Shadow World (23 page)

"If our supplies run low, we can consider moving into the mountains and leaving a trail so rescuers can locate us," Reyvinik said. "But let's hope we don't have to try and cross the desert with the injured and children."

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"I'll volunteer to lead a team," a Heeyoon survivor said. "My home is near a desert; they are not unknown to me."

"Good," Reyvinik said. "Anyone else? We should send out a couple of teams toward these settlements. On foot it'll take several days to get to any one of them."

Mark looked over at Eerin and spoke quietly. "When the teams reach these settlements, will the Elspind be able to contact the CLS to tell them what's happened?"

Hin nodded. "Yes. Some villages have CLS researchers stationed there, as part of the sociological program, and they have communications devices, of course. But even the villages that have no CLS researchers can pass messages quickly, either by our system of messenger runners, or, over very long distances, by releasing trained messenger birds. Hin's people will do everything possible to help."

Reyvinik called for agreement to his proposal and got it.

"We'll send a team to each of the two largest settlements that are within reasonable walking distance," he decided. "Once we have both team leaders, I want each of them to choose their own group from volunteers."

"I'll lead a team," said a middle-aged woman. "I'm an archaeologist, and I've spent a lot of time in desert climates." She looked over at Eerin. "Maybe Eerin can give me some background on Elseemar's flora and fauna."

"That is a good idea," said the other, Heeyoon, team leader.

Mark wasn't listening, however. Reyvinik's phrase, "the two largest settlements," had given him pause. "Wait a minute," he said, waving his hand. "Mr. Reyvinik ... wait a minute!"

"Yes, Mr. Kenner?"

"Those two largest settlements ... they're Wospind enclaves," Mark said.

"The hijacker told us so. They're the
last
places off-worlders should be heading on Elseemar."

Eerin was nodding agreement. "To walk to the nahah would be much safer.

The people there are Elspind, and they will help."

Reyvinik looked at them, then slowly shook his head. "You can't be sure that hijacker told you the truth, Mr. Kenner. The nahah is probably the Wospind enclave, and he told you to go

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there so that his child would be raised by his own people."

Jorge's mouth tightened as he deliberately glanced at the wreckage of the
Asimov.
"Remember, these people were willing to die for their beliefs; it seems reasonable to me that they wouldn't have any compunction about lying for them."

A chorus of "That's right!" and "Of course he was lying!" and "You can't believe a terrorist!" followed the older man's declaration.

"I'm sure the hijacker was telling the truth!" Mark protested. "He swore he was! Dammit, the Wopind was
dying
and all he wanted was for his child to live. He wasn't plotting against us on his deathbed!"

One black man glared at Mark, shaking his head. "Don't be naive, Kenner,"

he said sarcastically. "That guy would've said anything to get you to take his kid where he wanted it to go. Besides"--he gave Eerin a hard look--"I still think it's a pretty farfetched coincidence that old Eerin here just happened to be on the ship that the Wospind decided to hijack."

"According to the map, we can reach the nahah two to three days before we'd get to any of these settlements," Mark pointed out. "It's crazy not to go there." He gave the group a hard look of his own. "Don't forget, time is survival."

"You're
crazy to listen to a terrorist" was the response from several sources.

"They are people without civilized ethics, by definition," said a Chhhh-kk-tu.

"You cannot expect truth from them."

"He lied so you would take his child back to its own people," said a woman with a baby of her own in her arms.

"Hell, that's what I'd do," said the black man. Heads nodded all around the ragged circle.

Reyvinik looked at Mark. "Frankly, I'd consider it a higher duty, if I were leaving a helpless child behind, to provide for the child. Whatever I had to do!"

"I want to be found, but not by
them"
said another survivor. "Alien fanatics!

They'd probably kill us on sight."

Reyvinik listened carefully until the group ran down. "Does anyone else have anything else to offer?"

"Hin's people are not liars," Eerin spoke up for the first time, loud and firm.

"Hin is ashamed of what the Wospind did, and hin apologizes for their actions ... but hin still believes that

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the Wopind hijacker spoke the truth today. The nahah is the best

destination."

"The Elpind is correct," said a loud, harsh voice. It was the big, ruddy Simiu.

"Elspind are a truthful people, much the same as my own." The big alien glared at the black man. "Humans, of course, can comprehend little of such honor, but I assure you that it exists in this culture. The hijacker was undoubtedly telling the truth."

The black man's lips tightened, but he remained silent.

Reyvinik chose not to acknowledge the Simiu's insult. He gazed off at the hazy rim of mountains for several minutes, then finally spoke again. "There are good arguments on both sides, and it's a risk either way. I suggest a compromise. Mr. Kenner, will you volunteer to lead a third party to the nahah? That way we'll have covered all the bases."

"All right," Mark said steadily.

Quickly the three leaders chose teams. Mark, of course, selected Eerin and Cara. Then the Elpind gave the Heeyoon and the archaeologist an

accelerated course in Elpind plants and animals.

"Mr. Kenner," said Reyvinik, when Eerin was through, "I'd like there to be at least five in each party." Each of the other two teams had seven members.

Mark hesitated, glancing over the crowd. From their expressions, it was obvious that no one else was eager, or even willing, to accompany him. He was about to tell Reyvinik he was happy with his team, small as it was, when the elderly Apis suddenly swooped over the gathered crowd and landed at his side!

Mark regarded her steadily. "Uh ... I appreciate your gesture, but this is going to be a very difficult journey, uh ... "

"Her name is R'Thessra, and she is too kind for her own good!" came the Simiu's harsh voice. "She has already had to protect this human who could not defend himself ..." He glared at the insectoid alien, who regarded him without budging. "Now, apparently, she thinks to make a career of it!"

There were chuckles around the circle.

"I wouldn't want to endanger her," Mark said. "I know she is not young ..." He trailed off delicately, wondering how the hell he was going to extricate himself from this one.

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"She is strong and fit," snarled the Simiu. "And I will accompany her." He glared at the circle of survivors. "I shall see that this group reaches its destination. The rest of you will find only Wospind where you are heading."

Reyvinik smiled wryly. "Your name, Honored Simiu?" "Hrrakk', if it is any business of yours, human." The name had the distinctive Simiu click on the end. "Mark, will you take R'Thessra and Hrrakk'?" Mark sighed and nodded.

I
can't insult R'Thessra, and I have to admit, Hrrakk's strength and agility are
bound to be a plus ... but his antihuman attitude is already a royal pain.

"Fine. That's settled. Let's get some rules laid down for basic organization,"

Reyvinik said.

It was agreed the walking teams would leave as soon as dusk fell and that, until then, everyone would work together to make sure that the
Asimov
was left in the best possible shape.

Mark was assigned to the group that moved all the injured into the central location of the common lounge and made them as comfortable as possible.

Another, larger team worked at extricating the dead from the wreckage. The bodies would deteriorate rapidly in the heat and, to prevent disease, must be preserved. This was accomplished by placing them in the hibernation containers, which they then activated, powering the units with the ship's solar- powered emergency batteries.

Cara worked with the team that foraged the ship for usable supplies. Food and water shortages were critical. The food servos were now useless, though a few blocks of their basic protein or carbohydrate presynthesized material proved salvageable. Chunks of them would be unpalatable, but edible. They found some fresh vegetables, raised in the hydroponics section as a supplement to the processed food. Most of their rations would come from the
Asimov's
survival kits.

In the end, the food was rationed out equally, but most of the water was left with the injured, the children, and those who would care for both until help arrived. The walking parties, it was assumed, would find water in the mountains. They were given only enough to ration their way through the short desert portion of the hike.

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Clothing, blankets, items that would be useful for camping, medical supplies--all these were collected and divided by Cara's hardworking team.

The journalist assigned herself an additional task. She made a complete circuit of the broken ship, filming wreckage and bodies for the record the authorities would need.

Knowing she would find people out there on the sand that she'd met and liked, Cara steeled herself as she set out. But her professional composure eroded as she recognized face after face, now emptied by death.

Worst of all was when she found Ryan. Cara remembered the times they'd danced together, and could hold back the tears no longer. She filmed his body, thinking of his fiancee, even now waiting eagerly back on Earth, and hoped fervently that the woman never saw this footage.

Cara filmed survivors, too. Their faces, blank with shock, or twisted with raw grief, or tight with pain, were just as hard to bear. Finishing, she wished she could turn her memory off as easily as she'd just ordered off the autocam.

By the time she was finished, she was wrung out, but she forced herself to walk with her head up, her shoulders straight. When she reached the shadow cast by the wrecked ship, she found her friends kneeling on the sand in the middle of a small circle of sorted supplies, methodically cramming two knapsacks.

Mark looked up as she drew near. "We're almost ready. Did you finish filming?"

She nodded, looking around the immediate area. The fear that she'd find, upon returning to her group, one more small body had been haunting her.

"Where is Misir?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Mark caught the tone in her voice and glanced up at her quickly. "The baby's still alive, Cara. But still unconscious." He waved at the pile of supplies. "We were lucky. Our luggage was intact. Time to get changed for the journey.

Wear a couple of layers with white on the outside if you can, to protect yourself from the sun. And find something to put over your head." He held up a pair of socks. "Bring extra shoes, and all the socks you can. Changing shoes and socks on a long hike helps prevent blisters."

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Cara looked at the outfit Mark had chosen for their trek, loose, white exercise pants, a fuzzy-looking beige sweater, and, over it, a long, loose white shirt.

"Won't that
sweater be too hot?"

Mark shrugged. "Don't forget, it gets cold at night in the desert. But I picked this material mostly for Terris. It's almost the same color and texture as hinsi's father was. Easy for hinsi to cling to, also." The baby was still fast asleep.

"I'm surprised they don't fall off when they sleep like that," Cara said.

Opening her suitcase, she pawed through it, pulling out her sturdiest clothes.

Her hand brushed the silky material of the red party dress and she jerked it away, remembering Ryan again.

After she had changed and packed her chosen clothing, including

"borrowing" several pairs of socks from two women who were staying with the ship, Cara rejoined the group, finding Hrrakk' and R'Thessra there ahead of her. The Apis seemed impossibly frail next to his solid bulk.
They're
certainly the oddest couple there ever was,
she thought.

Hrrakk' was the largest Simiu Cara had ever seen. His broad, heavy shoulders and the hard planes of muscle in his more lightly furred haunches spoke of a dangerous strength. The top-knotted tail that Simiu carry straight up usually gave them an unintentionally perky or playful look ... or so Cara had thought when describing the Simiu students at StarBridge. But there was nothing playful about this one; his tail was just another part of his wary alertness.

A rich, bronze mane flowed over the Simiu's shoulders and ran up the back of his head to become a flame-colored crest. Around one massive ankle was a coppery circlet of the sort favored by some Simiu clans. Embedded in it was a huge, deep red gem. The anklet gave Hrrakk' a rakish, rather barbaric air.

When he saw the alien sit down nearby, Mark stood up and made the

gesture that was the Simiu greeting sign. It wasn't returned. Hrrakk' squatted on the sand, regarding the humans with unblinking--and unfriendly--violet eyes.

He's
got
to be from the Harkk'ett clan, Cara thought sourly, remembering all the pleasant, friendly Simiu she'd met at StarBridge.
Why did we have to be
so unlucky as to be stuck

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with him? Dammit, this trip is going to be hard enough!

Mark squared his shoulders. "It's time to go," he said, in Mizari. "Let's stay within sight of each other, in case anyone needs help. We'll set the best pace we can and with luck, we'll reach the nahah before the other teams reach those Wopind settlements. Maybe the Elspind can help us keep the other two teams from falling into Wopind hands."

His eyes met Cara's with a question, and she nodded to show she was understanding his Mizari, sending him an encouraging smile at the same time. The stiffness in his back told her how uncomfortable he was, taking on the role of leader.

Mark brought out the little plotter map, extending it toward the Simiu. Cara thought for a moment Hrrakk' wouldn't take it, but finally he did. The little instrument was almost lost in the Simiu's huge palm.