Drowning World (11 page)

Stationed on the periphery of Taulau Town, the two humans had spent months shedding water without engaging in anything more strenuous than popping a few predators that had tried to climb from the water below up into the trees. Suddenly faced with a small but unprecedented crisis, they reacted with admirable speed. Erla unlimbered her own gun while Nilsson activated his before speaking into the communicator pickup of his duty suit.

“Central, this is Twenty-three. Corporal Nilsson speaking.” He squinted through the rain at the thoroughly terrified Deyzara and the pursuing Sakuntala. “We have some kind of an incident in progress here. There appear to be—”

Central dispatch interrupted him. The voice at the other end (probably Fasoli, he mused) sounded unusually harried. “Wait your turn, Twenty-three! I'll put you in line with the others.”

The others? That didn't sound right. What was coming down here, besides rain? Leaving the line open, he picked up his own rifle and moved to stand alongside Erla.

“Business dispute, you reckon?” he murmured.

She shook her head, having pulled the helmet's protective visor down over her eyes. “Too many locals involved. You see the rifles?” He nodded. “Where did the Sakis get shock rifles?”

“Don't know,” her partner responded tersely. “Right now I'm more interested in finding out if they know how to use 'em.”

Upon reaching the sentry's position, the Deyzara did not race past. Instead, they alternately stumbled and fell to a halt, clustering as tightly as they could behind the two humans. Their always pungent body odor was powerful with perspiration, and their blaze of usually immaculate colorful attire was uncharacteristically torn and dirty. One elderly individual, his breathing trunk pulsing sharply as he strained to suck air, stood as close as possible to Nilsson. It was plain that he and his companions were in the last stages of fear and exhaustion.

“Please, respected sir! You must protect us! The Sakuntala—they have all gone mad, quite mad! Houses have been burnt, businesses looted, families forced to flee for their very lives. Help us!”

Erla blinked in the Deyzara's direction. “Say what? We haven't heard anything like that.” Her gaze shifted to her partner. “Have we?”

His attention remained focused on the onrushing Sakuntala. “Not yet.” Reaching up, he tapped his communications pickup with one index finger. “Something's not right. Not just here, either.”

At the sight of the two armed humans, the six Sakuntala slowed. Those holding the rifles fingered them in a fashion sufficiently familiar to suggest to Nilsson that the natives did indeed know how to use the advanced Commonwealth weapons.

“What's all this about, now?” Erla demanded to know, holding her ground.

The Sakuntala exchanged glances. They were barely breathing hard. It was clear they had been toying with the Deyzara they had been chasing and, had they wished to do so, could have overtaken them at any time. That in itself was suggestive—though of what, precisely, neither Commonwealth soldier could be sure.

One of the Sakuntala armed with a club stepped forward, holding the weapon out parallel in front of his torso to show that he meant, for the moment, no harm. “We have begun this thing to take back our world. Not involve humans. Not want hurt you.”

“The feeling's mutual.” Nilsson spoke softly but did not lower his weapon. “So if you'll just turn around, or go around, we'll all be content and nobody'll get hurt.”

Looking past the sentry, the speaker glowered at the pitiful Deyzara. “Step to left or step to right. Both steps make safe for you and me.”

Erla glanced back down at the huddled refugees. She did not think much of the Deyzara. Neither did she have any particular affection for the Sakuntala. But she was quite fond of her rank.

“How about you step back and they step forward? That'll have the same result: nobody'll get hurt, and whatever this is all about can be sorted out later.”

The Sakuntala hesitated. Nilsson's eyes shifted slightly to the right and he raised the muzzle of his gun. “If you're thinking of using that old shock rifle, big-ears, you'd better make sure you don't miss with your first shot. Mine's a stable repeater, and I could kill you and all five of your buddies before you have time to figure out what you did wrong.”

“Not to mention,” Erla added, tapping her chest plate, “that we're wearing armor and you're wearing fur. Take it from me: in a firefight, armor is better.”

Several of the Sakuntala fell to murmuring sharply among themselves. Disagreement was palpable. Finally they turned and, with a couple of murderous backward glances, loped back the way they had come, disappearing among the rain and the trees.

As bawling, appreciative Deyzara crowded close around him, pawing him with grateful two-digited hands, Nilsson barked into his pickup, “Fasoli, what the hell's going on?” He tapped the tip of the lightweight pickup again, making it bounce slightly. “Fasoli, dammit!” The dispatcher didn't answer.

He was very, very busy.

Such actions were being repeated, on scales both larger and smaller, throughout a large portion of the inhabited Viisiiviisii. It rapidly became apparent that unlike in the past, the attacks were not random outbreaks of anti-Deyzara violence but were being well coordinated. In the face of the ferocious (but by no means universal) assault, those frightened Deyzara who were able to do so fled their small settlements. Seeking protection and aid, they began to converge on the larger, more developed towns and municipalities. At first they were taken in by relatives and friends. But as the full dimension of the attacks and the scope of the tragedy became clear, more and more sought shelter in public facilities. These were rapidly overwhelmed by the number and desperation of the refugees with which they were being asked to cope.

Calls began to go out. Information traveled through the troubled Viisiiviisii. Eventually it reached Taulau.

Where it all ended up, metaphorically if not literally, on one desk.

7

B
rushing idly at the softly humming brim of her fully charged rain cape, Lauren Matthias gazed glumly at the chaos before her. Hundreds of Deyzara were packed into the port's staging area, a sea of mooning eyes, bobbing trunks, and pale rain-slicked heads. There was hardly enough room for those already there while more were arriving every hour on foot and via transport. Flocks of gauzy-winged, serrated-beaked voukopu soared overhead, skimming from one tree or building to another in search of the dead meat they seemed certain was to be forthcoming.

Gosling was a good man, but the strain was already showing on his face. He was nominally in charge of a refugee agency that had not even existed forty-eight hours earlier. Though doing his best, he was clearly overwhelmed by the scope of the task before him.

“They keep filtering in,” he told her in his sorrowful, laconic manner. “Some of the other towns are worse.”

“So I've been told.” Walking past the families was hard. Broodlings gaped up at her out of impossibly wide, confused eyes: they had been forced to surrender the familiar, sometimes at spear or gunpoint, often in the middle of the night. Most families had brought some food with them. That would soon begin to run out, she knew. Then it would be the responsibility of the Commonwealth, as the administering authority, to feed them. She had already made arrangements for individual teams to set aside their regular duties in favor of hunting-and-gathering expeditions. That would help. Whether or not it, in combination with the usual warehoused supplies available in each community, would be enough remained to be seen.

The Sakuntala could help—except that the Sakuntala were the cause of the crisis. The trouble was that many of those who did not agree with the methods being employed by the radicals, and there were many, had been intimidated into refusing assistance. Others gave tacit approval to the end the radicals were striving toward even if they did not agree with the means that were being used. A dangerous majority were indifferent. The result was a carefully crafted conundrum knotty enough to test the skills of a senior diplomat.

Which she was not. She was only an administrator.

Jack was being as supportive as possible. He could hold her and tell her that everything was going to be all right, but he couldn't make decisions for her. At least Andrea had settled down. The scale of the emergency and the extent of the overt violence had pushed adolescent concerns onto the back burner. In other words, Matthias knew, the events of the past couple of days had forced her daughter to grow up a little.

“We can handle another thousand max, maybe.” Gosling was studying the crowd. His staff was methodically settling groups in empty hangars and available storage buildings, trying to provide every family and individual with at least a modicum of shelter. There was no pushing or shoving among the Deyzara. It was not that they were an especially docile people, just that they were used to, and respected, the benefits of organization.

“Any more than that and port operations will begin to be compromised.”

Matthias's mouth tightened. “We can't have that, Eric. Local transport is going to be more important than ever, and we're going to need space for some big boys to land and unload here.”

“How soon until the first relief ship arrives?”

“Couple of weeks. The government on Praxiteles has been as helpful as you could ask for, but it still takes time to get relief material together, shuttled to orbit, loaded, and delivered. Tharce Four is putting together an enormous shipment, as you might expect, but there's no telling when that will get here. That's what happens when the world you're on lies on the fringes of settled space.” She checked her chronometer. “I've got to get back to the office. I'm meeting with representatives of both species.”

Gosling sighed. “These things blow up among the Sakuntala all the time. Maybe this one will disappear as quickly as it surfaced.”

“Let's hope so.” Privately, she was seriously concerned. This uprising was different from the periodic outbursts of violence that were so much a part of Sakuntala culture. An uncharacteristic amount of planning was involved. The radicals were acting in concert all across the Viisiiviisii. Then there were the reports that some of the insurgents possessed advanced weaponry, and not the kind used for shooting game. A hasty check of stores showed nothing missing from the armory. Where had shock rifles and neuronic pistols come from? The radicals would need outside help to acquire such weapons. Who among her staff or the limited number of successful Sakuntala traders or even rogue elements among the Deyzara could have smuggled in such weaponry?

Her thoughts had no rest as she took the slider back to Administration, dodging pedestrians as she navigated the web of suspended spun-strilk walkways. Deeper inside Taulau Town life went on as usual, with none of the turmoil attendant on the activities at the port. The surrounding signs of normality served to settle her nerves somewhat. By the time she reached Administration and parked the slider in its charging slot, she was feeling a little better. Unseen lightning illuminated the clouds, and distant thunder boomed. Not a good sign. The rain on Fluva usually fell without such dramatic accompaniment.

She barely had time to slip out of her rain suit and cape and enter her office before she found herself besieged by a pair of Deyzara. Her assistant looked in helplessly. Matthias waved him off.

“I'll handle it, Sanuel. That's what I'm here for.”

The assistant eyed the three visitors uneasily. “Let me know if you need anything, Administrator. Anything at all.” Somewhat reluctantly, he stepped back out into the outer office, closing the door behind him.

The single Sakuntala present, Matthias noted as she sat down behind her desk, looked troubled but not angry. For that much she was grateful. The two Deyzara were making enough noise to drown out the sound of rain on the trees outside her window.

Raising both hands, she managed to get the pair to sit down. Next to them yet distant, the female Hata Sakuntala crouched silently on her haunches, her tail moving back and forth behind her in slow, measured arcs.

“You absolutely for certain must do something!” The male Deyzara's trunks were wandering all over the place.

“Yes.” His female companion glared over at the serene Sakuntala. “Our people are being driven from their homes; they are having their property looted and destroyed. There have been injuries and killings. All of this is decidedly unprovoked. We demand Commonwealth protection, and that the perpetrators of these miserable, cowardly acts be brought to justice and appropriately punished!”

Matthias nodded as she folded her hands on the desk. “I'm still gathering information.”

“Information? I will give you information!” Quivering with anger, the male's speaking trunk threatened to snap off his head and go careening around the room on its own. “I will give you so much information it will make your hirsute head hurt! Why, Administrator Matthias, down in Kawili District alone there have been—”

Raising a hand once more, she interrupted what threatened to become a lengthy diatribe. Hooting softly, the Deyzara subsided. Turning to her left, the human administrator found herself gazing at the waiting Sakuntala. The female appeared neither smug nor upset. That did not mean, Matthias told herself, the indigenous representative would be receptive to queries.

“Hata Naneci-tok, can you give me some idea, any idea, what has prompted this unexpected violent outbreak? Before I can decide what to do next, I have to know what's going on.” Both Deyzara joined her in facing the Sakuntala. Their expressions, though nowhere near as versatile as those of human or native, were severe enough to be recognized.

As the Hata shifted her long, slender legs, the strappings around her waist and thighs made small clacking sounds. “There always been element among my people that not accept presence of Deyzara people on Fluva. Has inspired unpleasant incidents for long time. But always carried out by small, isolated groups of unhappy individuals. This something much different.”

Matthias wished she could read the Sakuntala better. It was impossible to tell whether this Hata was being honest or devious. She hoped for the former.

“I've received reports that some of the Sakuntala involved in this disturbance have come into the possession of advanced weaponry. One of the first things I did was order a complete check of my government's limited local inventory of such items. Nothing is missing, not even a field knife. Therefore, the armaments I am hearing about must have come from somewhere else. Do you have any idea who is supplying the radicals with such dangerous ordnance?”

“I have no more idea than you,” Naneci-tok replied truthfully. Several times her tongue flicked out to tap the floor, a sure sign of personal discomfort. Looking to her left, she regarded the Deyzara out of eyes that were sorrowful as well as penetrating. “You not the only ones who have been deceived.”

The Deyzara were not mollified. Snapping the two digits of her left hand together sharply, the female once more assailed the human administrator. “If the Sakuntala Hatas can no longer control their own people, then we must assuredly have protection from Commonwealth forces. If we accept, albeit reluctantly, that the local authorities are no longer able to enforce restraint among all elements of the indigenous population, that clearly leaves us at the mercy of its most fanatic components. We have begun to resist, to fight back, but we would prefer that the Commonwealth intervene on behalf of what is right.”

Wonderful, Matthias thought moodily. Just what she needed: an all-out civil war between the two local sentient species.

“I can't authorize armed intervention on behalf of the Commonwealth in the absence of proof of extensive casualties. There have been some confirmed deaths, but nothing on a scale that would allow me to justify Commonwealth intervention.”

“Why not?” the male inquired bitterly. “Because it might mean some humans would die, instead of just lowly Deyzara and Sakuntala?”

“We will go and speak to the local representatives of the Church,” his companion declared.

Matthias eyed her regretfully. “I can tell you right now that the United Church will not intercede with force in favor of one side or the other. The local padres are authorized to defend themselves and their missions, but not to intervene in such matters. Nor will they, since they minister to Sakuntala as well as Deyzara.”

“Then what, I ask, are we to do?” The male's frustration threatened to overwhelm the heart-hammering efforts of his overworked circulatory system.

It was an honest, and a good, question, Matthias knew. The radicals were being very clever. Instead of perpetrating a massacre that could bring Commonwealth intervention, they were apparently making a conscious effort to avoid casualties. Deyzara were being beaten, their properties looted and destroyed, but except in a few isolated instances, killing was being avoided. The two-trunks were not being slaughtered—they were being herded. Into towns, where pressure was growing on her own people as well as on private enterprises to house and feed them. One way to alleviate such pressure would be to move refugees off-world, where adequate facilities existed to care for them.

Which, she reflected, was precisely what the extremist groups among the Sakuntala wanted. Once the Deyzara were off-world, she doubted that even the moderate elements among the Sakuntala would allow any to return.

Who had advised them on such a plan of action? Knowing the Sakuntala as she did, she found it hard to credit the fanatics among them with such cunning. The radicals were known for their audacity, not their restraint. Someone was helping them with advice as well as with advanced arms. But who? A few elements among the Deyzara themselves might benefit from seeing a large number of their colleagues ejected from Fluva. That was a hard possibility to countenance. What of her own kind? Could she trust every human on Fluva? Take the inventorying of weapons, for example. Without seeing for herself, how did she know if the report that had been hastily compiled and sent to her was wholly accurate?

She wished Jack were there, seated beside her. His steadying presence would have been welcomed. But it would have undercut her authority and prompted whispering. People sat near her to have
her
support, not the other way around. She felt very alone.

The trio of locals was staring at her and she became aware she hadn't said anything in too long. They were waiting for an answer to the Deyzara's question. Taking a deep breath, she folded her hands in front of her and sat up as straight as her tired back would allow.

“This is what I am going to do for now. Any Deyzara that enters a chartered community will be given the protection of the local Commonwealth authorities. Food and shelter will be provided insofar as resources permit. The radicals will not be allowed to harass refugees.”

The female Deyzara indicated satisfaction. “What about those of us who are trapped outside such municipal boundaries and who are unable to reach such designated areas of safety? And what about the destruction of property?”