Drowning World (26 page)

Jemunu-jah gaped at the Deyzara. “The Authority would shoot Sakuntala to protect a fungus?”

“If they believe it to be intelligent, comparatively helpless, and in danger, yes. Policy would allow them to do that even if the pannula are not directly affected by the ongoing clash.”

The Sakuntala's ears bent forward and his tail lay limp on the deck behind his chair. “This changes everything.”

“That is what I am saying. Because of its uniqueness, the pannula will become the focus of Commonwealth interests on Fluva.”

“It is so absurd.”

Masurathoo rolled his eyes. “The policies of governments often are. But both the Deyzara and the Sakuntala have to learn to deal with them.” He went silent, turning to gaze again at the rain-swept forest.

Deal with them, Jemunu-jah thought furiously. Unless—what if the Commonwealth Authority continued to remain ignorant of the pannula's hypothesized intelligence? Where would be the harm in that? Even if the bad-tempered human's assessment was correct, it could be many, many years before anyone else happened to stumble upon the knowledge.

Could he persuade Hasa to keep silent on the matter? Jemunu-jah doubted it. It was likely that such a momentous discovery would mean that honors would be bestowed on the human by his own kind. Even if the Deyzara did not entirely believe it, it was reasonable to assume that Masurathoo would eventually support the human's contentions, if only for the effect it would have on any Sakuntala uprising. Jemunu-jah had no quarrel with that. He also wanted to see an end to the conflict. But did he want to see it enforced, on some of his own admittedly misguided people, by Commonwealth weapons?

Ancient emotions stirred within him, his mind and heart boiling with conflict. He could save injudicious Sakuntala youth from assault by intervening Commonwealth forces and protect the paramouncy of his kind in the eyes of the Commonwealth government. All he had to do was kill his two companions. Masurathoo would be easy. Jemunu-jah knew he could take the Deyzara apart with his bare hands. Seeing to the demise of the feral human would be more difficult but should still be achievable. Only one thing held him back.

He was supposed to be civilized now.

Murdering his companions would not be the civilized thing to do. So what if the humans interceded to stop the misguided uprising of the radicals among his own kind? Did he not seek the same end? Few, if any, of those involved were likely to be of his own clan. That realization, at least, placed his simmering thoughts well within tradition. Let the humans shoot a few wild-eyed members of opposing clans. From the standpoint of custom, that would be all to the good.

As to his people suffering a lessening of importance in the eyes of the Commonwealth while it strove to understand and assist the pannula, where was the harm in that? Would it not be offset by the increased aid and attention the Commonwealth would bring to Fluva?

He was torn. His heart told him to kill, his mind to participate. Maybe the destiny of the Sakuntala did not rest in his hands, but their immediate prospects did. It was a responsibility he had not asked for and did not want.

“You are become awfully quiet,” Masurathoo murmured through his speaking trunk.

A single strike to the back of that naked fleshy skull, Jemunu-jah thought. Then a quick push and the oblivious Deyzara would topple over the edge of the porch to land in the water. Waiting scavengers would make quick work of the body.

Jemunu-jah found himself wrestling harder with his own inner demons than ever he had with a clan opponent.

As he trundled through the village along the crude network of walkways suspended above the water, Hasa groused silently at the time it was taking for deliverance to arrive. He'd have a word or two for the crew of the rescuing craft, and they wouldn't be pretty. A pair of villagers going the other way greeted him with the respect due an honored guest. He snapped out a terse Sakuntala greeting, indifferent to whether they understood him or not. Damn stinking aborigines—he'd be more than glad to get back to Taulau and what passed for civilization on this miserable soggy pustulant tumor of a world.

Even his rivals, of whom there were many, would have to fete him when he announced his findings. Identifying potentially useful botanicals was one thing. Discovering a new intelligent species was several orders of magnitude more significant. While the immediate financial returns might not be as quick in coming, the recognition should lead to a flurry of opportunities. At the very least, he would be generally anointed the leading bioprospector on Fluva. Large companies and trading houses would seek out his advice, for which he could charge, and would be eager to employ him at extravagant rates. Furthermore, the discovery of the pannula would bring more such enterprises to Fluva. He intended to milk his finding shamelessly and methodically for all it was worth. Of course, even though they continued to express skepticism of his conclusions, he would be legally obligated to share the forthcoming plenty with Masurathoo and Jemunu-jah.

Unless . . .

It would be terrible if they failed to return. A real tragedy. No doubt there would be much high-throated keening among Jemunu-jah's clan and corresponding nauseating trunk blowing by Masurathoo's relations if both of them vanished in the Viisiiviisii. That would be too, too bad. He would be forced to deal with the glory and prospects raised by the discovery of the pannula all by himself. Could one person handle so much fame and wealth?

Though it might take some effort, he was convinced that he could.

There was a problem, however. Though simple, unsophisticated folk who had little contact with civilization, the local villagers had seen him arrive in the company of two ostensibly healthy, alert companions. He doubted they would care one way or another if the Deyzara in their midst happened to vanish one day, but Jemunu-jah presented a much bigger problem. While he was not of their village or a related clan, they knew him now as a respected and highly educated member of an important and influential northern group. His sudden disappearance, coupled with that of Masurathoo, would arouse more than suspicion. They might not take any action themselves, but there was the danger that they might pass their qualms on to the rescue team. Such accusations could place him in a position sufficiently awkward that even he might not be able to find a way to wriggle free.

He cursed himself for lack of forethought. The time to have carried out such intentions would have been days earlier, when the three of them were still alone in the depths of the Viisiiviisii. But then, the members of the hunting party that had found them might not have been as inclined to assist him as they had been eager to help a fellow Sakuntala like Jemunu-jah.

Like it or not, it looked as if he was going to have to share the success that was coming his way. That left him feeling grouchy and even more out of sorts than usual. Masurathoo remarked upon it when he finally rejoined them later that afternoon. Jemunu-jah did not.

Sakuntala regarded human with unusual intensity while human gazed back with uncommon thoughtfulness. Between them, Masurathoo blithely assumed he was still among not only friends but civilized ones.

It was just as well he did not know otherwise. Already seriously stressed, his highly strung nervous system might not have been able to cope with the disclosure of his good friends' conflicted thoughts.

17

M
atthias liked the Other Place. Most eating establishments in Taulau catered to the majority Deyzara and Sakuntala. Few had the inclination and the skills to prepare food that was not only suitable for humans serving with the Commonwealth Authority but tasty as well. The Other Place (a loose transliteration of its Deyzaran name) was one of them.

The proprietor, an obsequious but highly skilled Deyzara named Agruarasa, waited on her personally. It was a point of some pride that the head of the Commonwealth Authority, the human High Hata, chose to dine in his place of business. She listened politely to the familiar stream of sycophancy that spilled from his speaking trunk along with occasional mentions of actual food and then ordered.

It would have been nice if Jack could have joined her for lunch, she mused, but the laboratory complex where he worked was located on the other side of the main port and was too far for an easy commute in the rain. Besides, he would typically be as buried in his work as she was in hers. They understood that about each other. It was one of the reasons their marriage, unlike so many on Fluva, survived.

She was not the only human in the restaurant. Unlike the rest of them, however, she chose to sit by the edge of the dining area, at a small table that overlooked the bustling, rain-washed town, instead of farther inside.

Gazing at the panorama of busy strilk-suspended businesses and homes, offices and meeting places, it was difficult to envision the brutal clash that was taking place elsewhere between harried Deyzara and persecuting Sakuntala. Precipitation ran steadily and peacefully off roofs and walkways, while pedestrians of several races wended their way to and from work and home. Skimmers dropped off travelers and made deliveries. Harmless winged gerulenk and gaseous totolu soared or floated peacefully among walkways, buildings, fungi-infested trees, and pylons. It was all very civilized and serene. A Commonwealth-sponsored facade, she knew, that masked the deeper troubles that bubbled and boiled just outside the town limits.

Hanging from the sloping ceiling (there were no flat ceilings in downpour-drenched Taulau or anywhere else on Fluva), cages full of domesticated varisanu steeped the restaurant in song. In addition to their own inborn harmonic repertoire, the fist-size, sparkle-throated varisanu could mimic any music they heard following a single listening. All four hirsute wings unfurled, red eyes bobbing at the tips of short stalks, one nearby blue-and-gold individual was presently declaiming a superb, if muted, rendition of the princess's final aria from Act Two of
Turandot
. In the same cage, an equally attractive yellow-and-lavender specimen was tootling its way through an entire cycle of atonal Deyzaran folk songs. The consequent counterpoint, she reflected, would have seriously strained the descriptive abilities of the most egalitarian music pundit.

Her server was a senior Deyzara. Less susceptible to mold and rust than a mechanical, the live waiter was also cheaper to operate in Fluva's remorselessly damp climate. Matthias accepted the food appreciatively and was about to begin eating when a visitor intruded on her vision.

Looking up, she found a short, slim man with a mournful expression gazing down at her. She decided he could not have weighed much more than fifty kilos. His hair was thin, blond, and receding. He looked to be about thirty. Worn down early, she concluded. One of those sad individuals who found themselves peeled prematurely off the roll of Life.

“Sorry to break in on your lunch, Administrator Matthias.” He spared a furtive glance for the other occupants of the dining area. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Here?” She forked food, chewed calmly. Whatever else the man was, he did not appear threatening. “Why not make an appointment with my office?”

“Kind of in a hurry. Don't like formalities.” He cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the other chair. “May I? I think it's important.”

She sighed inwardly. One of the main drawbacks to being in charge of everything was never having any privacy. People were always confronting you with complaints, suggestions, requests, demands, angry objections to something you'd just done or were going to do or hadn't even contemplated. It went with the job. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long for her uninvited guest to have his say.

“Clifford Kamis,” he was saying as he slipped into the chair. “You can call me Clif.”

She mustered a smile. “Nice to meet you, Clif. I'm afraid I can't talk to you for very long. I don't get much time to myself, you see, and—”

“I'll be real brief,” he assured her, interrupting. “It's about those two skimmers that went missing.”

She hesitated with a full fork halfway to her lips, carefully set it back down on the rectangular Deyzaran serving tray. “What about them?”

He stole another glance at the busy dining room. “Everybody's talking about them, but nobody seems to know much of anything.”

“And you do—Clif?” She was watching him intently now, her rapidly cooling lunch temporarily forgotten.

He looked away and shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe. Maybe not. It's just something I seen. I work graveyard cleanup at the port, Administrator.”

She nodded understandingly. He had her full attention. “Go on, Clif. Don't worry. Anything you say to me here stays with me, and is between you and me alone.”

He was appropriately encouraged. “People are whispering that they didn't come back 'cause they were sabotaged. Talk is that the Deyzara is responsible. Me, I don't see how the two-trunks could bring off something like that. Seems to me you got to really know your way around the insides of a skimmer's instrumentation to bring off something like that, you know?”

Folding her arms, she leaned forward and rested them on the table. “You don't think the Deyzara did it?”

“What for?” He looked out over the town, into the steadily increasing downpour that had replaced much of the original view with a palisade of drumming gray. “I mean, what would the two-trunks get out of it? Especially if they were found out and held to blame. A few folks, they're saying that the Sakuntala did it and are making it to look like the Deyzara are responsible. Now, that makes more sense to me, 'cause right now the Sakuntala need to make the Deyzara look as bad as possible, so's to help justify what their trigger-happy warriors are doing to the two-trunks.” He shook his head, lips tightening. “But I've never seen any Sakuntala messing around with skimmers they weren't using. Certainly not late at night, when I'm doing my job. And none of the regular engineering types I've talked with know of a Sakuntala tech skilled enough to carry out that kind of advanced high-level instrumental manipulation.”

She took a sip of her drink. “There are a couple of AAnn observers here on Fluva. They might have the necessary skills.”

This time when he shook his head, it was with greater certainty. “Still need an expert authority on-site when you're doing that kind of real understated work, or so I've been told by the folks who'd know about such things. And I've sure as hell never seen no lizards sneakin' around the facility.”

She forced herself to remain patient. “If not the Deyzara, or the Sakuntala with or without AAnn assistance, then who?”

Now that the time had come to get specific, he wavered. Fighting down a paroxysm of impatience, she reminded him again that whatever he said would be held in strictest confidence. As he leaned over the table toward her, his already soft voice was tempered even further by palpable concern.

“It's just that, working late at night, there ain't a lot to see. So when there
is
something to see, you kind of take notice of it, you know? I didn't think nothing of it when I saw it. Seemed perfectly natural to me at the time. But later, afterward, after that bioprospector fella's skimmer went missing and then the rescue team's also, it kind of got me to thinking.

“See, there was this one time I saw someone working on the prospector's skimmer, real late—and it wasn't him. Next night, I hear that there had been some minor glitches in the port surveillance system. A few days later the system goes down again, for just a little while. That same time it goes down, I seen the same guy working on the skimmer that goes out with the rescue team. Both times, the guy doing the work didn't notice me.” He smiled wanly. “I'm not a real noticeable type, you know? I don't stand out. And I don't move around too much or make much noise when I'm doing my work. Took me a while to put everything together.” He shrugged again.

“Course, it might not mean a damn thing. Just struck me as a couple of funny coincidences, that's all. The same guy working on both skimmers on the same nights port surveillance goes on the fritz.” He eyed her earnestly. “What do you think, Administrator? Am I wasting your time?”

She sucked in her breath. “No, Clif, I don't think you're wasting my time. I don't think you're wasting my time at all. One thing I don't understand is, why bring this to me? Why not report it to Port Security?”

He looked away, clearly ill at ease. “Well, it's like, I don't know the guys who work security all that well. And I'm thinking, what if one of them is working with this guy I seen, to help cover what he's doing? Maybe the security guy is taking down the surveillance system while his buddy is doing whatever it is he was doing to those two missing skimmers? What if they're working something together?”

That could certainly explain, she realized, why the Port Security crew had not been able to come up with any useful information to pass along to her office. “Would,” she asked her guest with studied deliberation, “you be able to recognize the individual you saw working on both of the missing skimmers if you saw him again?”

“Oh, hell, I don't need to look at a holo of him. I know the guy. He's in and out of the port all the time, checking out and working on his own skimmer, always making sure it's operational and ready to go. Seen him working late lots of other times. I'm told he's a bioprospector also.”

That would make sense, she knew. Someone with a skimmer based at the port wouldn't arouse suspicion when he entered and left the facility, even at odd hours. It shouldn't be too hard for a patrol to pick him up. There weren't that many independent bioprospectors working out of Taulau.

“Give me his name. Don't worry. Whatever happens, your involvement won't be brought up.”

Kamis grinned softly. The more she talked with him, the more she liked the soft-spoken little man. “Don't care about him. Don't care if he knows or not. It's the guy I don't know, the security guy who might be helping him out, who worries me.”

“I'll see to it that you're given protection. Discreet, of course. Just give me a name. I've met a couple, but by no means all, of the bioprospectors who work out of Taulau.”

He met her gaze unflinchingly. “You know one named Sethwyn Case?”

At his intolerable, excruciatingly painful words, more than her appetite summarily drained away. Nausea rose in her gut. She felt suddenly queasy. Hardly touched, the meal laid out before her had abruptly taken on the look and smell of warmed-over offal. Exerting a tremendous effort of will, she took a long swallow of her chilled drink without her hand shaking. In contrast, every bit of her insides seemed to be trembling.

“Are you sure you're not, not mistaken in your identification, Clif? I'm certain you realize how important this is, what you're telling me. You need to be very, very sure.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” he told her without the slightest hesitation. “It was Seth Case, all right. Both times. Unlike me, the guy's pretty distinctive-looking.” He peered a little closer at her. “Is he one of the prospectors you know?”

“Yes.” She was having a difficult time breathing. “Yes, he's one of the ones I know.”

“You okay, Administrator?” Kamis looked suddenly alarmed. “You don't look so good.”

“Swallowed some juice the wrong way. I'm all right, Clif. I'm just wondering. As long as we're talking about this. What reason could Mr. Case have for sabotaging those two skimmers? What possible motive could he have?”

Kamis sat back in his chair. “Hey, that's not something for someone like me to speculate on, Administrator.”

“Go ahead, Clif.” She spoke more sharply than she intended. “Go ahead and speculate.”

“Well . . .” He scratched at the fine blond hair that barely veiled the pale flesh of his skull. “You listen, you hear a lot of things around the port. There's a lot of competition among prospectors.”

“I know,” she snapped. Seeing him flinch at her tone, she hastened to reassure him. “Sorry. This is—it makes one angry, you understand?” How angry, her guest could not imagine.

“Sure, I understand. If it's true and I were in your position, I'm sure I'd feel the same way.”

You have no idea, she thought bleakly. “You were speculating?”

“Yeah. Like I said, lots of competition, to find valuable growths and stuff. I don't pretend to understand everything that's being talked about, but I understand about the competition clear enough. Everyone understands about competition.

“Case, he was pretty jealous of this Hasselemoga's successes. And this Hasa guy, I never met him, but I get the feeling he wasn't real well liked by his opposite numbers.”