"I may be. But compared to the last cruise, things are going extremely well, complications and all. Of course we don't know why the Thek are here, or what they're going to do, or if that heavyworlder transport has allies following after - " Ford shook his head. "I doubt that. A hull that size could carry colony seedstock, machinery and all - "

"True. That's what I'm hoping - but you notice I put a relay satellite in orbit, and left a streaker net out. Just in case. Oh yes - you're interested in the sort of wild-life they've got here, aren't you?"

"Sure - it was kind of a hobby of mine, and when I was on the staff at Sector III, they had this big museum just down the hill - "

"Good. Are you willing to take on a fairly dangerous outside job? And do some acting in the meantime?"

"Of course." He blanked all the expression off his face and faked a Diplo accent. "I could pretend to be a heavyworlder if you want, but I'm afraid they'd notice something ..."

Sa.s.s shook her head at him. "Be serious. I need to know more about this world - direct data, not interpreted by those survivors, no matter how expert they are in their fields. Varian, the co-leader who came today, is entirely too eager to claim sentient status for an avian species. It may be justified, or it may not, but I want independent data. There's something odd about her reactions to the Iretan-born heavyworlders, too. She ought to be furious, still - she's less than a ten-day out of coldsleep; she witnessed a murder; the initial indictment filed with G.o.dheir spoke of intentional injury to both co-leaders. That's all fresh in her mind, or should be. Her reasoning's correct; the grandchildren of mutineers are not responsible. But it's just not normal for her to think that clearly when her friends and colleagues have suffered. I've seen this kind of idealism backfire - this determination to save every living thing can be carried too far. She's very dedicated, and very spirited, but I'm not sure how stable she is. With a tribunal coming up to determine the fate of this planet and those people, I need something solid."

"I see your point, captain, but what do you want me to do?" "Well - I'd guess she'd fall for unconditional enthusiasm. Boyish gush, if you can manage it - and I know you can." She let her eyes caress him, and he laughed aloud. "Yes - exactly that. Be dinosaur-crazy, act as if you'd do anything for a mere glimpse of them - you're so lucky to have the chance, and so on. You can start by being skeptical - are they really dinosaurs? Are they sure? Let's pick a survey team today, and brief them - you can introduce them as fellow hobbyists tomorrow. They'll probably accept two or three, and if they go for that maybe another two or three later. How's that sound?"

"Right. Makes sense." Ford, faced with a problem, tackled it wholly, absorbed and alert at once. She watched as he scrolled through the personnel files, with a search on secondary specialties. "We'll have to pick those who do have a real interest - they'd catch on to something faked, and I can't teach someone all about dinosaurs in one night - " He stopped, and fed an entry to her screen. "How about Borander? He's taken twelve hours of palaeontology."

"No, not Borander. Did you see how he interacted with Varian?"

"No, I was with Currald then."

"Well, take a look at the tape later. Young trout let her dominate him. Admittedly, she's a Disciple, and she's declared herself planetary governor, but I don't like my officers buckling that easily. He needs a bit of seasoning. Who else?"

"Segendi - no, he's a heavyworlder and I doubt you want to complicate things that way - "

"Right."

"What about Maxnil, in supply? His secondary specialty is cartography, and he's listed as having an a.s.sociate degree in xen.o.bio." Sa.s.s nodded, and Ford went on, quickly turning up a short list of three crew members who could be considered "dinosaur buffs." It was even easier to come up with a list of those who knew a reasonable amount of geology, although harder to cut the list to three. All had excellent records, and all had worked with non-Fleet personnel.

Sa.s.s nodded, at last. "Good selection. You brief them, Ford, and be sure they understand that they did not know dinosaurs were here until tomorrow. We didn't see anything on the way down: we came too fast. I had seen the information stripped from the beacon, but no one else had. Once you see the beasts, I imagine you won't have to fake your reactions. But keep in mind that I need information on more than large, noisy, dangerous reptiloids."

Ford nodded. "Do you still want to speak to Major Currald before lunch?"

"If he feels he has things well in hand with the transport. What's that captain's name - Cruss? Foul-mouthed creature, that one. I want Wefts and heavyworlders, round the clock - "

"Here's the roster." As usual. Ford had antic.i.p.ated her request. She thought again how lucky she was to have Ford this time, and not Huron. In a situation like this, Huron's initiative and drive could have been disastrous. She could trust Ford to back her tactics, not go off and do something harebrained on his own.

She glanced at the roster of Fleet personnel stationed inside the transport to ensure that personnel in coldsleep were not revived. She didn't want to face a thousand or more heavyworlders: the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan would have no trouble killing them all, but Fleet commanders were supposed to avoid the necessity of a ma.s.sacre. Each shift combined Wefts and heavyworlders: she trusted her heavyworlders, but with Wefts to witness, no one could later claim that they'd betrayed her trust. "Get Currald on the line, would you?" would have no trouble killing them all, but Fleet commanders were supposed to avoid the necessity of a ma.s.sacre. Each shift combined Wefts and heavyworlders: she trusted her heavyworlders, but with Wefts to witness, no one could later claim that they'd betrayed her trust. "Get Currald on the line, would you?"

A few moments later, Currald's face filled one of the screens, and he confirmed that the situation remained stable.

"I've told the native-born survivors that I'll supply some of their needs, too," Sa.s.sinak told him. "I don't want them to think that all good comes from Diplo. I've got some things on order, that'll be delivered to the perimeter. But if you can turn surveillance and supervision over to someone, I'd appreciate your company at lunch,"

"You're not giving them weapons - "

"No, certainly not."

"Give me about half an hour, if you can, captain; I'm still arranging the flank coverage."

"That's fine. I'll order a meal for half an hour from now - and if you're held up along the way, just give me a call." She cleared the circuit, and turned to Ford. "See if Mayerd can meet with us, too - and you, of course, after you've notified your short lists that you'll brief them this afternoon. I'll be on the bridge, but we'll eat in here."

On the bridge, she told the duty officer to carry on, and came up behind Arly. Although most of the ship had been released from battle stations, the weapons systems were powered up and fully operational. It would be disastrous if someone erred at this range - no doubt the transport would be destroyed (with great loss of life she'd have to account for) but the resultant backlash could endanger the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan. Arly acknowledged her without taking her gaze from the screens.

"I'm just running a test on quadrant two - " she said over her shoulder. "Interlock systems - making sure no one can pull the same trick again - "

Sa.s.s had more sense than to bother her at that moment, and waited, watching the screens closely, although she could not interpret some of the scanning traces. Finally Arly sighed, and locked her board down.

"Safe. I hope." She smiled a bit wearily. "Are you going to explain, or is this a great security mystery?"

"Both," said Sa.s.s. "How about lunch in my office?"

Arly's eyes slid back to her screens. "I should stay - "

"You've got a perfectly competent second officer, and it's my considered opinion that nothing's going to break loose right now. That Cruss may be up to something, but we've interrupted his plans, and this is our safe period. Relax - or at least get out of that seat and eat something."

Currald brought the stench of the Iretan atmosphere back into Sa.s.sinak's office, just as the filters had finally cleared it out after the morning's visit. He apologized profusely, but she waved his apology aside.

"We're going to be here awhile, and we might as well adapt. Or learn to wear nose-plugs."

Arly was trying not to wrinkle her nose, but positioned herself a seat away from Currald. "It's not you," she said to him, "but I simply can't handle the sulfur smell. Not with a meal on the table. It makes everything taste terrible."

Currald actually chuckled, a sign of unusual trust. "Maybe that's what drove the mutineers to eating meat - I've heard it ruins the sense of smell."

"Meat?" Mayerd looked up sharply from a sheaf of lab reports. "It makes the person who eats it stink of sulfur derivatives, but it doesn't confuse the eater's own nose."

"I don't know ..." Sa.s.s paused with a lump of standard green vegetable in white sauce halfway to her mouth. "If things taste different in a sulfurous atmosphere - and they do - " She eyed the lump of green with distaste. "Then maybe meat would taste good."

"I never thought of that." Mayerd's brow wrinkled. Ford grinned at the table generally.

"Here comes another scientific paper . . . The Effect of Ireta's Atmosphere on the Perception of Protein Flavorings' . . . 'Sulfur and the Taste of Blood.

"Don't say that in front of Co-leader Varian," Sa.s.s warned. "She seems to be very sensitive where the prohibition is concerned. She wouldn't think it was funny."

"It's not funny," Mayerd said thoughtfully. "It's an idea ... I never thought of it before, but perhaps an atmospheric stench would affect the kinds of foods people would prefer, and if someone were already tempted to consider the flesh of living beings an acceptable food, the smell might increase the probability - " The others groaned loudly, in discordant tones, and Mayerd glared at them. Before she could retort, Sa.s.sinak brought them to order, and explained why she'd wanted them to meet.

"Co-leader Varian is perfectly correct that the Iretans are not responsible for the mutiny or its effects. At the same time, it's in the interests of FSP to see that this planet is not opened to exploitation, and that the Iretans a.s.similate into the Federation with as little friction as possible. They've been told a pack of lies, as near as we can tell: they think that the original team was made up of heavyworlders, and abandoned unfairly. They expected help from heavyworlders only, and apparently think heavyworlders and lightweights cannot cooperate.

"We have the chance to show them that heavyworlders are a.s.similated, and welcome, in our society. We all know about the problems - Major Currald has had to put up with harra.s.sment, as have most if not all heavyworlders in Fleet - but he and the others in Fleet believe that the two types of humans are more alike than different. If we can drive a friendly wedge between those young people and that heavyworlder colony ship - if we can make it clear that they have a chance to belong to a larger universe - perhaps they'll agree to compensation for their claims on Ireta, and withdraw. That would be a peaceful solution, quite possible for such a small group, and with compensation they could gain the education they'd need to live well elsewhere. Even if they don't give up all their claims, they might be more willing to live within the limits a tribunal is almost certain to impose . . . especially if Varian is right, and there's a sentient native species."

Currald said, "Do you want active recruitment? The ones I've seen would probably pa.s.s the interim tests."

Sa.s.s nodded. "If you find some you want for the marine contingent, let me know. I'd approve a few, but we'd have to be sure we could contain them. I don't believe any have been groomed as agents, but that's a danger I can't ignore."

Mayerd frowned, tapping the lab reports on the table beside her tray. "These kids were brought up on natural foods, not to mention meat. Do you think they could adjust to shipboard diets right away?"

"I'm not sure, and that's why I want you in on this from the beginning. We're going to need to know everything about their physiology. They're apparently heavyworlder-bred, but growing up on a normal-G planet hasn't brought out the full adaptation. Major Currald may have some insights into the differences, or perhaps they'd be willing to talk to other heavyworlders more freely. But you're the research expert on the medical staff: you figure out what you need to know and how to find out. Keep me informed on what you need."

"I've always thought," said Mayerd, with a sidelong glance at Currald, "that it's possible heavyworlders do require a blend of nutrients delivered most efficiently in meat. Particularly those on cold worlds. But you can't do research on that in the Federation - it's simply unmentionable. Not fair, really. Scientific research shouldn't be hampered by religious notions."

A tiny smile had twitched Currald's lips. "Research has been done, clandestinely of course, on two heavy-G worlds I know of. It's not just flesh, doctor, but certain kinds, and yes, it's the most efficient source of the special requirements we have. But I don't think you want to hear this at table."

"Another consideration," said Sa.s.sinak into the silence that followed, "is that of crew solidarity. It will do the heavyworlder critics in our crew good to see what heavyworlder genes look like when not stressed by high-G: with all respect, Currald, the Iretans look like normals more than heavyworlders." He nodded, sober but apparently not insulted. "But as you know, we've had trouble with a saboteur before. If anything happened now, to heighten tensions between heavyworlders and lightweights - " She paused, and glanced at every face. They all nodded, clearly understanding the implications. "Arly, I know you've made every possible safety check of the weapons systems, but it's going to be hard to keep your crews fully alert in the coming days. Yet you must: we must not have any accidental weapons discharges."

"Speaking of that," said Hollister. "I presume we're screened. . . ?" Sa.s.s pressed the controls and nodded. "I hadn't had a chance to tell you, and since the crisis appeared to be over - " He pulled a small gray box from his pocket and laid it on the table. "I found this in the number two power center just as we landed. Disabled it, of course, but I think it was intended to interfere with the tractor controls."

Sa.s.s picked up the featureless box and turned it over in her hands. "Induction control?"

"Right. It could be used for all sorts of things, including setting off weapons - "

"Where, precisely, did you find it?"

"Next to a box of circuit breakers, where it looked like it might be part of that a.s.sembly - some boxes have another switchbox wired in next to them. Same shade of gray, same type of coating. But I've been looking every day for anything new, anything different - that's how I spotted it. At first I wasn't even sure, but when I touched it, it came off clean - no wires. Nela cracked it and read the chips for me; that's how I know it was intended to mess up the tractor beam."

"Dupaynil?" She looked down the table at him. His expression was neutral. "I'd wish to have seen it in place, yet clearly it had to be disabled in that situation, with the possibility of hostile fire. Did you consider physical traces?"

Hollister nodded. "Of course. I held it with gloves, and Nela dusted it, but we didn't find any prints. Med or you, sir, might find other traces."

"The point is," said Sa.s.sinak, "that we've finally found physical evidence of our saboteur. Still aboard, since I'm sure Hollister can say that wasn't in place yesterday, and still active."

"If we find a suspect," Dupaynil said, "we might look inside this for traces of the person who programmed it."

"If we find a suspect," said Sa.s.sinak. "And we'd better." On that note, the meeting adjourned.

Chapter Seventeen.

Sa.s.sinak had made extensive preparations for her meeting the next morning with Captain Cruss. Unless he had illegal Fleet-manufactured detectors, he could not know that a full audio-video hook up linked her office to Ford's quarters and the bridge. Currald had furnished his most impressive heavyworld marines for an escort through the ship, although Sa.s.sinak had chosen Weft guards for her personal safety. She wanted to see if Cruss would overreach himself.

When Currald signalled that Cruss was on his way, she watched on the monitor. The five men and women that sauntered across the grid between ships were unpleasant-looking, even for heavyworlders. They had not bothered to put on clean uniforms, Sa.s.sinak noticed; even Cruss looked rumpled and smudged. She glanced briefly at her white upholstered chairs, and muttered a brief curse to rudeness ... no doubt they would do their best to soil her things, and smirk to themselves about it. She knew too many fastidious heavyworlders to believe that they were innately dirty.

By the time they reached Main Deck, Sa.s.sinak had heard comments from observers she'd stationed along their path. They had argued about leaving their hand weapons with the guards; Captain Cruss carried a small, roughly globular object which he insisted he must hand-carry to Sa.s.sinak himself. She signalled an a.s.sent. They had made snide remarks to Currald and the heavyworlder escort, and pointedly turned away from the Wefts. They had lounged insolently on the grabbar in the cargo lift, and commented on the grooming of ship's crew in terms that had the reporting ensign red-faced. And of course they were late ... a studied discourtesy which Sa.s.sinak met with her own. When Gelory ushered them in with cool precision, Sa.s.sinak glanced up from a desk covered with datacards.

"Oh! Dear me, I lost track of time." She could see, behind the heavyworlders, Currald's flick of a grin: she never lost track of time. But she went on, smoothly and sweetly. "I'm so sorry, Captain Cruss - if you'll just take a seat - anywhere will do - and give me a moment to clear this." She turned back to her work, quickly organizing the apparent disarray, and tapping the screen before her with a control wand. Arly, by prearrangement, appeared in the doorway with a hardcopy file, and apologized profusely for interrupting.

"It's all right. Commander," said Sa.s.s. Arly's eyes widened at this sudden promotion in rank, but she had the good sense to ride with it. "Are those the current status reports? Good - if you'll relay these to Com, and tell them to use the Blue code-book - and then ask the Chief Engineer to clear these variations, that will be all." She handed Arly a stack of datacards and the hardcopy that had just spit from her console. With a quick glance at the file Arly had handed her, she thumbed a control that opened a desk drawer, deposited it therein, and returned her attention to Cruss and his crew. "There, now. We've had so much message traffic, it's taken me this long to sort things out. Captain, I've spoken to you - and this is your crew - ?"

Cruss introduced his crew with none of the overused, but filthy, epithets of the day before. They glowered, uniformly, and stank of more than Ireta. Sa.s.sinak wondered if their ship were really that short of sanitary facilities, or if they preferred to smell bad.

"May I see your ship's papers - " It was not really a request, not with the Zaid-Dayan's Zaid-Dayan's weaponry trained on the transport, and her marines on board. Cruss took a crumpled, stained folder out of the chest pocket of his shipsuit, and tossed it across the room. One of the marines turned to glare at him, and then glanced to Sa.s.sinak for guidance, but she did not react, merely picking up the distasteful object and opening it to read. "I'll also need your personal identification papers," she said. "Crew ratings - union memberships - if you'll hand those to Gelory - " They knew Gelory was a Weft; she could tell by the subtle withdrawal, as if they were afraid a Weft could harm them by skin touch. Sa.s.sinak went on reading. weaponry trained on the transport, and her marines on board. Cruss took a crumpled, stained folder out of the chest pocket of his shipsuit, and tossed it across the room. One of the marines turned to glare at him, and then glanced to Sa.s.sinak for guidance, but she did not react, merely picking up the distasteful object and opening it to read. "I'll also need your personal identification papers," she said. "Crew ratings - union memberships - if you'll hand those to Gelory - " They knew Gelory was a Weft; she could tell by the subtle withdrawal, as if they were afraid a Weft could harm them by skin touch. Sa.s.sinak went on reading.

According to the much-smudged (and probably faked) papers, transport and crew were on lease to Newholme, one of the shabbier commercial companies licensed by the Federation Colonial Service to set up colonies. Stamps from a dozen systems blotched the pages. Entry and exit from Sorrell-III, entry and exit from Bay Hill, entry and exit from Cabachon, Drissa, Zaduc, Porss . . , and Diplo. Destination a heavyworld colony two systems away, which Sa.s.sinak thought she recalled had reached its start-up quota.

With hardly a sound, Gelory deposited the crew's individual papers on Sa.s.s's desk, murmuring "Captain," and drifting back to her place. Sa.s.sinak made no comment, and turned to these next, ignoring the squeaks and grunts of her furniture as the heavyworlders shifted in bored insolence, as well as their sighs and muttered curses. With the heavyworlders safely installed in her office. Ford should soon have Varian and Kai - the co-leader she hadn't met - in his quarters nearby, where they could see the interview without being seen. Until then, she intended to pore over these papers as if they were rare gems.

Luckily they were about as she'd expected, justifying a long examination. Captain Cruss, it turned out, had no master's license - just a temporary permit from Diplo. He had been a master mate (and what land of rank was that, Sa.s.sinak wondered . . . she'd not seen that before) on an ore-hauler for eight years, and second mate on an asteroid-mining shuttle before that. Newholme had granted a temporary waiver of its usual requirements on the basis of Diplo's permit - that looked like a bribe.

First-mate, senior pilot Zansa, on the other hand, had had a master's license and once worked for Cobai Chemicals - which implied that her master's license had been legitimate. But it was stamped "rescinded" in the odd orange ink that nothing could eradicate completely - and with a notation that Zansa had become addicted to bellefleur, a particularly dangerous drug for a ship captain. Sa.s.sinak looked up and found Zansa, who bore the characteristic facial scars of a bellefleur addict, though they were all pale and dry.

"I'm clean," the woman growled. "Been clean five years, and next year I can retake the exams - "

"Shut up up," said Cruss, savagely, and Zansa shrugged, clearly not intimidated. Sa.s.sinak went back to the papers. So ... Zansa was the expert, and Cruss the cover - though she wondered why they hadn't found a legitimate master. Surely they could have done better than a recovering bellefleur addict.

Second pilot Hargit had had a checkered career, with rescinded visa stamps all over his records: charges and some convictions for petty theft, a.s.sault and battery, and "disturbance." That was from Charade, which usually had a pretty tolerant att.i.tude towards disturbances. For the past five years, he'd piloted a cargo hauler between two heavyworlder planets, apparently without incident.

Lifesystems engineer Po was the largest of the five, a gross ma.s.s of flesh that escaped his shipsuit where the fastenings had strained from the cloth. He had a toothy grin that made Sa.s.sinak want to reach for a stunner - the kind of grin she remembered too well from her days as a slave. He had also been cashiered from the Diplo insystem s.p.a.ce militia. She wondered how many of the hopeful colonists in coldsleep on the transport would have a chance to wake up with this . . . person . . . watching over their safety. He'd given up the fight to maintain traditional heavyworlder fitness on shipboard, but Sa.s.sinak did not doubt his strength.

And last was the "helper," Roella. Her papers listed a variety of occupations, in s.p.a.ce and on planet, including "entertainer" - which, for someone of her appearance, meant only one thing. She'd also been jailed twice, for "disrespect" - but that was on Courance, where unlike Charade they were very picky indeed.

Plenty of questions to ask, but nothing she wanted to pursue too far, not now. A light came up on her console; she ignored it, and went on reading, rolling the control wand in her fingers. If they were clever, these heavyworlders, they would realize what it was - a stun-wand, as well as a link to her computers. With their backgrounds, they'd all had intimate experience with a stun-wand, somewhere. She finished turning through Roella's ID packet, and sighed, as if deeply pained by all this. Then she looked up at the tense, angry faces across from her.

"Yes, yes. Captain Cruss," she said, pouring all the smoothness she could into her voice. "Your papers do seem to be in order, and one cannot fault your chivalry in diverting to investigate a distress call ..." What distress call? For they'd have had to receive it many light years away, the way they'd come. Of course they didn't know they'd been followed.

But Cruss was explaining, or trying to, that it had not been a normal distress call. Sa.s.sinak pushed her own thoughts aside to listen. A homing capsule, intended for the EEC compound ship which had dropped both the Ryxi colony and the exploration team. It had gone astray, somehow been damaged, and been found just beyond the orbit of the outermost planet of this system.

Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely, Sa.s.sinak thought grimly ... it would be like someone in an aircraft happening to notice a single small bead on the end of the runway as they landed. Nothing that size could be detected in FTL flight, and it was more than a little unlikely that they'd come out of FTL on top of it by accident. She was surprised when Cruss stood up, and deposited the battered hunk of metal on her desk with insolent precision. So - that was his surprise - and he had a homing capsule, or part of it. Stripped of its propulsion unit and power pack, it was hardly recognizable. She refrained from touching it, noting only that engraved ID numbers were just visible along one pitted side.

She was not convinced of his story, even when he generously offered to let her extract the capsule's message from his computer, but she had no intention of arguing with him at this point. She doubted he knew that the Fleet computers had their own way with such capsules - and could extract more than a faked message implanted therein. But all that would come out at the trial. Now she smiled, graciously, and explained her reasons for confining them all to their ship, but with permission to trade for fresh foodstuffs with the locals. Cruss surged to his feet with another stale curse, and his companions followed. Sa.s.sinak sat quietly, relaxed: behind them the two Wefts had shifted to their own form, and clung to the angle of bulkhead and overhead. The marine escort was poised, hands hovering over weapons.

"I hope your water supplies are adequate," she said in the same conversational tone. "The local water is foul-tasting and smells." Cruss actually growled, a rumble of furious denial that he needed anything, from her or anyone else. "Very well, then," she went on. "I'm positive you'll wish to continue on your way as soon as we have received clearance for you. The indigenes will have all the help we can give them. You may be sure of that." She stood, tapping the wand against her left palm, to watch them leave. Cruss made a motion toward the capsule, but Sa.s.sinak lowered the wand to forestall him.

"I think that had better remain," she said calmly. "Sector will wish to examine it - " His eyes shifted angrily. Guilty, she thought. What had they done to that thing? And where had it been sent? Surely not all the way to Diplo - - at the sublight speed a capsule traveled, that would take years. His muscles bunched; Sa.s.sinak flicked a finger signal and the Wefts rea.s.sembled themselves beside him. He flinched, his expression shifting from barely controlled fury and contempt to alarm.

"Good day. Captain," she said easily, despite a mouth suddenly dry as the crisis pa.s.sed. Of the others, only Zansa looked longingly toward the pile of personal doc.u.ments on her desk - Sa.s.sinak avoided her eyes until she'd turned to leave.

As soon as the door slid shut, Sa.s.sinak relaxed back into her chair and turned it to face the video pickup. Ford quickly hooked their video into her screen, so that she could see them. Varian looked much better today: a vividly alive young woman who reminded Sa.s.sinak of herself, with those thick dark curls. But Varian's eyes were a clear gray, today untinged by the pain or stress that had clouded them the day before. Kai, on the other hand, looked nothing like an expedition leader. Slumped in his seat, pale, a padded suit protecting vulnerable skin . . . and his voice, when he spoke, revealed the strain even this much activity placed on him. He seemed harried, nervous - in a way more normal than Varian, for someone who'd been through a mutiny and forty-three years of coldsleep. Plus whatever had attacked him. She chatted with them, trying to a.s.sess Kai's condition and Varian's wits. Neither of them had any idea what the Thek presence meant, although Kai told her about the existing cores, found before the mutiny. She was still digesting that when Kai turned formal, and asked if she considered her presence to be the relief of the expeditionary team. "How could it?" she asked, meanwhile wondering why he'd give her such an opening. Did he want to be removed from command? Did he distrust his co-leader? Varian seemed as surprised by his question as Sa.s.sinak. Sa.s.sinak filled out her quick answer, explaining her understanding of their entirely legitimate position, and reminding them again of her willingness to give them any a.s.sistance. Varian accepted this happily, but Kai still seemed constrained. Either he was very sick still, from all that had happened, or something else was wrong. After she'd turned them over to Ford, who would take Kai down to sickbay for Mayerd's diagnostic unit to work on, and Varian to supply, she sat for awhile, frowning thoughtfully at the screen that had held their image.

She put the ID papers of both transport and crew in a sealed pouch, and stored it safely away for later examination. Dupaynil came in, with two Com specialists, to take the homing capsule' away. He asked if she wanted to watch them extract the message, but she shook her head. At the moment, she'd take a break from the day's craziness, and discuss the evening's menu with her favorite cook.

When the call came in from the survivors' geologist, one Dimenon, relayed through Com, she collected the Iretan heavyworlders and the expedition co-leaders. Mayerd shepherded Kai, clearly unwilling to let such an interesting case out of her sight, and Ford brought Varian. Dimenon had had a good reason for contacting the cruiser - not only a video of twenty-three small Thek, but an interaction between them and the creature that had attacked Kai. Sa.s.sinak had already viewed the tape once, and now in the re-run watched Kai's reaction to these odd creatures - fringes, they called them. The man was positively terror-struck as the fringes advanced on the Thek, his breathing labored and his skin color poor. He had not moved well, coming into her office, but she thought if a fringe appeared in real life he would somehow manage to run. Pity and disgust contended in her mind. Had he always been like this, or had events overcome him? What did Varian think? Sa.s.sinak glanced at her, and realized that she, too, was covertly watching him, her expression guarded.

Sa.s.sinak distracted Varian with a question about the fringes, and Mayerd, bless her perception, kept the conversation going thereafter . . . although Kai's answers, when he spoke, tended to cause a sudden rift. Then the Iretans began to ask their own questions, about the Thek, and their place in the Federation. Sa.s.s's opinion of Aygar's intelligence climbed another notch. He could think - and, it seemed in the next exchange, he even had a sense of humor. For when Sa.s.sinak asked him what weapon his people used against the fringes, he said, "We run," in a tone of rich irony.

A slight easing of tension, and the conversation continued: fringes and their habits, the aquatic fringes the expedition had observed before the mutiny. Aygar was surprised by that . . . and Sa.s.sinak was just wondering how she could shift the conversation to the reptiloids when Varian, answering a question, mentioned the word. Dinosaurs. Fordeliton leaped on it with such eagerness that Sa.s.sinak half-expected Varian to recoil suspiciously. But apparently she thought it was natural for a grown man, a Fleet cruiser Executive Officer, to leap into an argument about whether anything resembling a true Old Earth dinosaur could have evolved in such a different world. Varian reeled off a string of names. Ford gaped, and then brought Aygar into it.

Sa.s.sinak let the excited exchange continue a minute or so, then put a halt to it with such pointed lack of interest for anything but the political situation that she knew they'd erupt again when her back was turned. So much the better. By the time she ushered the Iretans out, Varian and Kai had practically adopted Ford. She had no trouble persuading them to take all six of the short-listed specialists . . . Varian, in fact, was openly gleeful. She wondered if Mayerd had found out anything from Kai, besides the nature of his injuries and illness, but the medic had spent all her time on physical symptoms.

"It's no use asking why he's depressed and nervous until he's no longer in pain, feverish, and numb in places."

"I should think numbness preferable to pain," said Sa.s.sinak tartly. "How can he be both?"

Mayerd gave her a look which reminded her she hadn't eaten on time, and suggested they take a short break. "Eat a bit of that chocolate you keep hidden around here," she said, "and I'll have a cup of tea, and we'll all keep from biting our heads off, shall we?"

"Don't mother me, Mayerd. I'm not old and decrepit."

"No," said Mayerd shrewdly, "but you're about to meet a fourth-generation ancestor who's years younger than you are, and for all you know a raving beauty who'll steal Ford's heart away and leave you withering in the blast of dead pa.s.sion."