“I must inform you of an extremely grave situation, Mister Joe,” he said. “Our treaty has been most grievously broken.”
Again there seemed to be a sort of grim inevitability to what Bull said next. Joe could hear it coming and do nothing to change or stop it.
“Your nasty-noisy flying machine has not only violated the border of the Coverture, it has landed in a most inconsiderate and destructive fashion, causing dreadful harm.”
Joe was fairly sure Bull didn’t understand that it had crashed. “I accept your protest, Bull,” he said in the most even tone he could manage. “I assure you it was an accident. The machine did not come down on purpose, but fell from the sky. Redress for the border violation will be made, I promise you that. But first we must find out exactly what has happened, and who is involved.”
Bull regarded him solemnly, then nodded. “That is both fair and reasonable.”
“To do that we have to raise the flitter.”
The Guy cocked his head. “Raise the flitter? Make it go up into the air once more?”
“No, I mean speak to it with our communications equipment. To do that, we have to get inside this building.” He could feel time flying by, but there was no hurrying a Guy.
“Pardon my misapprehension of your meaning, Mister Joe. Am I constituting an impediment to your going inside?”
Joe shook his head. “No, the door is locked. We can’t get in.”
Bull pondered this a moment. “So you are saying that this door presents an hindrance to an expeditious resolution of this situation?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Then it must cease.” Bull turned toward the shack, took hold of the door by burying his finger talons in the ceramaplast panel, then wrenched it off the building frame and all.
Joe made himself smile. “Thank you, Bull. That was, um, very kind of you.”
“It was nothing,” the big alien answered without a trace of irony. He turned toward Jubal. “Mister Jubal, I believe this is property of your company. Where would you like me to put it?”
Jubal gave Joe a wide-eyed glance, then gestured vaguely. “Oh, anywhere is fine, Bull. Really.”
The Guy laid the twisted, punctured panel carefully aside. “May we proceed now that our way is no longer barred?”
“We sure can,” Joe answered, motioning Jubal to go in first.
Jubal had gone immediately to the site operations communications base station and started trying to raise the flitter. After a minute or so with no results he turned the chair over to Joe and seated himself at the workstation across the narrow aisle. Slipping on a combination headset and loupe he began the process of instructing their commnav satellite orbiting overhead to locate the downed craft.
Joe had slid into the comm center chair after him, pulled on the headset and begun trying to raise the flitter. He had begun with a standard Base to flitter, but a fearful certainty as to whom he was trying to contact soon changed that to a more direct and fervent approach.
“Joe to Serena,” he called, “Come in please! Can you hear me? Please answer!” He repeated that over and over, trying to will a response. None came.
Either three minutes or three hours passed, probably the former but it felt like the latter. Just as he heard Jubal mutter, “OK, I think I’ve got you now,” a crackle of static lanced into his earpiece and came over the speaker. On the heels of that noise came a moan.
“Serena,” he said tightly, trying to remain calm. “Can you hear me? Please answer.” There was no picture on the comm’s display, but he could hear breathing. He could hear breathing!
Another moan, then a cough. “Hi, Joe.” More coughing, then the sound of her hawking and spitting. “Sorry.”
“It’s OK. Are you hurt?”
A few seconds hesitation. “ ’Fraid so,” she admitted at last.
He swallowed hard. “How badly?”
“Bad enough. One leg is broken in a couple places and the other one is really messed up. I had kind of a rough landing. Me and this crate both got pretty trashed.” She coughed again. There was a wet, bubbling undertone to it that made his shiver. “I think maybe I’ve got a couple broken ribs jammed into one lung, and I can’t feel much of anything from the waist down.” She spat. “But that’s not what’s really worrying me. It’s that other thing.”
“What’s that?” he asked tonelessly.
“The imar staring at me through the canopy. I figure it’s an imar because a Guy would’ve said hi. Now I’m no expert, but I’ve got this bad feeling that he might just be looking me over and thinking about lunch.”
“Hang in there a minute,” Joe replied in a flat voice. “I’ve got to go off, but I’ll be right back. OK?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered with a phlegmy chuckle. “I’ll see if I can get the pictup working.”
“That’s great, Serena. You do that.”
He covered the headset’s mike with his hand and turned toward Jubal and Bull. “Now what?”
“Human flesh is inedible to an imar,” Bull answered in a serious tone. “Eating any will make it sick.”
“That’s a relief,” Joe breathed.
Bull shook his head. “Regretfully I must inform you that it can only learn this the hard way, by eating some and getting quite ill.”
“Oh man,” Joe groaned, feeling sick himself. “Jubal? Any ideas?”
The factor glanced back at the workstation screens. “I got a lock on her. The flitter went down about twenty klicks into the Coverture, say forty klicks from here. We’ve got a gatherer maybe two from the border in that general area. It could get to her in maybe two hours if we were lucky, but she doesn’t sound in any shape to get herself out of the wreck and into it.”
Bull shook his head. “No gatherer may enter the Coverture. That is forbidden under our treaty.”
Joe never got a chance to argue this pronouncement because Frank finally turned up, bursting in at a dead run and squeezing past Bull with a scowl.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he puffed.
“Serena crashed the flitter,” Joe began, “And she’s—”
“Dumb fuckin’ princess,” Frank sneered, all trace of his posh accent gone. “I told her she couldn’t, but I guess when Daddy owns the company the rules don’t apply.” He jerked his thumb at Jubal. “Out. I’m taking over. I don’t get her body back her father will have my nuts in a vice.”
“She’s badly hurt but still alive,” Jubal explained, vacating the chair at the workstation.
Testa stared at him a moment. “Rich and lucky,” he growled. “Must be nice.”
Jubal shook his head. “I wouldn’t call her that. She’s got an imar giving her the eye.”
Testa hesitated for a second, his face going absolutely blank, then took the chair. “You two stay out of my hair and fuck with the imar,” he snarled, jamming the headset on and turning away. “I’ll work on hauling her useless ass out of there.”
Joe turned back toward the comm-board and uncovered the mike. “Serena? You still with us?”
“Still here. I think I’ve almost got—oh boy, that hurts. OK. Got a picture now?”
“I do,” Joe answered, his insides clenching with the effort it took to keep the dismay he felt off his face. She was a mess. Her face was cut and bloody, one eye swollen shut. Fresh red blood marked her mouth and nostrils, dripped from her chin.
“Not too pretty, huh?”
“You look just fine, Serena.”
“You should get out more.” She grimaced. “I should get out less. Remember me saying I wanted to know everything? Well, I have learned something new.”