivalent of five college degrees in physical health science, and was director of the Rralan Health Services, but she also enjoyed the simple tasks of hospitality that entertaining on Doona required. Her eyes widened when she saw her son and Todd enter.

“Go out therrre,” she ordered, pointing with her spoon toward the doorway. “Why are you here? We do not need help from such as you. The Masters of the Hunt should mingle with guests, not serve like cubs and youths.”

“But, Mrrva ...” Todd began, his voice wheedling as he edged toward some of her famous pastries.

She slapped his hand with her spoon and immediately threw him a cloth to clean off the sticky liquid.

“You will be served in due courssse,” Mrrva said in a tone which brooked no further discussion. She made a sound between a hiss and a growl. “When will we ever put the manners of a man and Master on you, Zodd!” Then she turned on Hrriss. “I know you have been taught. Go now and exercise the teaching.”

Abashed, the two returned to the Hall. Leading the Hunt had been a pleasure. Hosting the party was a chore they would gladly have missed. The throng had swelled to hundreds in the great room. Todd passed among them, shaking hands and returning kisses. While on the one hand he was glad to see the friends that reappeared year after year, on the other, there was never any time to catch up on any details
—
of their success in the Hunt let alone what they’d been doing the past year
—
before someone else claimed attention.