“And you didn’t know what happened to Rekchellet until afterward,” Janice remarked. The Samian seemed, if anything, grateful for the change of subject; Hugh felt he would have a lot to ask S’Nash at their next meeting.
“Yes. I am friendly with many of the local Habras, just as you are, and had asked them to help me keep in touch with Ennissee whenever he was in the neighborhood. Some of them helped when we brought the frozen body back by air. The truck has never been very far from Pitville; Ennissee set up the autodriver and its record after he decided we were ready to get you people out to his dig and display the first body.”
“You got it that long ago?”
“Oh, yes. Several years. He was going to show you the mole, and all the other specimens he had collected, and his records — everything, he told me. That was why I was so upset when the mole was destroyed, and begged so hard for the material to be taken here for Janice to examine. How did he actually get the specimen? You say it’s faked somehow?”
“Yes. You’ve wandered off the question of how you found out about Rekchellet.”
“Oh. Sorry. When Ennissee asked them to help him take Rek’s translator and tracker, they complied because it seemed to fit my request but weren’t really happy about it. They decided to watch Rek, too. Unfortunately, only one of them at a time did this while the others reported back to me. She saw the two Crotonites leave the truck, followed them, saw them land together, and then start to fly once more with Ennissee drawing ahead. My instructions had been to watch Ennissee, so she lost track of Rekchellet fairly soon. However, she had a very good idea of his actual path. She also knew just what he was wearing and carrying, so that she knew what he — well, about the only word is ‘looked’ like to Habra electrical senses. She was in your search group, not by chance I assure you; I had managed to get instructions to my people by then. She was responsible for the change in search pattern which bothered you, I gather, but which resulted in Rekchellet’s being found.”
“Why didn’t she just tell the story? We could have concentrated on the right area much sooner.”
“She wanted to, and was bothered by the conflicting requests. She didn’t have a clear idea of what was going on, and did not want to upset either your plans or mine.”
“She’s one of my people, too?”
“Yes. Holly. A very capable person. You should tell your assistants more of the background when you have them out on missions. She could have decided much more quickly and easily.”
“But if Ennissee wanted Rek found while he was still alive to serve as a test subject for the Naxians, he must have made some such arrangement, too. Didn’t you know about that?”
“Of course not. I knew nothing about his plans then, or about what happened to Rekchellet after he and Ennissee separated until you told me you were looking for him. Then I got word to Holly through other Habras. Now let’s get back to my question, please. How was that primitive specimen made, if it wasn’t real?”
“It’s an experimental tissue culture from the Naxian bio lab, part of their early work toward repairing Habras. Chen didn’t know how Ennissee got hold of it, but he’d been up there finding out about their repair methods, remember. Maybe seeing that thing scared him enough to make him unwilling to take a chance on being the first Crotonite to go through the line.”
“Maybe. If that’s so, maybe he did want Rek found, too, after he’d been fairly well frozen, as you say, and would have made sure it happened even if I hadn’t. We’ll really have to talk to that (no-symbol-equivalent). But you should have told Holly and the others…”
“You should. She knew we were looking for Rek, and that he might be in danger. Your secrecy was unimportant compared…”
“Save it. please. Cultured Beings,” Janice cut in. “We have most of the picture now, and blame doesn’t seem useful. It’s happened, and at the moment Ged seems to be suffering most. He no longer has a subject for his paper, which means quite a lot to him, I gather.”
“It shouldn’t take a Naxian to tell you that,” admitted Barrar.
“It didn’t. S’Nash isn’t here, for once,” answered Hugh.
“I know. It/he is here, to help me compare earlier duty arrangements with the ones I’m trying to set up. I thought some time ago it was time to put his communication and recording specialties to work, instead of using him mostly on safety watch, but he couldn’t get to me until now. I’ll have to pin its/his schedule down more firmly.”
“Leaving, I hope, some spaces in your own,” keyed Hugh. “I did suggest to Chen that she and her friend might recover grace by helping you rebuild the mole. And who is on watch? My own job screen, which I thought I’d made out myself, shows blank for the next sixty hours.”
“That’s one of the things I’ve been rearranging. Get some sleep. You start sentry in two and a half hours. Janice, I’m not scheduling you; I assume you’re planning lab work around your own need for sleep, and I don’t have you posted for anything else. If the two of you will let me get back to work, we can talk later.” The communication panel went blank, and Hugh’s schedule screen suddenly filled.
“For once, I hope watch stays boring,” Hugh said slowly. “There’s too much here for me to get straight all at once. I wish I didn’t have to fill my mental chart one box at a time.”
“Don’t change. At least, don’t turn Locrian. I prefer mammals. And don’t let it keep you awake,” replied his wife. “Get that sleep Ged advised. I’m going back to the lab.”
She turned toward the door, but lingered while Hugh thought for a moment, then recorded a message to Barrar, to be taken at the latter’s convenience. She listened with interest.
“Remember the submarine fossil hunt. I have contacts, if you want.” Janice grinned and left.
No one was surprised that Ged did want, or that he scheduled Hugh for contact with the submarine group a very small fraction of a year later. For once, the latter spent no time wondering whether he should get rid of the diving juice. There had been some sort of breakthrough in Habra armor design, and he would, he hoped, have to be back in Pitville fairly soon to train native Pit workers. Janice, the Cold Pole material all dated and her regular work back at routine level, went with him.
Bill was not at sea, though about to be under it, according to the word Hugh and Janice received in Pwanpwan. There was little difficulty in confirming that the submarine he commanded was in its usual port, and with a small flyer at their complete discretion — they wondered whether Spreadsheet-Thinker knew about it — the fact that the port was a thousand kilometers farther north meant nothing. There was no such thing as a large city on the planet. Even streetless Pwanpwan could be crossed by an Erthuma on foot in an hour or two, since the winged natives had no particular reason to assemble large aggregates of dwellings. Their principal industry was agriculture. Such devices as electric or fusion powered submarines with open framework hulls made of wood or plastic were merely an adjunct to farming, and the fact that Erthumoi science historians had trouble feeling right about this made it no less true.
The Cedars decided to update initially from someone other than Shefcheeshee; it seemed a good idea to face the Cephallonian with ammunition which could provide leading questions.
Bill would not be leaving port for another twenty hours or so, and responded happily within a few minutes to Hugh’s paging. Habranha’s social amenities did not include bars or anything very similar; few intelligent flying species went far in personal use of chemicals which interfered with either sensory acuity, motor coordination, or breathing efficiency. The Erthumoi, however, had foresightedly brought snacks for themselves, and the three ate on the ice beside Bill’s ship while talking.