The Mystery of Ireta (29 page)

As they waited, rain fell in torrents again. The sun shone to make the jungle a steaming bath which they had to endure. Eventually they dozed.

It was the silence that roused them, for the wind had briefly abated at sunset. Disoriented, they struggled to their feet, staring uncertainly at each other in the fading light.

“The watchers are still watching!” Varian commented after peering through the leaves.

Nine golden fliers perched at various levels of the adjoining cliffs, all heads turned in one direction.

“Can they
see
us here?” Kai asked in a muted voice. “Or smell us?”

“Not when we’re downwind of them. I can’t believe they’d be aware of us.” Varian did not sound certain. “That’s not within the capability of their species. Smell—that’s debatable. I think they rely heavily on sight. And I don’t think that extrasensory gifts are a likely development on this planet.”

“Comparing them to the Ryxi?”

“No, to what Trizein said about the primeval Terran life-forms they resemble.” She slapped her hand against her knee. “If only we hadn’t kept that man walled up in his lab, we might have resolved at least one of this planet’s anomalies. How could creatures that lived in Mesozoic Terra come to be here on Ireta? Every xenobiologist in the FSP
knows
identical life-forms cannot spontaneously develop on distant planets—no matter how similar the worlds and their primaries!”

“Does that observation offer any clue as to how
we
can get back to our cave and Tor? I don’t fancy rappelling down a vine in the darkness.”

“Nor do I.” Varian straightened suddenly. “Wait a sec! Before we slept, Triv and the others were back and forth to the ravine collecting for the synthesizer. The giffs were only interested: they watched, as I remember, and were certainly not aggressive. But—” and she shook her forefinger, emphasizing the condition—“they are protective of their young. Extend that and it’s just possible that they’re protecting the cave because it’s within their territory.”

“You mean they got protective over
us
after a single meeting and a few furtive vegetable raids?”

“It’s possible. If only we knew how long we had slept! However,” and Varian pointed at him, “
if
the heavy-worlders got here, and were their usual aggressive selves while trying to find the space shuttle, the giffs would resent such an intrusion. Well, let’s say they did. So it is the heavy-worlders who changed the giffs’ passive curiosity into active aggression. Only . . . that doesn’t really explain the vine screen! Protectiveness can be conditioned, learned. Giffs
are
the smartest creatures we’ve met on Ireta, but could they be
that
intelligent? I don’t think they’ve progressed that far.”

Kai could only shrug as her voice trailed off: he knew little xenopsychology.

“Isn’t that a mist rising?” Varian asked, straining to see in the gathering gloom of Ireta’s swift twilight. “That might give us cover.”

They watched eagerly as mist swirled up from the sea and over the cliff edge, but they hadn’t taken more than ten paces from cover before four winged objects hurtled toward them, beaks ajar, wing talons extended. Varian and Kai reached shelter as giff claws tore strips from the leaves over their heads.

“How did they know? They couldn’t bloody see!” Kai demanded when he recovered his breath.

“Sound!” Varian regarded her boots in disgust. She stamped a boot contemptuously. “These broadcast our movements. To demonstrate . . .”

She located a handful of loose chippings and threw them out onto the cliff. Though they knew they were safe, they both ducked at the whirr of wings as the giffs responded to the sounds.

“So?” asked Kai.

“So, while we’re waiting . . .”

“How long is that likely to be now?”

“Giffs are not nocturnal. Sooner or later, habit is going to be too strong for them and they’ll want to get back to their nests. Particularly,” she added at his skeptical expression, “if we give them reason to doubt our continued presence here. Like a small avalanche down the ravine . . .”

“Ah . . .”

“Then, with our boots off, we tiptoe quietly home . . .”

“
Sounds
simple enough.”

“I know.” Her tone admitted that simple plans can suddenly develop serious flaws.

Nevertheless, they began quietly searching the ravine edge for a suitable natural slide. They then dammed it with a fallen branch to which they attached a vine. It was difficult to find enough stones and rubble to place behind the branch. Once a small shower cascaded into the ravine, and they suspended all movement until the whirr of wings disappeared. They worked quickly for Ireta’s night would soon complicate things. As it was, they finished the last of their arrangements in the dark. Removing their boots, they secured them to the blanket packs across their shoulders.

“I have a sudden negative thought,” said Varian, her lips against Kai’s ears. “I can’t remember how far it is to the edge of the cliff. We won’t be able to see until we’re there—or over it.”

Kai contemplated that hazard. “Well, it’s not going to make any difference when we try to cross in the dark, is it? So, if they’re diurnal, they might just fall asleep if we give ’em enough time. Then . . .” he paused as a sudden notion occurred to him, “why not lengthen this release vine and go as far as we can, and make our avalanche when and if we need a diversion?”

Varian gave his head a quick squeeze and then turned to cut more vine. In whispered consultation, they estimated that the edge of the cliff was about thirty meters away, so Varian knotted sufficient vine to approximate that length.

Waiting in darkness punctuated by the noises of night creatures which nibbled, squeaked, and scrabbled was most tedious. Kai practiced the Disciplined breathing that calmed nerves, and exerted the strength of patience on an overactive imagination. Tiny noises in infinite variety assumed a menacing quality despite the slightness of sound. He could feel Varian, beside him, practicing the same exercises and was subtly comforted.

Varian’s sudden disappearance from his side startled him.

“No mist, and only three sleepy bird watchers,” was her quiet murmur in his ear a moment later.

“We go?”

Her answer was a hand on his, then she stepped in front of him, slowly parting the vegetation as he followed, playing out the release line as she cleared the way.

Although the vines lay in thick profusion along the cliff top, there was sufficient space between tendrils to allow their bare feet a reassuring contact with the cooling stone. Bent in a semicrouch, Kai watched Varian’s white feet as they moved forward, always angled back in the direction of the ravine. He kept the line as taut as he dared. Varian, one hand lightly touching his shoulder, kept her eyes on the curiously luminous forms of the giffs, whose crested heads were turned toward the ravine. Their wings were folded. Kai wondered if they kept from falling over by clutching the rock with their wing-joint talons. They were so motionless, they had to be asleep.

There are many aspects of time, Kai thought grimly as he and Varian continued their stealthy, seemingly infinite journey. There is the objective time lost in cold sleep, which might have been centuries or only a few years. But the variety of time he was now experiencing was definitely hard to endure subjectively. His leg muscles began to twitch with the cramp of controlled motion. His hands were starting to sweat with a fear that an inadvertent tug would break the vine or that he wouldn’t be able to release the key log to provide the crucial diversion.

Abruptly Varian stopped, twisted her torso to put her mouth to his ear.

“Kai, we’ve got to find the vines we used this morning. They’ll be to our right. I can’t see, but I feel we should move that way.”

Kai glanced nervously at the sleeping giffs, now slightly to the right and behind them. Varian plucked at his sleeve, and he followed her light guidance, sliding his feet carefully over vines to the stone interstices. He almost fell over Varian when she crouched suddenly, and it took all his control not to jerk on the release line. He was also startled by the realization that only two more loops remained in his hand. As he turned to warn her, they bumped noses.

“I’m almost out of vine.”

“I’ve found ours. I think.” Varian took his left hand and placed it on the thick stem. She moved beyond his reach, but he could see her nod that she’d found her vine and he should move on down.

Kai forced Discipline on himself, willing the tension out of his blood and tissue. Then there was only a short piece of vine left in his hand, the final edge tickling as it curled into his palm.

“Varian!”

The white blur of face turned to him. He knew she’d seen his upraised hand; she made a thumbs-up gesture and crouched to run, her hand along the vine that would take her over the cliff and into sanctuary.

He pulled as firm and hard as he could, felt something vibrate along the length of the line. Then he began to run, hands before him on the rough vine trunk, counting his steps. Wouldn’t do to hurtle over the cliff.

The rumble of the stones cascading into the ravine startled him so much that he nearly lost count of his strides. The giffs roused with a squawk. He looked back at them. To his relief, their heads were turned away and their motion was upward.

“I’m at the edge, Kai!” Varian’s voice was low but intense.

He found it, too, just as his leading foot slipped into a crevice. Then he closed his hands about the fat vine and, in blind faith that it was the right one, began to scramble down it. He scraped his knuckles against the cliff wall and then swung into free air, as the vine curved inward, still secured to the shuttle docking brace.

“Krims! I grabbed the wrong one,” Varian suddenly exclaimed.

“Swing near me, Varian. I’ll catch you!”

“No!”

He heard that defiant negative above the screams of the giffs. Only the Discipline that had been instilled in them both, that one leader must survive, forced him to continue down his vine until he was inside the cave and knew it was safe to let go. He staggered to his feet, able to distinguish the cave mouth by the slightly brighter darkness.

“Varian!”

“I’m to your right. I got the wrong vine. It’s too short. Can you see me?”

He couldn’t. The curtain of vines hid her. “Can you grab the next vine? Shake it!”

Tracing the sound, he found the agitated vine and hauled it back into the cave, bracing it.

“Okay, switch and slide!”

When her feet touched him, he guided her legs to the ground. They clung together, trembling with a reaction neither bothered to Discipline.

Then, hand in hand, they moved to the curved bow of the shuttle, unslung their improvised packs, carefully removing the fruit and nuts. Then they curled up together in the blankets and were almost instantly asleep.

3

“K
AAAIIII!
” The rumble that awakened Kai was a nightmare sound because the noise not only issued from a source uncomfortably close to his ear but it also vibrated through the stone under him.

“Huh? Whaaat?” Varian lifted her head from its pillow on his upper arm. “Tor?” She blinked up at the rock which, from her perspective, towered above them.

As she moved, the recorder was firmly placed on Kai’s diaphragm, forcing an exhalation from him.

“Location old core?” the recorder said in lugubrious tones.

“The old core?” Varian’s voice echoed the astonishment which she and Kai felt for that totally unexpected query. “We’ve nearly been murdered, stripped of all survival equipment, out of touch with everyone . . .”

Kai tightened his arm to silence her. “Typical Thek logic, Varian. It chose the issue important to it, not us. I wonder if that old core is what stirred Tor to come.”

“Huh?” Varian struggled to a sitting position, drawing her legs away from Tor’s meter-high triangular lump of granite.

“Where do you remember last seeing that core?” Kai asked her.

“Frankly, I’d other things on my mind than ancient geological artifacts and yet . . .” She frowned as she searched her memory. “It must have been in Gaber’s dome. Paskutti wouldn’t have been interested in it. Would Bakkun have hung on to it for some obscure reason?”

“Bakkun?” Kai thought of the heavy-world geologist with whom he had often teamed on field trips. “No, he wouldn’t value it. He already knew where the ore sites were.” Kai looked up at the Thek. “Original compound!”

Tor rumbled, but Kai was diverted by Varian’s urgent tug on his arm.

“If he’s going to the compound, Kai, we could take a power pack and go with him. The heavy-worlders couldn’t have used the sleds without power. They might still be where they were stashed. If we could have some form of transport . . .”

“Accompany for search, Tor!” Kai said in loud measured tones, repeating the request as the Thek’s rumbling continued.

“I wonder where we’d fit,” said Varian, thoughtfully staring at the Thek vehicle.

The fit, as Kai discovered, was exceedingly close for just one of them. The spare power pack could be secured neatly to one side of Tor’s pointed top but one full-sized human had to cram his body against the curve of the shield canopy, arching over the Thek’s mass. After taking a long look at his flight position, Kai turned to Varian.

“I think you’d better wake Lunzie and Triv. The others can stay in cold sleep until we need them but I’d rather have the two Disciples awake.”

“You’re not expecting trouble, are you? Here?” asked Varian, incredulously spreading her arms to include the dim vine-bedecked cave.

“No.” Kai grinned. “Not here! But I don’t know how long I’ll be with Tor.” He shrugged. “You’d be better off with someone to talk to.
And
they could be useful, if only for the experience they’ve gained on other expeditions.”

Varian nodded agreement and returned Kai’s grin, then Tor closed the canopy about them. The Thek was warmer than Kai had thought, so he spent most of the mercifully short trip to the original compound site clutching desperately to the grips which Tor had fashioned for him on the shield’s interior. Kai remembered the trip as a series of incredible acrobatics on his part and a green blur, for the Thek sled was capable of considerably more speed than the ones designed for humanoids. Finally Tor braked its forward speed and began an abrupt circling movement.