The Mystery of Ireta (16 page)

“Well, let us know how EV appreciates our labors on this stinking planet. Although—” Dimenon frowned and felt his nostrils. “Rake it! I forgot to put ’em in again!”

“Smell anything?” asked Kai, amused.

Dimenon’s eyes began to widen and his mouth dropped in exaggerated reaction.

“I’ve got used to the stench!” He roared the statement, full of aggrieved incredulity. “Kai, please, when you’ve got through to EV, have them pick us up before schedule? Please, I’ve got used to the stench of hydrotelluride.” He clutched at his throat now, contorting his face as though in terminal agony, “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.”

Lunzie, who was literal-minded, came rushing up, frowning with anxiety while Kai tried to gesture reassurance. Others were grinning at Dimenon’s histrionics, but the heavy-worlders, after uninterested glances at the geologist, turned back to their own quiet-toned discussions. Lunzie still hadn’t realized that Dimenon was acting. He grabbed at her shoulders now.

“Tell me, Lunzie, tell me I’m not a goner. My sense of smell’ll come back, won’t it? Once I’m in decent air? Oh, don’t tell me I’ll never be able to smell nothing in the air again . . .”

“If the acclimatization should be permanent, you could always get an Iretan air-conditioner for your shipboard quarters,” Lunzie replied, apparently in earnest.

Dimenon looked horrified and, for a moment, didn’t catch the brand of the physician’s humor.

“C’mon, partner, you’ve been bested,” said Margit, taking him by the arm. “Better to smell the sweet air of another find . . .”

“
Could
you get so used to Iretan stink you’d never smell normally again?” Bonnard asked Lunzie, a little worried as he watched the two geologists leave.

“No,” said Lunzie with a dry chuckle. “The smell is powerful but I doubt there’s any permanent desensitization. The temporary effect
is
somewhat of a blessing. Do you have it?”

Bonnard nodded uncertainly. “But I didn’t know I couldn’t smell it anymore until Dimenon mentioned it.” This worried him.

“Since you are now used to the overbearing smell, see if you can now distinguish other, previously unsensed odors while you’re out and about today.”

“Worse ones?” Bonnard regarded Lunzie, appalled.

“I can smell a difference in the blossoms I’ve been cataloguing,” said Terilla. “And some of the leaves have an odor if you crush ’em . Not too bad a smell, really,” she added helpfully.

That morning Kai checked with Lunzie about stores. She was not the sort of person to give spot replies and together they went to the store hold.

“I’m not missing any of the fruit distillation, if that’s what you’re worried about, Kai,” she said in her direct fashion. “We’ve not made too many inroads in the subsistence supplies, either. I’ve been gradually phasing them out entirely, in favor of local protein.”

“You have,” Kai was surprised.

“You hadn’t noticed?” There was a slight emphasis on the pronoun. Lunzie smiled briefly with pleasure at the success of her program. “We are losing hard goods, though, at a rate which worries me.”

“Hard goods?”

“Knives, film and sheet extruders, spare charges for lift-belts . . .”

“What did the secondary camps take?”

“Not enough to account for some of these items. Unless, of course, they haven’t reported the losses and have merely helped themselves when I was busy elsewhere.” That solu- tion sounded plausible. “If I may, I’ll appoint Cleiti as requisitions officer and have her on hand when anyone needs to visit the supply hold. We can keep a check that way without giving offense . . .”

Or warning, thought Kai, and then decided that his imagination was working overtime. He did need that day’s respite.

Varian returned to the camp from one of her search-and-identify sweeps early on the afternoon before rest day. She cornered Kai in his dome, scornfully clacking the tape holders that were stacked in front of him, tugging at the seismic point-out on the volcanic action in the northwest which he had been studying. Pressures were mounting on a long transform fault and he was hoping they’d have enough warning to be able to observe the earthquake when the phenomenon occurred.

“Leave that, Kai. You can zip through report work a lot faster with a fresh mind.”

“It’s early yet . . .”

“Raking right it is. I got back especially so I could pry you out of here before the teams come in and dump such glowing reports on you that you feel obliged to listen.” She went back to the iris lock. “Cleiti! Did you organize those supplies for us? And where’s Bonnard?” The reply was inaudible to Kai but satisfactory to Varian, who nodded. “If he’s sure he’s got what he needs, tell him to pack it into the sled beside my things. Kai, where’s your pack? Ha! Thought so. Okay, what do you need?”

Varian moved purposefully to his storage chest so that Kai pushed back his stool and waved her away. She stood, grinning but adamant, while he packed what he needed into his sleep sack, and gathered up his safety gear. With a courteous sweep of his hand, he indicated he was ready.

“I knew I’d have to haul you out of here.” Varian sounded grimly smug.

“Then what are you dragging your feet for?” asked Kai with a smile and exited before her. As an afterthought, he thumblocked the iris control. He didn’t really want anyone to happen across the message tapes with the Theks.

As Varian neatly swung the big sled over the encampment, sparkling with the blue demise of insects, she groaned. “We should have brought a small unit for tonight. We’ll have to sleep in belt-screens!”

“Not if we sack out on the sled floor,” said Bonnard, eyeing the space. “I think there’s room enough if we stack our supplies on the front seating and remove the side benches. Shall I activate the telltale?”

“This once, we’ll leave it silent,” said Varian. “There wouldn’t be anything untagged this close to camp anyway.”

A companionable silence enveloped the three and lasted the entire trip to the inland sea, which they reached just as the last speck of gloom, as Bonnard phrased it, began to fade from the sullen skies. Varian had marked a good landing site, a shallow terrace beyond and below the main congregation of the giffs but with a fine view of the summit where the netted fish were deposited.

The first hour after sunset there was a brief surcease of daytime insect activity before the nocturnal creatures became a menace. During this interim, Varian heated their evening meal on the bare stone terrace. Then, to the amazement of Bonnard and the consternation of Kai, she removed dead branches from the storage section of the sled and lit a small fire.

“Campfire is very comforting even if you ship-bred types think it’s atavistic. My father and I used to have one every night on our expeditions.”

“It’s very pretty,” said Bonnard in a tentative tone, and looked toward Kai to see his reaction.

Kai smiled and told himself to relax. Fire on shipboard was a hazard: his instant reflex had been to grab something to smother the flames, but as he eyed the small fire, which posed no danger to him, the dancing spikes were pleasantly hypnotic. The small warmth it exuded gave them a circle of light and certainly kept the insects away.

“The oldest belt-screen in the world,” Varian said, poking the fire to fresh vigor with a stick. “On Protheon, they were particular about their firewoods, choosing those which gave off pleasant aromas. They liked scent with their warmth and light. I wouldn’t dare try that on Ireta.”

“Why not?” asked Bonnard, his eyes fixed on a point deep in the flames. “Terilla said there’re some that smell pretty good—by Iretan standards. You know, Varian, I haven’t been able to smell anything but Ireta! D’you suppose Lunzie could be wrong and my nose has gone dead?”

Varian and Kai both laughed. “You’ll know soon enough when we get back to the EV,” Varian told him.

“Yeah!” Bonnard’s reply lacked any enthusiasm for return.

“You’d be sorry to leave?”

“I sure will, Kai, and it’s not because we’ll have to leave Dandy. There’s so much to do here. I mean, tapes are great, and better than nothing, but this trip I’m learning hundreds of things. Learning’s got a point . . .”

“You have to have had the theoretical study before you can attempt the practical,” Varian said, but Bonnard waved that consideration aside.

“I’ve studied basics till data comes out my pores, but it isn’t the same thing at all as being here and doing it!” Bonnard was emphatically banging his knee. “Like that fire, and all. Rakers, on shipboard you see flames and dash for the foamer!”

Varian grinned at Kai and caught his rueful expression.

“Your point’s taken, Bonnard,” she said. “And I think it’s safe to say that you’ll be in demand for more expeditions once Kai and I have made our report. Bakkun thinks highly of your performance as his recorder.”

“He does?” Bonnard’s expression, which had soured at the contemplation of return to EV, brightened with such a future. “You’re sure?” His gaze went from Varian to Kai.

“As far as you can be sure of a heavy-worlder.”

“Are there more expeditions planned, Varian?” asked Bonnard urgently.

“More or less,” she replied, catching Kai’s gaze. “I was signed on this tour for three expeditions requiring a xenob over a period of four standard years. You’d be eligible as a junior member in that time. Of course, you might opt for geology rather than xenob.”

“I like animals,” said Bonnard, testing the words in his mouth so as not to give offense to either leader, “but I do like . . . sort of fancy the more scientific aspects of . . .”

“I’d think you’d be best as an all-round recorder, with as many specialties in that area as possible,” said Varian, helping him.

“You do?”

His reaction made it obvious to Kai and Varian that it was the mechanics of recording that fascinated the boy, rather than any of the individual disciplines. They talked about specialization as the fire burned down, was replenished, and burned down again. By the time Kai suggested they sack out, the two leaders had assured Bonnard that they would give him as much opportunity at tape and recorders as possible to see if this was really where his interests lay.

Safe under the sled’s protective screen, they slept deeply and without a bother from the night creatures of Ireta.

Varian was aroused the next morning by something prodding her shoulder. She was still sleepy, but again she was prodded, more emphatically this time, and her name was whispered urgently.

“Varian. Varian! Wake up. We got company.”

That forced her to open her eyes which she instantly closed, not believing her first sight.

“Varian, you’ve got to wake up!” Bonnard’s whisper was anxious.

“I am. I’ve seen.”

“What do we do?”

“Have you moved yet?”

“Only to nudge you. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” They were both speaking in low tones. “Can you prod Kai awake?”

“I don’t know how he wakes up.”

Bonnard had a point. It wouldn’t do to rouse someone who erupted out of the sack like a torpedo. He’d known how to rouse her since he’d often done so when they’d first acquired Dandy.

“Kai’s quiet if you do it as gently as you woke me.”

Varian grinned to herself. She wasn’t sorry she’d included Bonnard on this trip. Last night’s discussion had proved how much he’d needed the encouragement as well as the opportunity to talk without reservations imposed on him by the presence of older team members or the two girls. It had been obvious last evening that Kai would have preferred to have made this a duet trip, and a complete break from the exigencies of leadership. Now she’d pried him away from his tape decks, she’d do it again, without a third party.

They had slept head to foot, so while Bonnard prodded Kai’s shoulder with his foot, Varian whispered the warning to him.

“Kai, wake slowly, don’t move. The observers are observed.”

She had her eyes half-open now, because the giffs were so closely ringed about the sled that, in her first arousal, she had seen a series of bright black eyes on a level with hers.

She almost giggled when a sharp orangy beak point tapped at the plascreen surrounding the sled, tapping gently as if not wishing to startle the sleepers.

“Muhlah!” was Kai’s soft curse and there was a ripple of laughter in his tone.

“Is it safe for me to have a look?” asked Bonnard in his hushed whisper.

“Don’t know why not. They’re looking at us.”

“Can they get in?” was Bonnard’s anxious question.

“I doubt it,” said Varian, unperturbed. She wouldn’t guarantee that the plascreen could stand a concerted attack of heavier adult beaks, but she didn’t feel that aggression was the giff’s intent.

“I thought you wanted to see their matutinal habits, Varian.” said Kai, slowly raising his head from the sleep sack to prop it on his hand. He wasn’t looking at her, but beyond her to the golden-furred faces peering in.

“That was my intention.”

“As I recall it, I asked you what if it was their rest day?”

Varian couldn’t suppress her laughter and Bonnard joined in, never dropping his eyes from the giffs.

“You mean, they’re taking the day off to watch us?”

“They’re at least starting the day doing it,” said Varian, raising herself slowly out of the sack.

The avians moved restlessly, wings awkwardly held up.

“Hey, they can rotate the wings at the wrist . . .”

“Yes, Bonnard, I’d noticed.” Varian had also seen the flexing of the three digits with the yellowed claws at the tips. The function of thumb and little fingers had been incorporated into the wing so Varian couldn’t see how they would be able to weave with the three wing digits.

“Hey, they’re not all here,” said Bonnard, pointing up in a judiciously controlled gesture.

None of the giffs were perched on top of the plascreen, so that the sky was clearly visible. Outlined against the clouds was a formation of giffs going in a southeasterly direction.

“I think we’ve got the youngsters here,” said Varian.

“The babes at that,” said Kai, pointing to the trail of brownish slime that drippled down the outside skirting of the sled.

Bonnard muffled a chortle. “So what do we do now? I’m hungry.”