Drowning World (12 page)

“First things first. The situation continues to evolve rapidly and unpredictably. I have already relayed a space-minus communication to my superiors and am awaiting a response. I can't do anything more until that's received.” This did not satisfy the apprehensive pair, but they could think of no hard objection to raise. The Deyzara understood procedure.

Relieved by the ensuing silence, Matthias turned to the Hata. “Meanwhile, I expect the Sakuntala hierarchy to do everything in its power to curb ongoing hostilities and to try to rein in the more extreme elements among the clans.”

“This we already doing,” Naneci-tok replied, “and not because of human directive. Is presently much confusion among my people.” Raptor eyes flashed. “Real danger is that young ones are swept up in fervor and excitement of upheaval. Fighting is to Sakuntala what breathing is to others. Spirit moves body; body forgets brain.” She looked genuinely uncomfortable. “At such times is hard to speak reason to young ones. When mouth is wide open and screaming, makes hearing difficult.”

“I know that the Hatas will do their best.” Matthias found herself sympathizing with the visibly distressed female. No such sympathy flowed from the furious Deyzara as they rose to depart and communicate the results of the meeting to their people.

Alone again in the office, Matthias turned to watch the rain falling outside the window. For the moment, she had done all she could. Despite what she had told the Deyzara, she doubted authorization would be forthcoming from Earth or Hivehom for the use of weapons in support of the Deyzara and against the Sakuntala. If hundreds were being slaughtered it might be different. But in the absence of mass killings, cautious bureaucrats would want to avoid at all costs being seen as taking sides in what was inarguably a local dispute. She knew how the system worked. They would agree to provide only humanxitarian aid.

Which meant that if the Council of Hatas proved unable to control the radicals, the extremists might well succeed in their aim of getting a large number of Deyzara permanently expelled from Fluva. Could she allow that to happen? What did it matter to her? First and foremost, her job was to oversee the Commonwealth presence on the Big Wet, not to get involved in local fighting.

But it bothered her that she was being out-thought and out-maneuvered. Especially since she had no idea by whom.

At least she had succeeded in somewhat reassuring the Deyzara's representatives without riling the Sakuntala's chosen Hata. That was something. Now, if things would just calm down for a day or so and give her some time to delve a little deeper into the source of the disturbance, maybe learn what groups and individuals were behind it all, she might be able to find ways to stabilize the situation. To induce, for example, some of the less unruly Sakuntala to give up fighting and return to their homes.

Most important of all, she needed to find out how and where they had managed to obtain sophisticated weaponry. It had to be admitted that the latter troubled her more than anything else, especially since armed radicals and human patrols had nearly come to blows at several outposts. If a couple of her people got killed, as opposed to just threatened, it would alter the existing dynamic dangerously. Then she would have to worry about restraining her own staff as well as the Sakuntala.

She found herself pleading with unseen forces: I'm not asking for much. Just a day or two, a brief but real cooling-off period when nothing of significance happens . . .

Pandusky stuck his head in, smiled apologetically, and entered. “Sorry, Administrator, but I thought you should see this right away.”

Thoughts of a possible break evaporated. “What is it now, Sanuel? If it's another batch of reports about fleeing Deyzara being chased by rabid Sakuntala, I've had about all I can handle for one morning.”

The smile returned. “Good. Then maybe you'll look on this as a change of pace instead of another crisis.” Pulling a hand projector, he flipped it to life.

A three-dimensional map appeared, floating in the space between them. Within it, a tiny skimmer-shaped dot of light was visible traveling south from Taulau Town.

“That's the rescue team we sent out to find that missing bioscout, Hasselemoga.” As he paused, the light disappeared. “That's the location of the last contact, aural or automatic, that we had with the rescue team. Thirty hours ago.”

She frowned at her assistant as the map vanished and he slipped the projector back into a pocket. “If contact was lost thirty hours ago, why am I just finding out about it now?”

“Because permanent contact wasn't terminated until just this morning. Prior to that, the skimmer's instrumentation was doing its job, staying in touch with Port Base. The trouble is, the last thirty hours of communications turned out to be blank. Nobody thought to check the transmissions for actual content until they stopped altogether.” He looked apologetic. “So they likely were traveling for thirty hours or so on unknown vectors. We have no way of knowing if they changed course during that time. If they did, it's going to be hell to find them.”

“As good a description of the Viisiiviisii as any.” Resting her head in her hands, she stared down at the desk.

Pandusky waited silently for several moments before finally breaking the silence. “Administrator Matthias? Lauren? What do you want me to do?”

“Tender my resignation, effective last week.” She looked up. Pandusky was not concerned. He'd heard it before. “I'm sorry, Sanuel. It hasn't been a very good couple of days.”

“No,” he agreed somberly, “it has not.”

“And now this.” Spinning her seat, she waved at the window and the rain-swept varzea beyond. “First this reprobate but supposedly competent Hasa person goes missing. Now you're telling me that the skimmer we sent out to find him has done likewise?”

Pandusky pursed his lips, following her gaze to the window. “Do you suppose the Sakuntala insurgents could be responsible?”

Her gaze narrowed as she swiveled back to face him again. “You think they could have shot down both skimmers?”

Pandusky shrugged. “From what I'm hearing, they certainly have the firepower to do it.”

She made a face. “Doesn't make sense. If they did so, it would gain them very little. If they tried and failed, they know it would allow us to justify sending patrols against them.”

“Something else, then,” the assistant surmised. “But what?”

“Maybe the Viisiiviisii itself.” Matthias turned thoughtful. “These wouldn't be the first two skimmer crews to disappear out there. But to lose one sent to find another, that suggests something more than a feral coincidence.”

“So what do we do? Do you want me to try to put together another, better-armed team to go look for the both of them?”

She shook her head. “First of all, I'd like to have a better idea of what might have happened before I send a third skimmer after two. Second, we can't spare anybody right now anyway, in case the extremist Sakuntala decide to try to test the patience of Commonwealth authority even further. We can't do anything until things settle down here.”

Pandusky nodded. He was staring out the window again, at the raw, wet forest beyond. “That means if this Hasselemoga and the two we sent to look for him are still alive, they're going to have to find a way to survive on their own for a few days out in the open Viisiiviisii.”

“Maybe a few weeks,” she added. “Maybe longer. It can't be helped. I need all personnel to attend to their assigned stations until further notice.”

Pandusky nodded again and excused himself from the room. Once, by dint of a mistake, he had been forced to spend a few hours alone in the Viisiiviisii. Once was enough, and he knew he had been fortunate to survive the experience. He did not care to think about what it would be like to try to survive in the flooded forest for a few weeks.

Later that afternoon he returned to the office to deliver a personal entreaty from the supervisor of the skimmer port at Kaxanti Town. Administrator Matthias was nowhere to be seen. He finally located her—standing outside on the porch, beyond the rim of the protective overhang. She was capeless and soaked, dripping wet from head to toe, her red hair plastered to her face and neck like stranded seaweed as she stared out into the Viisiiviisii.

“Administrator Matthias?” he asked hesitantly.

At first he thought she hadn't heard him. Or that if she had, she was not going to respond. Finally, she turned, looked hesitant, then smiled and brushed wet hair back from her forehead. Across the way, a sokot was eyeing her speculatively. A tentative, timid predator, it disappeared back into the rain and the branches as soon as she moved.

“It's okay, Sanuel. I was trying to clear my mind.” She glanced down at herself. “If only the state of affairs in which we presently find ourselves was as easy to tidy as my clothes.”

He nodded understandingly. “Just shove everything out in the rain and let the Big Wet wash it away. I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy, Administrator.” He stepped aside as she moved back under the overhang, heading for the open doorway. “Can I make you something to drink?”

“You could,” she told him wryly, “but much as I'd rather be otherwise, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stay sober if we're going to resolve any of this with a minimal amount of bloodshed and mayhem.”

“Is that resolution going by Commonwealth or Sakuntala standards?” Pandusky asked her as they reentered her office. She elected not to respond.

Maybe because she had no answer.

8

T
he maccaluca gazed down at the potential prey out of the shape sensor that ran horizontally across the upper half of its face. It was not so much an eye as an instrument for analyzing interruptions in the patterns of light. The unique organ of perception had evolved to automatically filter out rain, thus enabling the maccaluca to see as clearly as if no rain was falling. In the brief dry season, when this evolutionary advantage was denied to it, it had great difficulty catching food and chose instead to hibernate in the high hollows of the great trees.

Now it “saw” the three figures moving below it as sharply as if they were not currently making their way through a torrential downpour. Other inhabitants of the flooded forest gave it a wide berth. For while the upper portion of the maccaluca's face was given over to its distinctive cream-colored organ of discernment, the rest of it was mostly mouth.

Half a dozen many-jointed arms allowed it to move rapidly and with great flexibility through the branches and vines. Once, it paused to pin a plate-sized fungi-browsing falek between the opposing pincers on one arm. Mewping futilely, the unlucky falek disappeared down a dark gullet. The snack only increased the maccaluca's interest in the more substantial food that was moving below it. Silently it began a gradual descent, its dappled brown-and-green fur together with the red and yellow lichens that grew upon it allowing it to blend in perfectly with its sodden surroundings.

Hasa broke trail while Jemunu-jah brought up the rear. Between them, the disgruntled and markedly unhappy Masurathoo kept up a steady stream of complaint. At least, the Sakuntala thought, the Deyzara had stopped griping about the damage to his clothing.

“I am compelled to point out once again that I think we should have remained at the crash site.”

And I am compelled to remove my side arm from its place of resting and blow your speaking trunk clean off your head, Jemunu-jah mused silently. But I won't. At least, not yet.

“Save you energy for walking,” he replied tersely.

“Walking where?” The Deyzara fluttered a flexible arm at the surrounding Viisiiviisii. “Deeper into damp deadliness? Nearer to death?”

“Didn't you hear the human and I consulting? Coming this way, he flew over small village a number of days' trek northeast from here. We reach it, maybe they have communications facility. Few communities on Fluva completely isolated anymore. We rest and eat there until pickup can be sent out for us.”

Masurathoo snorted through his eating trunk. “
If
we can reach it, and if they have any means of communication with civilization. Those few isolated communities to which you refer are most unlikely to be found, sir, in this unvisited and unmapped portion of the Viisiiviisii. They might just as well decide you are a hereditary enemy, that we are your friends, and choose to have us for dinner—as courses and not guests.”

Jemunu-jah bridled at the insult but said nothing. He could not, because he knew the two-trunk's words to be true. There were still large areas of Fluva the Commonwealth presence had not yet touched. Were still cousins who lived according to the old ways.

“I prefer take chance with Sakuntala meat eaters than with those that dwell in forest. At least can talk to former.”

Hooting derisively, Masurathoo struggled to descend to the larger branch below. They were traveling very close to the water now. The stagnant rain-spattered surface was only a few meters below the branch they were presently traversing. All manner of ferocious organisms dwelled in that water, he knew, hatching out of the dry ground and maturing rapidly as soon as the rains began to fall and the forest to flood. Many lurked just beneath the surface, waiting hungrily for food to fall from the trees. A considerable number were vegetarians. Those that were not—he shuddered—those that were not were best encountered in harmless education vits or in museums. They were a varied and impressive lot, inspiring in the many different ways of killing they had evolved.

He wanted to ask his companions to climb higher, away from the water, challenging as the effort would be to his already weary muscles. At best, they would ignore him. At worst, his suggestion would inspire more jokes at his expense. He had poor grounds for argument, he knew. Both the Sakuntala and this Hasa person were far more at home than he in the depths of the Viisiiviisii. He was going to have to rely on their expertise to get out of this alive. He knew it, they knew it, and he knew they knew it.

So he kept his mouth shut and plodded on in comparative silence, nervously trying to divide his attention between the slippery, uncertain route ahead and the ominous shadowy sheen of water below. All the while, he wiped constantly at his eyes. Rain battered them despite the protection provided by his electrostatically charged wide-brimmed hat and rain cape.

He was concentrating on some small movement in the water when he stumbled and fell. The aqueous disturbance seemed to intensify as he slipped toward it on the rain-slickened wood. Kicking frantically, his sandaled feet smashed through a clump of punky purple fungi, shattering the alien basidiocarps and sending thousands of spores shooting prematurely into the damp air. An instant later, his feet and legs were in the water. He didn't fear the water. Unlike the thranx, the Deyzara were excellent swimmers. But like anyone living on Fluva, he very much feared what lurked within the water.

Powerful arms grasped his own as he scrambled desperately to gain a footing on the semisubmerged branch. One set of arms was covered in light gray-and-black fur, while the other was nearly as bare as his own. Working together, human and Sakuntala easily dragged their clumsy companion clear of the water.

Lying on his back, Masurathoo first checked to make sure he hadn't lost any of the survival gear attached to his waist belt. To his considerable relief, everything was still where he had secured it. He had to rely on his own resources, he knew. The likelihood of either of his companions sharing their own supplies with him was small.

But . . . they had pulled him out of the water.

“What happen?” Jemunu-jah's tone reflected little in the way of actual concern.

“I saw,” wide, bulging eyes turned to the right, “I certainly saw something moving most noticeably in the water.”

Sakuntala and human exchanged a glance. “What you see?” Jemunu-jah inquired further.

“Movement. I assure you that it was quite noticeable, if not especially distinctive.”

Straightening, Hasa turned his head sideways and spit, an action both the Deyzara and Sakuntala found interesting. “You saw movement in moving water. No wonder you panicked.” He shook his head in disgust. “The Sakis are afraid of their own shadows and the two-trunks are still gooking around in the trees. What a world.”

Having once again managed to insult two species in one sentence without the slightest regard as to how the two local representatives of those species might react, he turned to resume the trek eastward. There was a small gap between the half-submerged branch they were standing on and a dry branch opposite. He paused there, not waiting for his cohorts but judging the distance. Though it was modest, the slickness of both surfaces made even a short jump tricky.

Being Deyzara, Masurathoo had no elbows. Instead, he stiffened the longitudinal binding tendons in his arms to raise himself to a half-sitting position. As he did so, he saw a rustling of leaves directly overhead. Though he could see nothing behind them, he was immediately certain of one thing: the activity was not being caused by falling rain.

“Up . . .” He swallowed. “Something is moving above us.”

Hasa turned his head slightly but didn't look back. “Sure. Probably whatever came leaping out of the water.” He continued to gauge the short jump in front of him.

“No, it is verily true, sir!” The Deyzara started to get to his feet; in the absence of bones, it was a graceful, flowing, noiseless movement. “Please, look!”

With a sigh, Jemunu-jah started to tilt his head back. At the same time, both ears inclined sharply forward. Behind the sound of droplets landing on leaves and wood, there was something else: a faint scratching. Frowning inwardly, he trained preternaturally sharp eyes on the cluster of leaves and epiphytes the Deyzara had singled out. Cat pupils expanding sharply, he reached for his pistol and threw himself to one side.

Extending his speaking trunk to its full length, Masurathoo let out a piercing hoot and rolled, landing in the water with a clumsy splash. Mouth parted so wide it made it appear as if its head were split in half, the maccaluca landed on the branch where the Deyzara had been barely a second before. The branch bent noticeably under its weight. One clawed leg slashed at Masurathoo's back but caught only brightly dyed material. Spinning ferociously, the predator extended three other limbs in the direction of the rapidly retreating Sakuntala.

Jemunu-jah raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger. Another instance, he knew, where Commonwealth technology was a welcome improvement over traditional implements. Facing down a maddened, determined maccaluca was no time to lament the passing of culture.

He tripped just as he fired. The shot went over the maccaluca's flattened egg-shaped skull to split leaves and bring down a large cluster of aerial roots. Behind the monster, Shadrach Hasselemoga could be heard cursing in a multiplicity of languages.

Lying on his back, Jemunu-jah struggled to bring the gun up and around for a second shot. His right arm had become entangled in some chest straps that had come flying up toward his face when he'd tripped. The maccaluca was very close now. The fully agape mouth was lined with a thousand needlelike finger-length teeth designed to clamp down and not let go. Rain, usually a familiar friend to the Sakuntala, was in his eyes.

Something half as big around as their now submerged skimmer erupted from the water on his left to clamp triple jaws around the body of the maccaluca. Jointed clawed legs waved wildly and the predator screamed, a high-pitched howl that was almost a hiss. Its limbless attacker slid straight back into the water from which it had exploded, dragging the luckless maccaluca down with it. In their wake, water boiled and bubbled for a moment or two. Then all was silent once more.

The querulous peeps and edgy screeches of the Viisiiviisii resumed, in vivo counterpart to the continuous rain.

Still holding one of his two pistols, Hasa had moved to stand close to Jemunu-jah. He did not offer the taller Sakuntala a hand up. Reaching over his head, Jemunu-jah grasped a small branch with both hands and pulled himself erect. Together they stared at the place where the maccaluca had been sucked down.

“That's a new one on me.” The human spoke as if he had just been presented with a holiday greeting vit. “The maccaluca I recognize. What was the thing that got it?”

“Vuniwai. Only third one I ever seen myself. They not common.”

The prospector spit anew, this time into the water. “Glad to hear it.” He turned. “If I had a hundred credits for every narrow call I've had in my life, I'd be retired now.”

Jemunu-jah took a step in the human's wake, then halted. His sharp eyes searched the surrounding varzea. “Wait. Where is the Deyzara?”

Hasa halted, his brow creasing. “You're right. Two-trunks has up and gone missing. Did the macca get him?”

“I don't think so. If it did, I not see it.” Bending, he began to scan the water. When he finally straightened, it was to pick a spherical bowai fruit from its supportive basket of glasslike fronds and toss it into the shadowed surface.

It landed next to what appeared to be a particularly robust pink stick. The stick promptly surfaced, followed by the thoroughly waterlogged Deyzara. Having rolled into the water to escape the maccaluca's attack, Masurathoo had remained there completely submerged, breathing through his trunk.

The Deyzara was trying to look in every direction at once as he swam back to the semisubmerged branch where his two companions waited. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah, it's gone.” Hasa's eyes suddenly widened. Crouching, he reached for his side arm. “There's another—right behind you!”

Letting out a hysterical hoot, Masurathoo spun wildly, kicking up water in every direction. When he finally calmed down some, he saw there was nothing behind him but a small taleki making its brightly patterned ponderous way across a supportive line of dink molds. Chortling loudly, the human turned away and strode back to the gap he had been contemplating crossing moments earlier. Suffering from a momentary surge of compassion, Jemunu-jah reached down to help the saturated two-trunks back up onto the branch. Every one of the six fingers on his left hand was needed to keep his grasp from slipping.

“Why did Hasa he say there was maccaluca there?” he wondered aloud.

Masurathoo started to run part of his wrappings through two strong digits to strain water from the fabric. Abruptly aware of the futility of trying to do so while standing in the midst of rain that hardly ever ceased, he gave up and let the limp material fall from his hand. It slapped wet and heavy against his leg.

“Some humans, if the wretched truth must be told, find the most extraordinary things a source of great personal amusement. Not excluding inducing terror in others.”