Planet Pirates Omnibus Part 16

"That's regulations," said Gori. "Besides, if we just hover here we can keep anyone from bothering them. By the way, d'you have the s.h.i.+elds up?"

He hadn't thought of it, and thumbed the control just as the transport's single turret angled their way. Gori was watching the plateau now, and commented on the people, clumped near the s.h.i.+p. "Native? This planet's not supposed to be inhabited at all, but - "

"They might shoot, Gori," Tim pointed out. He was glad to hear that his voice was steady, though his hands trembled slightly. He'd never expected that the mere sight of a blast cannon muzzle aimed his way would be so disturbing. Were shuttle s.h.i.+elds strong enough, at this distance, to hold against a blast cannon?

Time pa.s.sed. Down below still figures slumped in an airsled crumpled against the rocky face of the plateau. Above, the transport's blast cannon continued to point directly at them. With only two of them aboard, Tim couldn't see asking Gori to go out and check on the injured (dead? He hoped not) sled pa.s.sengers. Should he hail the transport? Command them to send medical aid? What if they didn't? What if they fired? Gori maintained a prudent silence, broken only by observations on activity around the transport. It felt like years before the com unit burped, and put the Navigation Senior Officer on the line. "Not long," Bures said. "We've got a fix on you and the transport. How's it going?"

Tim swallowed hard. "Oh . . . nothing much. We're just hovering above the sled - " "Don't move," Bures advised. "We're coming in very fast, and if you move we could run right over you."

"Where are you going to land?" But no one answered that question; the line had cut off. Gori and Tim exchanged anxious glances before settling to their watch again. Tim let his eyes stray to the clock - surely it had been longer than that.

Even through the s.h.i.+elds they heard and felt the shock-waves of the Zaid-Dayan's Zaid-Dayan's precipitous descent. "Krims!" said Gori. "She's using the emergency insystem - " Another powerful blast of wind and noise, and the great cruiser hung above the plateau, its Fleet and Federation insignia defining the bow. Clouds of dust roiled away from it, temporarily blinding Tim even in the shuttle; when it cleared, Tim could see the transport shudder at its berth. " - drive," finished Gori, paler than before. Tim, for once, said nothing. precipitous descent. "Krims!" said Gori. "She's using the emergency insystem - " Another powerful blast of wind and noise, and the great cruiser hung above the plateau, its Fleet and Federation insignia defining the bow. Clouds of dust roiled away from it, temporarily blinding Tim even in the shuttle; when it cleared, Tim could see the transport shudder at its berth. " - drive," finished Gori, paler than before. Tim, for once, said nothing.

"The only good thing about all this," said Sa.s.sinak, when they were back aboard, "is that I know you can't be a saboteur, because you weren't on board when the sabotage occurred, and it would have required immediate access. Of course you might be in collusion . . . ."

Tim tried to swallow, unsuccessfully. It wasn't that she bellowed, or turned red, the way some of his instructors had when he had been particularly difficult. She looked perfectly calm, if you didn't notice the pale rim around her mouth, or the muscles bunched along her jaw. Her voice was no louder than usual. But he had the feeling that his bones were exposed to her gaze, not to mention the daydreams in his skull . . . and they seemed a lot less glamorous right then. Even, as she said, stupid, short-sighted, rash, and unjustified. She had left them hovering where they were until the locals (whoever they were) had extricated the injured and moved them into the cruiser. Then the cruiser's own tractor beam had flicked out and towed them in as if the shuttle were powerless and pilotless. Once in the shuttle bay, they'd been ordered to their quarters until "the captain's ready for you." Gori had said nothing while they waited, and Tim had imagined himself cas.h.i.+ered and stranded on this malodorous lump of unsteady rock.

"I'll expect you to recite the relevant sections of regulations. Ensign, the next time you see me. I'm sure your cohort can give you the references." That was her only dig at Gori, who had after all been innocent. "You may return to your quarters, and report for duty at s.h.i.+ft-change." He didn't ask where: it would be posted in his file. He and Gori saluted, and retired without tripping over anything - at that point Tim was mildly surprised to find out his body worked as usual.

Curiosity returned on the way to their quarters. He looked sideways at Gori. No help there. But who were the husky, skin-clad indigenes? They had to be human, unless everything he'd been told about evolution was wrong. Why had someone built a landing grid on an uncharted planet? Who were the people in the Fleet uniforms, if they weren't from this s.h.i.+p?

Alone with Gori in their quarters, he had no one to ask. Gori said nothing, simply called up the Fleet Regulations: XXIII Edition on screen, and highlighted the pa.s.sages the captain had mentioned. The computer spat out a hardcopy, and Gori handed it to Tim. Duties, obligations, penalties ... he tried not to let it sink in, but it got past his defenses anyway. Disobeying a captain's direct order in the presence of a hostile (or presumed hostile) force was grounds for anything the captain chose to do about it, including summary execution. She could have left him there, left both of them there, including innocent Gori, if she'd wanted to, and no one in Fleet would have had a quibble.

For the first time, Tim thought about the stories he'd heard . . . why the s.h.i.+p was so long in the repair yard, what kind of engagement that had been. A colony plundered, while Sa.s.sinak did nothing, in hopes of catching more pirates later. More than two or three people had died there; she had let them die, to save others. He didn't like that a bit. Did she? The ones who'd talked about it said not, but ... if she really cared, how could she? Men and women, children, people of all sorts - rich, poor, in between - had died because she didn't do what he had done - she didn't come tearing in to save them.

Gradually, in the hollow silence between his bunk and Gori's, Tim began to build a new vision of what the Fleet really was, and what his captain had intended. What he had messed up, with his romantic and gallant nonsense. Those people in the colony had died, so that Sa.s.sinak could trace their attackers to powers behind them. Some of her crew had died, trying to save the children, and then destroy a pirate base. This very voyage probably had something to do with the same kind of trouble, and saving two lives just didn't mean that much. If he himself had been killed before his rash act - and for the first time he really faced that chilling possibility of not-being - it would have done Fleet no harm, and possibly his captain some good.

When the chime rang for duty, Tim set off for his new job (cleaning sludge from the filters) with an entirely new att.i.tude. He fully intended to become the reformed young officer the Fleet so needed, and for several hours worked diligently. No more jokes, no more wild notions: sober reality. He recited the regulations under his breath, just in case the captain should appear in this smelly little hole.

In this mood of determined obedience to nature and nature's G.o.d in the person of his captain, he didn't even smile when Jig Turner, partner in several earlier escapades, appeared in the hatchway.

"I guess you know," said Turner.

"I know if I don't finish these filters, we'll be breathing this stink."

"This isn't bad - you should smell the planet's atmosphere." Turner lounged against the bulkhead, patently idle, with the air of someone who desperately wants to tell a secret.

"You've been out?" Despite himself, Tim couldn't fail to ask that.

"Well, no. Not out exactly, but we all smelled it when they brought the injuries in. Worse than this . . . like organic lab." Turner leaned closer. "Listen, Tim - did you really fire on that transport?"

"No! I put a tractor on the airsled, that's all."

"I wish you had had blown it." blown it."

"I didn't have anything to blow it with. But why? The captain's mad enough that I caught the sled."

"D'you know what that transport was?" Of course he didn't, and he shook his head. Turner went on, lowering her voice. "Heavyworlders."

"So?"

"So think think, Tim. Heavyworlders, meatheads, in a transport - tried to tell the captain they were answering a distress beacon, but it scans like a colony s.h.i.+p. To a proscribed planet . . . which has heavyworlders on it already already."

"Huh?" He couldn't follow this. "The ones in the airsled?"

"No. The ones on the ground . . . near the transport, and getting the victims out . . . you must must have been watching, Tim, even you." have been watching, Tim, even you."

"I saw them, but they didn't look like heavyworlders . . . exactly." Now he came to think of it, they had been big and well-muscled.

"It's a heavyworlder plot plot," Turner went on quickly. "They wanted the planet - there was a mutiny, I heard, in a scouting expedition, and the heavyworlders started eating raw meat, and killed the others and ate them - "

"I don't believe it!" But he would, if he let himself think about it. Eating one sentient being had to be the same as eating another: that's why the prohibition. He'd had an aunt who wouldn't eat anything synthesized from perennial plants, on the grounds that shrubs and trees might be sentient.

"The thing is, if one heavyworlder can mutiny, why not all? There's already this bunch of them living free out there, eating meat and wearing skins - what's to stop the ones on this s.h.i.+p from going crazy, too? Maybe it's the smell in the air, or something. But a lot of us think the captain should put 'em all under guard. Think of the heavyworld marines ... we wouldn't stand a chance if they mutinied."

Tim thought about it a moment, while s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the access port back on the filter he'd just cleaned, and shook his head. "No - I can't see anyone from this s.h.i.+p turning on the captain - "

"But they could. They could be planning something right now, and if we don't warn her - "

Tim grinned. "I don't think. Turner, that the captain needs our warning to know where danger is."

"You mean you won't sign the pet.i.tion? Or come with us to talk to her?"

"No. And frankly I think you're nuts to bother her with this."

"I'm glad you think so." Commander Sa.s.sinak, Tim saw, looked as immaculate as usual, though she must have gone through the same narrow pa.s.sages that had smudged his uniform. She gave him a frosty smile, which vanished as she met Turner's eyes. "Tell me, Lieutenant Turner, did you ever happen to read the regulations on s.h.i.+pboard conspiracy?"

"No, captain, but - "

"No. Nor were you serving on this s.h.i.+p when heavyworlder marines - the very ones you're so afraid of - saved the s.h.i.+p and my life. Had they been inclined to mutiny. Lieutenant, they'd have had more than one opportunity. You exhibit a regrettable prejudice, and an even more regrettable tendency to faulty logic. The actions of heavyworlders on an exploration team more than four decades ago say nothing about the loyalty of my crew. I trust them a long sight more than I trust you - they've given me reason. I don't want to hear any more of this, or that you've been spreading such rumors. Is that clear?"

"Yes, captain." At Sa.s.s's nod. Turner hurried away. Tim stood at attention, entirely too aware of his smelly, stained hands and messy uniform. The captain's lips quirked: not a smile, but something that required control not to be.

"Learned anything. Ensign Timran?"

"Yes, captain. I ... uh ... memorized the regulations - "

"About time. As it happens, and I don't want you getting swelled head about this, things have worked out very well. From this point on, consider that you acted under orders at all times: is that clear?"

It wasn't clear at all, but he tried to conceal his confusion. His captain sighed, obviously noticing the signs, and explained. "The other s.h.i.+p, Tim, the one that appeared from the Ryxi planet, was not a pirate: it was a legal transport, on contract to supply the Ryxi, replying to a distress signal."

"Yes, captain." That was always safe, even though the rest of it made no sense at all.

"For political reasons, which you will no doubt hear discussed later, your rash intervention has turned out to benefit Fleet and the FSP. It is necessary that those outside this s.h.i.+p believe your actions were on my orders. Therefore, you are not to mention, ever, to anyone, at any time, in any place, that your actions in the shuttle were your own bright idea. You did what I told you to do - is that clear now?"

Slightly clearer, and from the tone in her voice he had better understand, with no more questions.

"I've also told Gori, and all previous comments in the files have been wiped." Which meant it was serious . . . but also that he wasn't going to have that around his neck forever. Dawning hope must have shown on his face, for hers softened slightly. "Timran, listen to me, and pay attention. You've got natural good luck, and it's priceless . . . but don't depend on it. It takes more than good luck to make admiral."

"Yes, captain. Uh - if I may - are the people all right? The ones in the airsled?"

"Yes. They're quite well, and you may even meet them someday. Just remember what I said."

"Yes, captain."

"And clean up before mess." With that she was gone, a vision of grace and authority that haunted his life for years.

Chapter Sixteen.

Sa.s.sinak returned to the bridge by way of Troop Deck, as she wanted to manage a casual encounter with the marine commander. She had already realized that the combination of events might alarm some of the crew, and inflame suspicion of heavyworlders.

She found Major Currald inspecting a rack of weapons; he gave her a somewhat abstracted nod. "Captain - if you've a moment, there's something - "

"Certainly, Major." He led the way to his office, and Sa.s.s noticed that he had seating for both heavyworlders and smaller frames. She chose neither, instead turning to look at the holos on the wall across from his desk. A team of futbal players in clean uniforms posed in neat rows, action shots of the same players splattered with mud, a much younger Currald rappelling down a cliff, two young marine officers (one of them Currald? She couldn't tell) in camouflage facepaint and a.s.sault rifles. A promotion ceremony; Currald getting his "tracks." Someone not Currald, the holo in a black frame.

"My best friend," said Currald, as her eyes fixed on that one. She turned to face him; he was looking at the holo himself. "He was killed at Jerma, in the first wave, while I was still on a down shuttle. He'd named his son after me." He cleared his throat, a ba.s.s rasp. "That wasn't what I asked to speak to you about, captain. I hesitated to come up to Main Deck and bother you, but - " He cleared his throat again. "I'm sorry to say I expect some trouble."

Sa.s.s nodded. "So do I, and I wanted to tell you first what I'm going to do." His face stiffened, the traditional heavyworlder response to any threat. "Major Currald, I know you're a loyal officer; if you'd wanted to advance heavyworlder interests at my expense, you'd have done it long before. We've discussed politics before; you know where I stand. Your troops have earned my trust, earned it in battle, where it counts. Whoever that saboteur is, I'm convinced it's not one of your people, and I'm not about to let anyone pressure me into thinking so."

He was surprised; she was a little annoyed that he had not trusted her trust. "But I know a lot of the crew think - "

"A lot of the crew don't don't think," she interrupted crisply. "They worry, or they react, but they don't think. Kipling's bunions! The heavyworlder mutiny here was forty- three years ago: before you were born, and I was only a toddler on Myriad. None of your marines are old enough to have had anything to do with that. Those greedyguts would-be colonists set out months ago - probably while we were chasing that first s.h.i.+p. But scared people put two and two together and get the Annual Revised Budget Request." At that he actually grinned, and began to chuckle. Sa.s.s grinned back at him. "I trust you, Major, and I trust you to know if your troops are loyal. You'll hear, I'm sure, that people have asked me to 'do something' - throw you all in the brig or something equally ridiculous - and I want you to know right now, before the rumors take off, that I'm not even thinking about that. Clear?" think," she interrupted crisply. "They worry, or they react, but they don't think. Kipling's bunions! The heavyworlder mutiny here was forty- three years ago: before you were born, and I was only a toddler on Myriad. None of your marines are old enough to have had anything to do with that. Those greedyguts would-be colonists set out months ago - probably while we were chasing that first s.h.i.+p. But scared people put two and two together and get the Annual Revised Budget Request." At that he actually grinned, and began to chuckle. Sa.s.s grinned back at him. "I trust you, Major, and I trust you to know if your troops are loyal. You'll hear, I'm sure, that people have asked me to 'do something' - throw you all in the brig or something equally ridiculous - and I want you to know right now, before the rumors take off, that I'm not even thinking about that. Clear?"

"Very clear, captain. And thank you. I thought... I thought perhaps you'd feel you had to make some concession. And I'd talked to my troops, the heavyworlders, and we'd agreed to cooperate with any request." Sa.s.s felt tears sting her eyes . . . and there were some who thought heavyworlders were always selfish, never able to think of the greater good. How many of them would have made such an offer, had they been innocent suspects? "You tell your troops. Major, that I am deeply moved by that offer - I respect you, and them, and appreciate your concern. But if no other good comes out of this, the rest of this crew is going to learn that we're all all Fleet: light, heavy, and in-between. And thank you." Fleet: light, heavy, and in-between. And thank you."

"Thank you you, captain."

Sa.s.sinak found the expected delegation waiting outside the bridge when she got back to the main deck. Their spokesman, 'Tenant Varhes, supervised the enlisted mess, she recalled. Their concern, he explained in a reedy tenor, was for the welfare of the s.h.i.+p. After all, a heavyworlder had already poisoned officers and crew. . . .

"A mentally imbalanced person," said Sa.s.sinak coldly, "who happened to also be a heavyworlder, poisoned officers - including the marine commander, who happens to be a heavyworlder - and crew, including some heavyworlders. Or have you forgotten that?"

"But if they should mutiny. The heavyworlders on this planet mutinied - "

"Over forty years ago, when your father was a toddler, and Major Currald hadn't been born. Are you suggesting that heavyworlders have telepathic links to unborn heavyworlders?" That wasn't logical, but neither were they, and she enjoyed the puzzlement on their faces as they worked their way through it. Before Varhes could start up again, she tried a tone of reasonableness, and saw it affect most of them. "Look here: the heavyworlders on this s.h.i.+p are Fleet Fleet - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They're our companions, they've fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that's what they had in mind. You think they're involved in sabotage on the s.h.i.+p - I'm quite sure they're not. But even so, we're taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn't make the others guilty. Suppose it's someone from Gian-IV - " a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, "would that make Varhes guilty?" - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They're our companions, they've fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that's what they had in mind. You think they're involved in sabotage on the s.h.i.+p - I'm quite sure they're not. But even so, we're taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn't make the others guilty. Suppose it's someone from Gian-IV - " a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, "would that make Varhes guilty?"

"But it's not the same," came a voice from the back of the group. "Everybody knows heavyworlders are planet pirates, and now we've found them in action - "

"Some planet pirates are heavyworlders, we suspect, and some are not - some are even Ryxi." That got a nervous laugh. "Or consider the Seti." A louder laugh. Sa.s.sinak let her voice harden. "But this is enough of this. I don't want to hear any more unfounded charges against loyal members of Fleet, people who've put their lives on the line more than once. I've already told one ensign to review the regulations on conspiracy, and I commend them to each of you. We have real hostiles out there, people: real would-be planet pirates, who may have allies behind them. We can't afford finger-pointing and petty prejudices among ourselves. Is that quite clear?" It was; the little group melted away, most of them shamefaced and clearly regretting their impetuous actions. Sa.s.s hoped they'd continue to feel that way.

Back on the bridge, Sa.s.s reviewed the status of the various parties involved. The heavyworld transport's captain had entered a formal protest against her action in "interfering with the attempt to respond to a distress beacon." Her eyebrows rose. The only distress beacon in the story so far had been at the Ryxi planet, the beacon that had sent Mazer Star Mazer Star on its way here. The heavyworlder transport had run past there like a gra.s.s fire in a windstorm. Now what kind of story could he have concocted, and what kind of faked evidence would be brought out to support it? She grinned to herself; this was becoming even more interesting than before, The "native" heavyworlders, descendants of the original survey and exploration team ... or at least of the mutineers of that team . . . were mulling over the situation but keeping their distance from the cruiser. The transport's captain had kept in contact with them by radio, however. on its way here. The heavyworlder transport had run past there like a gra.s.s fire in a windstorm. Now what kind of story could he have concocted, and what kind of faked evidence would be brought out to support it? She grinned to herself; this was becoming even more interesting than before, The "native" heavyworlders, descendants of the original survey and exploration team ... or at least of the mutineers of that team . . . were mulling over the situation but keeping their distance from the cruiser. The transport's captain had kept in contact with them by radio, however.

The Mazer Star Mazer Star, supply s.h.i.+p for the Ryxi colony, had managed to contact the survivors who'd been in cold-sleep. So far their statements confirmed everything on the distress beacon, with plenty of supporting detail. A mixed exploration team, set down to survey geological and biological resources - including children from the EEC survey vessel, the ARCT-10, that had carried them, highly unusual. Reversion of the heavyworlder team members to carnivory - their subsequent mutiny - murder, torture of adults and children - their attempt to kill all the lightweights by stampeding wildlife into the camp. The lightweights' successful escape in a life-boat to a seacliff cave, and their decision to go into coldsleep and await the ARCT-10's return.

Sa.s.s ran through the computer file Captain G.o.dheir had transferred, explaining everything from the original mixup that had led the Ryxi to think the human team had been picked up by the ARCT-10, to the Mazer Star's Mazer Star's own involvement, after a Thek intrusion. Thek! Sa.s.s shook her head over that; this had been complicated enough before; Thek were a major complication in themselves. G.o.dheir's story, unlike that of the heavyworlder Captain Cruss, made perfect (if ironic) sense, and his records checked out clean with her on-board databanks. own involvement, after a Thek intrusion. Thek! Sa.s.s shook her head over that; this had been complicated enough before; Thek were a major complication in themselves. G.o.dheir's story, unlike that of the heavyworlder Captain Cruss, made perfect (if ironic) sense, and his records checked out clean with her on-board databanks. Mazer Star Mazer Star was in fact listed as one of three shuttle-supply s.h.i.+ps on contract to a Ryxi colony in this system. She frowned at the personnel list G.o.dheir had transferred, of the expedition members stranded after the mutiny. Lunzie? It couldn't be, she thought - and yet it wasn't a common name. She'd never run into another Lunzie. Medic, age 36 elapsed - and what did that mean? Then she saw the date of birth, and her breath quickened. By date of birth this woman was ancient - impossibly old - and yet - Sa.s.s fed the ID data into the computer, and told Com to ready a low-link to Fleet Sector Headquarters. About time the Admiral knew what had happened, and she was going to need a lot of information. Starting with this. was in fact listed as one of three shuttle-supply s.h.i.+ps on contract to a Ryxi colony in this system. She frowned at the personnel list G.o.dheir had transferred, of the expedition members stranded after the mutiny. Lunzie? It couldn't be, she thought - and yet it wasn't a common name. She'd never run into another Lunzie. Medic, age 36 elapsed - and what did that mean? Then she saw the date of birth, and her breath quickened. By date of birth this woman was ancient - impossibly old - and yet - Sa.s.s fed the ID data into the computer, and told Com to ready a low-link to Fleet Sector Headquarters. About time the Admiral knew what had happened, and she was going to need a lot of information. Starting with this.

"Captain?" That was Borander, on the pinnace, with a report of the airsled victims' condition.

"Go ahead."

"The woman is conscious now; the medics have cleared her for transport. The man is still out, and they want to package him first."

"Have you had a contact from their base?"

"No, captain."

"You may find them confused, remember, and not just by a knock on the head. Don't argue with them; try to keep them calm until you get a call from their base, or our medical crew gets to them." The message relayed from G.o.dheir was that both crew were barriered by an Adept, and thought they were members of a Fleet cruiser's crew. They'd be more than a little surprised to find themselves in a different cruiser, Sa.s.s thought, particularly if the barriers had been set with any skill.

And one of these was the team co-leader - essentially the civilian authority of the entire planet. Governor? Sa.s.s wondered what she was like, and decided she'd better be set up for a formal interview just in case. Some of these scientist types didn't think highly of Fleet. She signalled for an escort, then went to her office, and brought up all the screens. One showed the pinnace just landing, and when she plugged in her earpiece, Borander told her that a message had just come from the survivor's base for the woman. Sa.s.s approved a transfer, and watched on the screen as Borander and his pilot emerged to give their pa.s.senger privacy. She presumed that the unconscious man was in the rear compartment, with a medic. When the woman - Varian, Sa.s.s reminded herself - came out, she seemed to be a vigorous, competent sort. She was certainly used to having her own way, for she took one look around and began to argue with Borander about something. Sa.s.s wished she'd insisted on an open channel between them, but she hadn't expected that anything much would happen. Now she watched as the argument progressed, with hand-waving and head-shaking and - by the expressions - raised voices. She pressed a b.u.t.ton, linking her to the bridge, and said "Com, get me an audio of channel three."

" - Nothing to do with Aygar and anyone in his generation or even his parents'." The woman's voice would have been rich and melodic if she hadn't been angry - or stressed by the crash, Sa.s.s reminded herself. She followed the argument with interest. Borander let himself be overwhelmed - first by the woman's vehemence, and then by her claim of precedence as planetary governor. Not, Sa.s.s was sorry to notice, by her chain of logic, which was quite reasonable. She shook her head at the screen, disappointed - she'd thought Borander had more backbone. Of course the woman was right: the descendants of mutineers were not themselves guilty, and he should have seen that for himself. He should also have foreseen her claim of authority, and avoided the direct confrontation with it. Most of all, Fleet officers shouldn't be so visibly nervous about their captains' opinion - acting that way in a bar, as an excuse not to get into a row, was one thing, but here it made him look weak - never a good idea. How could she help him learn that, without losing all his confidence - because he didn't seem to have much.

So, Co-leader Varian wanted to bring both those young heavyworlders into her office and argue their case right away, did she? She was no doubt primed for an argument with a boneheaded Fleet battleaxe . . . Sa.s.s grinned to herself. Varian might be a planetary governor, of sorts, but she didn't know much about tactics. Not that she planned to be an enemy. She followed their progress up the ramp and through the s.h.i.+p, but by the time they appeared outside her office, she was waiting to greet them. As she stood and shook hands with Varian, she saw the younger woman's eyes widen slightly. Whatever she'd thought a cruiser captain was like, this was clearly not it ... Not the old ... Not the old battleaxe you expected, hmm battleaxe you expected, hmm? thought Sa.s.s. Nor the office you expected? For Varian's eyes had lingered on the crystal sculpture, the oiled wood desk with its stunning pattern of dark red and black graining, the rich blue carpet and white seating. Sa.s.s gave the two young heavyworlders a polite greeting. One of them - Winral? - seemed almost dazed by his surroundings, very much the country cousin lost in a world of high technology. The other, poised between hostility and intelligent curiosity, was a very different order of being indeed. If there were wild humans, Sa.s.s thought, as there are wild and domestic kinds of some animals, this would be a wild one. All the intelligence, but untamed. as there are wild and domestic kinds of some animals, this would be a wild one. All the intelligence, but untamed. On top of that, he was handsome, in a rough-cut way. On top of that, he was handsome, in a rough-cut way.

She continued with pleasantries, offering a little information, feeling out the three of them. Varian relaxed quickly once she realized Sa.s.sinak intended no harm to the innocent descendants of the mutineers. Clearly she felt at home in civilized surroundings and had not gone native. Varian wanted to know the location of the ARCT-10, of course.

"That's another good question to which I have no answer," Sa.s.s told her, and explained that she'd initiated a query. It hadn't been listed as destroyed, and no distress beacon had shown up, but it might take days to figure out what might have happened. Then she turned to Aygar, and asked for his personal identification - which he gave as a pedigree. Typical, she thought, for the planet-born: you are who your parents were. Fleet personnel gave s.h.i.+p and service history; scientists, she'd heard, gave university affiliation and publications. Winral's pedigree, when he gave it, contained some of the same names . . . and after all the mutineers had been few. They'd probably worked to avoid inbreeding, especially if they weren't sure how long it would be before a colony s.h.i.+p joined them. Or if one would come at all.

When she began to review the legal status of the younger heavyworlders, Varian interrupted to insist that the planet did, indeed, have a developing sentient species. Sa.s.s let her face show surprise, but what she really felt was consternation. Things had been complicated enough before, with the contending claims of mutiny, mining rights, developmental rights derived from successful settlement - and the Theks' intervention. But all rules changed when a planet had a sentient or developing sentient native species. She was well-read in s.p.a.ce law - all senior officers were - but this was more than a minor complication - and one she could not ignore.

Avian, too, Varian told her. Sa.s.s thought of the Ryxi, volatile and vain, and decided to keep all mention of Varian's flyers off the common communication links. At least the Ryxi weren't as curious as they were touchy - they wouldn't come winging by just to see what the excitement was all about.

Aygar, meanwhile, wanted to insist that the heavyworlders at the settlement owned the entire planet - and could grant parts of it to the colonists in that transport if they wanted to. Sa.s.sinak found herself enjoying his resistance, though she made it clear that under Federation law his people could not claim anything but what they had developed: the mine, the fields, the landing grid. And she strongly advised him to have nothing more to do with the heavyworlder transport, if he wanted to avoid suspicion of a conspiracy.

When she offered him her hand, at the conclusion of the interview, she wondered if he'd try to overwhelm her. If he was as smart as he looked - as he must be to have accomplished what the reports said - he would restrain himself. And so he did. His grip on her hand was only slightly stronger than hers on his, and he released her hand without attempting a throw. She smiled at him, well-pleased by his manner, and made a mental note to try recruiting him for Fleet duty. He'd make a terrific marine, if he could discipline himself like that. She explained that she'd be sending over data cubes on FSP law, standard rights and responsibilities of citizens.h.i.+p, the sections on colony law, and so on, and that she'd supply certain items from the s.h.i.+p's stores under the s.h.i.+pwreck statutes. Then the two heavyworlders were gone, with an escort back to the outside, and she turned her attention back to Varian.

Varian would clearly rather have left with the heavyworlders, and Sa.s.s wondered about that. Why was she being so protective? Most people in her position would, Sa.s.s thought, have been more ready to see all the heavyworlders in irons. Had she formed some kind of attachment? She watched the younger woman's face as she settled into one of the chairs. "A rather remarkable specimen, that Aygar. Are there more like him?" She let her voice carry more than a hint of sensuality, and watched a flush spread across Varian's cheek. So ... did she really think older women had no such interests, or was it jealousy?

"I've only encountered a few of his generation - "

"Yes, generation." Sa.s.sinak decided to probe a little deeper. "You're now forty-three years behind your own. Will you need counseling? For yourself or the others?" She knew they would, but saw Varian push that possibility away. Did she not realize the truth, or was she unwilling to show weakness in front of a stranger?

"I'll know when I get back to them," Varian was saying. "The phenomenon hasn't caught up with me yet."

Sa.s.sinak thought it had, at least in part, but admired the woman for denying it. And what was this going to do to Lunzie? Somehow she wasn't nearly as worried about her. Varian asked again about the ARCT-10, as if Sa.s.sinak would have lied in the first place. A civilian response, Sa.s.s thought: she never lied without a good reason, and usually managed without needing to. Someone came in to report that Varian's sled had been repaired, and Sa.s.s brought the interview to a close. Supplies - of course, a planetary governor could requisition anything she required - just contact Ford. Sa.s.s knew he would be glad for a chance to get off the plateau and see some of the exotic wildlife. But now ...

"Your medic's name is Lunzie, isn't it?" she asked. Varian, slightly puzzled, nodded. Sa.s.s let her grin widen, enjoying the bombsh.e.l.l she was about to drop. "I suppose it was inevitable that one of us would encounter her. A celebration is in order. Will you convey my deepest respects to Lunzie?" Varian's expression now almost made her burst out laughing: total confusion and disbelief. "I cannot miss the chance to meet Lunzie," Sa.s.s finished up. "It isn't often one gets the chance to entertain one's great-great-great grandmother." Varian's mouth hung slightly open, and her eyes were glazed. Gotcha, thought Sa.s.s wickedly, and in the gentlest possible tones asked one of the junior officers to escort Varian to her sled.

Nothing wrong with that young woman that seasoning wouldn't cure, but - Sa.s.s chuckled to herself - it was fun to outwit a planetary governor. Even one who'd had a concussion. She followed Varian's progress through the s.h.i.+p, and was pleased to note that shock or not, she remembered to check on her crewmate. When Med queried, with a discreet push of b.u.t.tons, Sa.s.s acknowledged and approved his leaving with Varian. Varian, she suspected, never considered that he might have been held.

Ford appeared, and shook his head at her expression. "Captain, you look entirely too pleased about something."