The skimmer had a clear, enclosed cabin in which the navigation instruments were housed. There was room inside for the pilot and one or two passengers to shelter in the event of a storm. Since they had left Try Again, however, Cidra and Severance had been sitting in the stern of the craft, which was open. That had suited Cidra just fine because she was fascinated with the scenery. The river seemed to have its own scent, a distinctive combination of vegetation and water thick with life. Unfortunately Severance had utilized the privacy afforded in the back of the skimmer to continue with his endless commentary on the events in the bio lab.
Cidra shifted slightly, vaguely uncomfortable in her new clothes. She had never before worn anything but one of the formal Harmonic surplice robes, and she felt odd. The tough fabric of the trousers and long-sleeved shirt Desma had insisted she wear were rough against skin that had only known the touch of finely spun crystal moss. The garments were designed in the manner of the functional uniforms worn by most people on Renaissance: snug trousers and a cool, loose-fitting shirt. The fabric was heavy and largely insect-proof, although it wouldn’t be much help against something the size of a Bloodsucker. There was a hood that could be drawn over the head in the event of bad weather or a swarm of flying creatures such as the stinging bandini Desma had described. When she moved around, Cidra was aware of a sensation of being partially undressed. It seemed to her that the trousers and shirt defined her body too revealingly. More than once she had caught Severance eyeing her in the new clothes. He seemed especially fascinated with the shape of her buttocks.
In spite of the excitement in Desma’s lab, Severance had seen to it that he and Cidra had left on time that morning. The mail must go through, Cidra thought humorously, especially when it was COD. At least she’d had a chance late yesterday afternoon to query the official Try Again Archive computer. The company in charge of maintaining it had charged a fee for access. Cidra was learning that the competitive free enterprise system that was so much a part of the worlds of Stanza Nine was especially fierce on Renaissance. Nothing was free here.
There hadn’t been time to do a thorough search, and she hadn’t had time to study what she had copied onto data slips, but she had the slips with her and fully intended to read them during the journey. Overcash had said that they would arrive at the ExcellEx field camp in two days’ time. He would be returning as soon as he had dropped off the supplies, and Severance had promised Cidra that they would be going back with the pilot to Try Again,
“Four days of sight-seeing on this river is more than enough,” he had said with a touch of grimness.
Cidra had agreed with him initially because she was so anxious to continue with her research. But now, as she watched the awesome scenery sweep past, she wasn’t so sure. She was familiar with holotapes and data slip reproductions of Renaissance, but nothing could convey a true picture of the incredible, overly lush tangle of vegetation. Nor could any holotype duplicate the startling quantity of animal life. Four days wouldn’t be nearly enough to drink in this amazing world, Cidra decided.
When the skimmer rounded a sweeping bend in the river and started up a long, straight stretch, Overcash locked the guide stick and came out of the cabin to join his passengers. He was a big man, taller than Severance and built along heavy, chunky lines. Cidra suspected that the chunkiness wasn’t composed of much fat but was just muscle. His face was deeply tanned, made up of blunt features carved with a heavy hand. He had all the assurance of physical strength one would want in a guide in this wild land. Overcash stood with one thumb hooked into the utility loop he wore and nodded at Cidra.
“Enjoying the scenery, Otanna?’
She inclined her head, surprised by the polite title. “It’s fascinating. But please call me Cidra.”
Overcash nodded agreeably. “Ever been to Renaissance before?”
“Never.”
“Kinda overwhelming at first. But you get used to it. There’s a thousand different fortunes to be made here, Maybe ten thousand if you’re willing to work for bonus credit.” His narrowed gaze swept along the passing riverbank. “Assuming a man survives to make his haul.”
“I understood that statistically most workers are safe now, as long as they follow the company rules and safety regulations,” Cidra noted. “I thought the accident rate had declined sharply during the last few years with the invention of the deflectors.”
Overcash laughed, a big booming sound that echoed along the water and caused a stir of activity in a tree on the bank. Something with a wingspan that seemed much too wide lifted into the air, its long, toothed beak outlined evilly against the sky.
“The statistics are probably accurate. Any renegade who wants to work hard and follow the rules can make a nice salary and probably stay out of trouble. But that’s not how you make real credit on this planet. The companies all have what they like to call bonus plans. Take a few risks for your firm and you’re guaranteed a bonus. ‘Course, you got to survive to collect the bonus. I’m not sure how many bonus men who don’t come back make it into the statistics. Companies got a way of doing things to statistics.”
Severance threw a glance at the pilot. “And Renaissance has a way of doing things to bonus men.”
“Yeah, well, it’s like Free Market. Got to take a risk now and then, or it’s not worth playing the game. You know that, Severance.”
Cidra’s mind winced at the philosophy. Having not played Free Market since Severance Pay had set down at Try Again, she had deliberately forgotten some of her odd, increasing enthusiasm for it. Severance obviously hadn’t forgotten, however. He grinned wickedly.
At least he was smiling at her, even if he was showing his teeth. It was far more pleasant than being chewed on. Cidra looked down over the side of the skimmer. The thick water was ruffled on the surface from the effects of the skimmer’s lift thrust. As the skimmer swept past she thought she saw another set of cold, wide-set eyes hovering a few centimeters under water. In that brief moment Cidra glimpsed the outline of a frighteningly long body. Perhaps Severance was right; getting a close-up view of a dracon might not be very pleasant. The eyes she had seen reminded her of some of Desma’s lab creatures.
“Everything here on Renaissance seems to be out to eat everything else,” she remarked.
“Just don’t decide to trail your fingers in the water when we stop for the evening,” Severance advised.
“I won’t.” She glanced at Overcash. “Do we stay on board the skimmer tonight?”
“No. Some dracon or a skater might decide to get playful. Skimmers are safest when they’re in motion. We’ll stay on shore.”
“Is that any safer?”
Overcash chuckled. “Sure. We’ve got the heavy-duty deflectors and the armor tents. No problem. If something does decide to come looking for a midnight snack, we’ll have plenty of warning. Not much can get through a deflector. Severance, here, wouldn’t have brought you along if there was any real danger.”
“On the contrary,” Severance informed him. “I had to bring her along because she digs up the worst trouble when she’s on her own.”
They turned off the main river later that afternoon, swinging into a tributary that wasn’t quite as thick with sediment as the first waterway had been. This river was also narrower than the first, and the walls of vegetation on either side seemed to loom higher and closer. But that might be just a trick of the waning light, Cidra told herself. She realized that she wasn’t looking forward to camping out this evening.
As if he sensed her uneasiness, Severance became more talkative. He gave her a dissertation on how effective the big deflector screens were and how they had revolutionized field maps on Renaissance. The invisible grids they produced were based on the same principle as the Screamer. They were set to repel any creature with nerve impulses different than those of human beings.
“I get the feeling that some things out there haven’t even got nerves.” But Cidra made the observation with a smile to show Severance that she wasn’t
really worried. Wonderful what Harmonic training could do when it came to covering up one’s true feelings. Or perhaps she was so adept at it because she had been covering up the Wolf side of herself for so many years.
Overcash chose the campsite just as the shadows along the river became uncomfortably long. With the instinct of a good guide he managed to find a rare break in the undergrowth. Carefully he slowed the skimmer, letting it sink down onto the water. The craft rocked slightly in the lethargic current while the pilot made it fast. A flexible landing plank emerged when Overcash activated a control panel.
“I don’t see enough room here to erect a couple of tents,” Cidra observed, eyeing the bank. The vegetation was thinner along this stretch of bank, but it was still fairly spectacular to her eyes. She watched as a small, wriggly creature flashed on the bank and slid into the water. Cidra had a mental picture of it sliding just as easily into a tent.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make a little space for ourselves.” Overcash went into the cabin and came back with a long-barreled machine that had a squat base.
“What’s that?” Cidra asked.
“A crisper.” Overcash switched on the machine, and a narrow band of white flame jumped out, searing the vegetation it touched. With a few sweeping movements the guide cleared a relatively large area along the bank. The undergrowth that had fallen into the path of the crisper smoked for a moment, wilted, and then disintegrated.
“I guess that’s one way of dealing with too many weeds.” Cidra was a little appalled by the small devastation.
“Too bad this thing hasn’t got a longer range,” Overcash remarked, stowing the machine. “It would make a useful weapon.”
The deflector screens were hauled out next. They were charged on the skimmer’s power cells and then carried ashore. Severance helped the pilot set them up so that they produced a grid that completely encircled the campsite. Occasional tiny hissing noises gave notice that the screens were working. Inside the protected area the light metal tents were erected—two of them, Cidra noticed. Severance moved his and Cidra’s small travel packs into one. Neither he nor Overcash seemed to have any interest in how Cidra felt about the sleeping situation. It was apparently a foregone conclusion that she belonged in Severance’s tent. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Among Wolves it was clear that when a man and a woman spent time together, it was assumed that they had a sexual relationship.
Well, she thought bracingly, she’d already lived with him for two weeks in the confines of a mail ship. This wasn’t much more intimate, all things considered. She just wished she had a proper sleeping robe. It occurred to her that she might be expected to undress before she climbed into the air-cushioned sleepers. The thought of sleeping naked was more unnerving than most of her other recent experiences. She couldn’t do it.
The background clamor of the jungle changed perceptibly as the night shift took possession of the premises. The deflectors had no effect on the sounds that permeated the shadows, and Cidra found the clickings, clackings, screams, and cries disturbing. Severance had had the forethought to insure that some vegetarian prespacs were on board the skimmer, and she flashed him a look of gratitude when hers came out of the portable food heater. He had also made sure a few containers of his beloved ale were on board.
It was going to be a long night.
Hours later, Severance lay awake in his sleeper, aware of the tension in the woman lying next to him. Her body was insulated from his by the plastic fabric of the sleepers, but Cidra was lying so still, she was clearly wide-awake.
He had said nothing when she had crawled into the sleeper wearing her clothing. She clearly had not felt comfortable in the trousers and shirt all day, so he had resisted the urge to tell her what a sweet, sassy little rear she had. Harmonic males undoubtedly did not say things like that to their women. Harmonic males didn’t even think in terms of “their women.”
But Wolves did think in such primitive terms, Severance was discovering. Like it or not, he was starting to think of Cidra that way. “Company property” he had called her, but she hadn’t seemed to realize just what he was saying. His feelings of possessiveness were stronger than ever, yet he hadn’t even had her in his bed. He wondered how he would ever get as far as QED without trying to seduce her. The only option he had—terminating her crew contract—was not one he wanted to consider. She would fall into the path of some piece of second-class mail like Racer.
Severance turned onto his side, watching Cidra’s too-tense outline. The movement made him aware of the second pulser he had stowed under his sleeper. The Screamer was in the utility loop that hung within reach, and he could put out his hand and touch the first pulser, the one he had worn strapped to his thigh during the day. He’d had the second one in his travel pack and, as a general precaution, had decided to sleep on top of it. Renaissance was a dangerous planet, and not all the hazards were from its natural flora and fauna. Some of them were man-made.
Seeing Racer two nights ago had made Severance remember just how dangerous the human species could be. A part of him still burned with a frozen flame of anger as he recalled the emotion that had shot through him when he’d entered the Bloodsucker and seen Racer sitting with Cidra. There was no way he could have left Cidra behind on this trip. She might have been reasonably safe from the perils of Port Try Again, but she wouldn’t have been safe from Racer. Every gut-level instinct had warned Severance that Racer would have found a way to use Cidra.
“Severance?”
The quiet whisper of her voice made him jump. “What is it, Cidra?”
“Are you awake?”
“No, I’m just making conversation in my sleep.” He smiled to himself as she wriggled around in the sleeper to face him.
“Do you hear those weird clanking sounds?”
He could barely see her face in the shadows, but he sensed the genuine tension in her voice. “I hear them. Probably zalons. They’ve got shells as hard as armor. And they like to fight a lot. Sometimes you can hear the clanking for several kilometers. They’re huge, but they eat only plants.”
“Why do they fight?”
“Male zalons fight over female zalons. Mating rituals. They mate frequently.”
“Everything on Lovelady and Renaissance seems to mate frequently,” she said, almost to herself. “Desma told me she has four children.”
“That’s a small family by Wolf standards. Last I heard, the average number of children was over five per family.”
“I can’t even imagine having brothers and sisters. When I was growing up, there were hardly any other children in Clementia.”
Her voice trailed off but not before Severance picked up the unspoken inference. He knew without being told that those other children hadn’t provided much in the way of companionship for the little Wolf born among Harmonics.
“My family was smaller than average too. I only had one brother,” he heard himself say.
“The one who was a Harmonic?”
“Yes.” He was quiet for a while. “Jeude was a late bloomer in a sense. We didn’t realize he was a Harmonic until he was in his late teens. Just thought he was a little different—quiet and thoughtful. A bit eccentric in some ways. My parents had just begun to acknowledge that he might be Harmonic when they were killed.”
“Oh, Severance,” she said gently, “what happened?”
“They were geologists with a big mining company on QED. There was an accident. An explosion.” He sensed her movement, and the next thing he knew, she was stretching out her hand to touch his. “Jeude took it hard. Very hard. And he refused to be separated from me after that. He wouldn’t hear of being sent to Clementia.”
“So you let him run mail with you?”
“He was good at it. Very determined. Once in a while I let him take a ship out alone while I made deliveries and arranged contracts here on Renaissance or on Lovelady. He liked going to QED by himself with just Fred along for company. Said it gave him a lot of time to think. I knew I should have
insisted he go to Clementia for training, but he kept resisting the idea and Ijust didn’t have the heart to force him. He got killed because of my lousy judgment.”
“Was he killed on that red plain? The one you light-painted on board ship?”
She might not be a Harmonic, but there were times when the lady was too damn intuitive. “He went straight into the ground answering a distress signal in a QED sandstorm. Nothing that flies can survive one of those storms. The only thing a pilot can do is run from them. But Jeude didn’t run.” Severance felt his hand clench into a fist under the sleeper cover. Very deliberately he forced himself to flatten out his palm. “Fred survived. The rescue crew found him wrapped around Jeude’s leg when they arrived. The ship was destroyed, pieces of it scattered over a wide area. They never did find all the cargo.”
“I’m so sorry, Severance.”
“I know.” He didn’t doubt it for a moment. Cidra’s compassion was as real as her ability with Moonlight and Mirrors. Sweetness and light were her inner core of strength. He shook off the brooding feeling as he thought about the conflicting image. “It’s in the past, Cidra. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.” Severance rubbed his eyes wearily, thinking that he hadn’t talked about Jeude to anyone for a long time.
She didn’t press him. Her hand slipped back into her sleeper, and she turned on her back to stare at the low ceiling of the tent. Another distant clanking sound echoed in the night, and a small scream split the air close to the camp.
“Overcash is right. Renaissance is somewhat overwhelming,” Cidra said quietly.
“Frightened?”
“No, of course not. I understand about the security systems and the deflectors and all. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Cidra . . .’
“Too bad they haven’t come up with some way of blocking out some of the night noises, though. It’s very hard to sleep with so much jungle racket.”