She was on the bridge every time Qilori came out of his trance, looking at him as if wondering what he needed a rest break for. She was there when he left for his brief sleep periods, and she was there when he returned. If the Chiss ever decided to develop mechanical robots, she would probably be the template.
But her personality defects really didn’t matter. She was here, Qilori was here, and his job was to answer her questions. “That’s what the Agbui call it,” he said. “I don’t know if the word means anything in their language or is just a pair of random syllables.”
“What do the natives call it?”
“There aren’t any,” Qilori said. “No natives, no colonists, not even any observation bases. The Agbui wouldn’t be here if they thought they were intruding on someone else’s territory.” He offered her a small smile. “They’re very conscientious about such things.”
If she was impressed by Agbui conscientiousness, she didn’t show it. “You’ve been here more than once, I gather?”
“A few times, yes,” he said. Actually, of course, he’d never even seen the place before today. “It was Haplif’s turn—let me see—about ten months ago to come by to drop off supplies for the workers and collect the processed metal strands to take for his own group and any others who might happen to pass nearby. Like this freighter just did with Haplif’s group.”
“So there aren’t any regular supply runs?”
“I don’t think anything down there is that organized,” Qilori said. “But to be honest, I really don’t know. I’ve gone outside to look around a couple of times, but I frankly prefer the cleanliness of a ship to the untidiness of planetary life.”
“How long have the Agbui been coming here?” Lakjiip asked. “Specifically, how long have they been working these mines?”
“I don’t know,” Qilori said. “Long enough to erect a permanent settlement and a couple of electroextraction processing units. Not more than a few decades at the most, though.”
“And no one else has ever found the place?”
“There are an immense number of worlds in the Chaos,” Qilori reminded her. “This one in particular isn’t close to any of the local civilizations and is also far off the usual travel pathways. There’s really no reason for anyone to come here.”
“Except cultural nomads seeking knowledge, making new friends, and expanding the width and breadth of their lives,” Lakjiip said.
Qilori looked at her in surprise. “That’s very poetic, Senior Aide.”
“It’s what Haplif told Councilor Lakuviv when he first arrived at Redhill,” she said. “I understand the payment for your services is some of their jewelry?”
“And room and board, of course,” Qilori said, feeling his cheek winglets doing a small flutter. This was the delicate part. “Plus the chance to share in the cultural aspects of their travels.”
“Yet you rarely leave the ship,” Lakjiip said.
Qilori shrugged. “As I said, I prefer shipboard life. But I’m able to share in the various local foods they bring in, and can peruse the electronic entertainment and educational options from my quarters.”
“Mm.” Lakjiip looked back out the viewport. “There are a few things I’ll want to check when we get down there. Perhaps you’d be good enough to show me around.”
Qilori felt another twitch of his winglets. Showing her around a place he’d never been to. “Of course,” he said. “I’d be honored.”
Haplif had carefully and thoroughly prepped Qilori for what he’d be heading into. Even so, the Agbui settlement was surprisingly impressive.
The main part was a modest, two-story building to the left of the mine entrance, consisting of a pair of sleeping room wings attached to a combination cafeteria and relaxation center. The two ore processing plants to the right of the mine were marvels of compact design, with power and water sources off to the side and neat stacks of compacted waste material a couple of hundred meters farther on where it wouldn’t bother either the work or the workers. The mine entrance itself was built into the rock face of a mountain, the center section of a spine of volcanic peaks cutting across this part of the planet and fading into the mists in both directions. Groups of Agbui moved briskly back and forth, transferring crates of supplies from the freighter to the residence building and taking smaller crates from a storage shed near the refinery back to the ship.
Qilori had seen the maps, floor plans, and technical specs, of course. But none of them had done the place justice. If the goal had been to make it a combination of efficient, resourceful, and simple, they’d succeeded beautifully.
“At least now we know why no one else bothered with this place,” Lakjiip said from behind him.
Qilori turned. The woman was squatting down beside one of a row of bushes, peering at a shoulder-slung multi-analyzer. “Pardon?” he asked.
“The soil,” she said, straightening up and showing him the display. “Quite acidic. Too acidic for any Chiss food plant to grow. Probably equally hostile to most of the alien foodstuffs in this part of the Chaos. If the whole planet is like this, it’s useless for any large-scale colonization.”
“I assume the acidity means you can’t eat the native plants, either?”
“Probably not.” Lakjiip leaned over the bush for a closer look. “I’ll take a few samples back to Celwis, but most alien plants aren’t useful to us even when the soil is better. You did say the other nomad groups bring in supplies for the miners, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Qilori said. “Though the Agbui might have figured out how to process the local plants. Someone in the cafeteria could probably tell us.”
“Later.” Lakjiip nodded toward the mine. “I want to look in there.”
They were nearly to the mine entrance, and Qilori could see the darkened tunnel stretching back into the mountain, when an Agbui suddenly popped up in front of them. “I’m sorry, gentlebeings,” he said in a tone that made it clear he genuinely was sorry. “No outsiders are permitted in the mine. There are dangers within.”
“What kind of dangers?” Lakjiip asked.
“Those that exist in all mines,” the Agbui told her. “Unsafe footing. The chance of rocks breaking from walls and ceilings. Uncertain air, with occasional outgassings of unhealthy or even toxic fumes.”
Aboard ship, Qilori had noted that Lakjiip was accustomed to getting her own way, and for that first half second he thought she might actually demand the alien step aside. But the moment passed, and she simply nodded. “I understand,” she said. “Perhaps on my next visit.” She half turned and pointed at the refinery. “May I look in there?”
“Sadly, that area is also deemed dangerous to the unwary and unprepared.” The Agbui brightened. “But we can look in through the windows, if you’d like. I would be happy to describe to you the equipment and processes within.”
“That would be helpful,” Lakjiip said. “Lead on.”
They spent the next hour looking in through various of the refinery’s windows while the Agbui gave a running description of what his six fellows inside were doing. Lakjiip asked occasional questions but was mostly content to let him talk.
Qilori spent little of his own time on either the view or the commentary. Most of his attention was spent avoiding a group of large flying insects that seemed to have taken an interest in him. Between his furtive efforts to shoo them away, he kept a wary eye on some beady-eyed lizards squatting beneath one of the nearer bushes, creatures that also seemed inordinately interested in the strangers. It was to his immense relief when Lakjiip finally finished her inspection tour and gave him permission to return to the ship.