Future Prospect (2 page)

The transition from clear decking to uneven, muddy ground tore her attention away from her thoughts, and Lia stumbled as she followed the magistrate and Cit. Tor as they ambled toward the new construction looming behind the single-story sheds and modulars of Pearl. Moca made one-sided small talk with the silent man. He kept his jaw tight and his gaze straight ahead as the magistrate smiled, gestured, and nodded. Moca’s efforts tapered off when they had to maneuver through looming piles of fibrous soil, and she fell back to Lia’s side as they emerged from the excavated material to finally get a good view of Pearl. Cit. Tor didn’t even turn his head to see where they were. Lia suppressed her irritation with the man. One of them could’ve fallen in a pit and drowned in the boggy liquid filling it, and he probably wouldn’t have acknowledged the screams.

The original settlement’s buildings were constructed from every sort of material imaginable; synthboard, metal skin from containers or salvaged ships, even some shaggy columns of what were likely native tree species. How in the galaxy had anyone been inspired to name such a wretched-looking clutter after a lustrous pearl? Lia had studied all the possible information about Gamaliel before they’d left the core worlds, but she was unprepared for how ill-kempt everything was. Including the only Gamalielian she’d met; Citizen Just Tor.

“So, when will we be meeting Cit. Healy?” the magistrate asked, and Lia noticed her companions paid avid attention to the answer. Much of their work would involve cooperating with the native folk, so the more people they met, the better off everyone would be.

“Don’t know.”

“What about our community liaison? Is that Citizen waiting for us at the new building?” The magistrate sounded as hopeful as Lia was at the prospect of a fellow human who would talk with them.

“I’m it.” Cit. Tor gave a pained grimace as he led them behind a grayish, sagging building into an even muddier alley. Ahead of them, Lia could make out open space cleared from the odd columnar forest looming over them. The closer they came toward the clearing, the more she could make out huge sections of new modular units, stacks of construction materials, and builder bots scuttling around with vigor. Much better. Pulling out her datpad, Lia tried to synch her unit with the planet network which, according to her latest report, was fully functional. An error message appeared, and she repressed a sigh. Tully, the tech officer, squelched through the mud to her side and peered at her device.

“No link?”

Lia shook her head and kept walking; she didn’t want to fall behind and be surrounded by these looming tree-like organisms. Furry, pale green fronds waved from spirals in the scuffed olive trunks as tiny, brightly colored creatures flittered around with barely perceptible whining noises. Everything in the forest looked alive as it shivered in waves, and she felt motion-sick if she stared too long.

“As soon as I’m set up in my office I’ll get to work on it,” Tully promised her, earnest and eager. They’d gone to the Academy together but hadn’t shared a posting until now. Spending more time with him was the only positive point of this assignment.

“Thanks, Tully.” Lia smiled and turned her head back to find Cit. Tor scowling at her. She stared back, unsure why the man would eavesdrop. He narrowed his eyes and spun his head around to glare at the center of the clearing where their base of operations was taking shape. It didn’t appear as if anything was done; windows were missing from every modular unit, pipes jutted open-ended from freshly poured slabs, and virtuwires glowed in tiny loops from various holes in walls and ran across the wet ground in a distressingly haphazard manner.

Facilities Chief Welti jogged from one of the open doorways in front of their group and waved at everyone before stopping in front of the magistrate to greet her. He immediately began to explain why he was behind with the project. Lia stepped forward and beckoned for Welti’s datpad which he handed over with a quick grin. She’d have to do a manual update of his reports and then find a quiet place to start renovating her schedule. Wandering away from the group, she strolled over to a stack of synthboard embedded in the mud and climbed to sit on top, and then busied herself with the two datpads as she downloaded Welti’s information. She glanced up to see her colleagues in a tight huddle around Welti and the magistrate, all busy trying to get an update on the preparedness of their work areas. She needed to distribute adjusted timetables as soon as possible.

Scanning the information, she was relieved to find most of the vital areas, like medical and waste treatment, were complete despite the appearances in front of her. As she frowned over the report for the Barracks facility, a shadow darkened her devices, and she looked up to find Cit. Tor looming over her, frowning. It seemed to be his preferred expression, so she frowned back. Maybe he’d feel comfortable enough to say a few more words.

“I need to talk with you,” he rumbled and leaned one hand against the synthboard near her hip. His forearm rippled, and she watched the muscles work under his golden skin for a riveting nanosecond. Maybe the man had a musculoskeletal issue, he couldn’t seem to stand up straight or smile.

“Why?”

“You’re this Lia Frei, right?”

“Yes, I’m that Lia Frei.” She didn’t feel cooperative. Under normal circumstances, when a man with eyes that dark and velvety leaned near she’d be much more receptive, but today was work, and Cit. Tor was trouble. And her head was beginning to ache.

“So, I need to talk with you.”

“Listening,” Lia shot back and quirked an eyebrow.

He huffed out a breath, and his scowl deepened to even more unhappy depths. Too bad. She wasn’t on this planet to make anyone happy, just to get this settlement built with no delays.

“When I have a problem I’m supposed to talk with you,” Tor said and twisted his torso away as if he wanted to leave.

“I’m not a counselor.”

“I don’t need a counselor.”

Lia knew she radiated skepticism. And who wouldn’t? The man was a walking antisocial personality if she’d ever seen one. It was no wonder he lived out here amongst the tree-creatures. Maybe he was the only human inhabitant of Pearl. She hadn’t seen anyone else yet, and his abrasive manner certainly made
her
want to leave the vicinity.

“So, you already have one? How’s that working out?” Lia tried to look compassionate, but she knew she was being mean. All she wanted to do was finish updating a revised schedule and find her office. Whatever shape it might be in. She had low expectations when it came to food and shelter, so she might as well work.

“I don’t need a counselor.” Tor’s eyes flashed with annoyance as he raised his voice. “I’m fine.”

“Really? You seem very angry to me.”

“I’m not angry. Well, I’m angry for good reasons, not for irrational ones.”

“Of course. So you’re going to talk with me about your problems because…?”

“I’m supposed to liaison between the locals and you people. Your magistrate over there told me the assistant isn’t here yet. So, she said you’re it.” He levered himself away from the synthboard stack and her body.

“I understand. I understood it before. Do you have a problem you need to tell me about right now? I’m working on a revised schedule, so…” Lia trailed off, hoping he’d get the hint and make an appointment to see her at a later time. Like maybe next week. She’d known she was going to get the bulk of the local admin work, because Assistant Magistrate Cordon was still aboard the ship recovering from a case of heaves. This surly fellow was not what she wanted to deal with at the moment.

“I do have a problem.”

Lia took a breath and decided to stop taking out her nausea and exhaustion on the man. Despite his grim conversational skills, she was a professional. “What can I help you with?”

“Your construction. There are issues.”

“I know. Nothing is done according to the timeline Welti contracted. We aren’t going to have beds to sleep in tonight if he doesn’t stop chattering and get back to it. I wonder who I’ll have to bunk with?” Lia glanced at the datpad, predicting all manner of doom and gloom.

“I don’t care about who you sleep with,” Tor snapped as he crossed his arms across his chest and twisted his mouth in an unattractive frown.

“I heartily reciprocate.” She sat both datpads on the relatively clean surface of the synthboard stack and hopped to her feet. Her grand gesture was slightly hampered by how the ground squelched under her shoes, and she wavered before she caught her balance.

Tor blinked at her. “Don’t expect me to offer up my place to you.”

“That’s no surprise. It’s not as if anyone is rolling out much of a welcome for us.” Lia knew her voice was raised, but this man irritated her almost as much as a delay to her timeline did. Her head throbbed, her schedule was as ruined as her shoes, and she had no idea where she’d be sleeping. The luxury accommodations and glamorous attractions of Herald Park swam before her eyes for a tantalizing moment.

“Why should we? All you people have done is cause problems for the last four days.”

“Actually, Cit. Tor, I haven’t been on Gamaliel for forty minutes.”

“Right, this conversation only feels as if it’s been going on for four days.”

Oh, the man was uncouth. Lia took a deep breath and prepared to argue when she noticed everyone else watched them with varying shades of distress on their faces. Tully had taken a step toward her to intervene, and the magistrate grimaced with what was probably embarrassment.

Lia decided that she’d lost her temper enough for one day. Holding up a hand to communicate everything was under control, she stared at Tor’s chest for a moment to gather her thoughts. He really should button his shirt up more. Then again, it seemed he was missing more than a few buttons.

“Pardon me. I apologize for my outburst.” Lia forced a smile as she looked at the ill-mannered man in front of her. He clamped his mouth shut and jammed his hands on his hips.

“Sorry.” He gritted his teeth and tensed his shoulders as if he had suffered a physical pain because of the apology.

“You said you needed to speak with me?” Taking a breath, Lia tried to refocus on her work and not the massive regret swirling through her mind at the moment.

“Yes. To start with, there’s a problem with the building they’re doing in Tila’s yard. She’s upset.”

Progress. Here was a specific issue she could address. She pulled out her datpad and expanded one of the diagrams of the existing settlement overlaid with the new construction plans. One glowed blue, the other red, and at the points where there was an intersection of old and new, a sickly green shade appeared in the air. She asked him to show her the trouble spot, and he took a couple of steps over to her to point to a tiny multicolored blob he identified as the property in jeopardy.

Rubbing her eyes, Lia enlarged the view to show a small rectangle in red and an adjacent, much larger structure in blue. The water treatment plant. She recognized that at least, but there was no green shade to indicate anything was going to interfere with this Tila’s home.

“Where is the problem? There’s no construction affecting her home.”

“Peas and tomatoes. Right here.” His lean finger poked at the three dimensional display, indicating an incoming massive triad of pipes. “She needs to eat.”

Lia shook her head, the motion setting off her headache even more. With a wince, she tried to concentrate. “So her garden is compromised?”

Tor nodded, and she gave him a glance. His coffee brown eyes didn’t waver as he studied her. Her first thought was to tell him one corner of a backyard garden was hardly an important enough impediment to building proper water drainage which would support the hundreds of settlers waiting to arrive. Just thinking of the long list of approved ships, booked solid with excited people all hoping to make a fortune extracting cortiglow from this plant’s native epiphytes, was enough to make Lia’s head pound with the pressure. But from what she’d seen so far, the people who lived in Pearl weren’t exactly spoiled with a wide variety of foodstuff shops. So, homegrown was likely all they had.

“I need some time to reevaluate our construction schedule. Can you stop by later after I’ve had some time to get some work done?” Standing in the mud had been a mistake. She could feel moisture infiltrating her shoes and socks the longer she stood there having a stare down with Tor.

“When?”

“I’m not even sure I have an office yet. How about fifteen hundred hours? I’ll be somewhere in the admin building.” Lia tried to be accommodating but it was difficult with wet feet and a looming headache, all while woozy with fatigue.

Tor gave her a tiny nod, turned, and strode away past the piles of building materials without another word. He disappeared between two enormous furry trees. She couldn’t remember what they were called. Eldens? Rectors? Whenever she had a spare second she’d look it up.

* * * *

Colan was busy being late. He’d gone for a walk after his annoying welcome-to-Gamaliel ceremony and returned to his hut to check every point of entry for signs Ermil or Perrin had snooped around inside. He found no definite clues but couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling something was amiss. The two boys might have left some sort of booby trap to startle him at a later time, like a tyro’s egg mass close to eruption. He’d be sound asleep tonight only to be rudely awakened by a hissing chitter as thousands of tiny worms bounced around his hut spinning webs as they ricocheted all over his belongings. Just thinking about it would make it hard to fall asleep tonight. Those congressionals would be bunked down, dreaming about how wonderful they were, while he fought off a squirmy infestation.

He decided to tidy up his place on the off chance he found something hidden underneath a pile of dirty clothes or a half-unpacked duffle from his last trip. He’d been back for over a week and really should have put away his equipment by now. Basic housekeeping took him several hours, and his hut assumed a slightly less disordered appearance by the time he was done.

It was three quarters past fifteen hundred; time to go back over to the administrator’s mess of construction, find the snappish Lia Frei, and protect Tila’s peas and carrots. Stars, he was a certified planetary surveyor, this was the third planet he’d mapped from pole to pole, and he was now responsible for sweet-talking some big-eyed woman into not digging up someone’s garden. After that challenge, he’d have to convince her to alter their construction so Rue and Tun wouldn’t lose their house. He wasn’t looking forward to talking with Citizen Frei again, especially after that comment he’d made about sharing his bed. No, not sharing, loaning. He’d rather sling his hammock in a cocker tree and take his chances outside with the skin-sucking flivvers than come anywhere near that woman while she slept.