“And I’m certainly going to spend as much time as possible outside, observing and collecting,” said Alicia. “This site is a good example of a relatively rich current-fed ecosystem.”
“You do that,” said Rob. “I can keep the hab running, Josef’s got the sub to tend, and we’ve got a month’s worth of food. When we get tired of each other we can go check out the other Coquille. It’s like a little vacation.”
Gishora only noticed the missing humans at the eve ning meal. He counted those present, and the count came up six short.
“Tizhos!” he called over their private link. “Gather the Guardians and search the habitat. Six of the humans have gone missing.”
While Gishora made sure nobody entered or left the common room, Tizhos and the four Guardians made a systematic sweep through the habitat modules. They could not account for six of the humans. A search of the dive room revealed that their suits were gone as well, and when Tizhos led two Guardians outside, they found no trace of the submarine.
She reported back to Gishora in person. “I believe they have left the station.”
Gishora motioned Vikram Sen over. “Doctor Sen, I would like you to tell us where the missing people have gone.”
“I am very sorry but unfortunately I have no idea where they are,” said Sen. “Nobody at the station knows.”
“I want you to tell me what purpose they intend to accomplish.”
“As to that, you must understand that I did not order them to leave, so this is entirely speculation on my part. But it may well be that they have left Hitode because they don’t want to be dragged to the elevator, hauled up to the surface, and forced aboard your space vehicle. But, as I say, that is just speculation.”
“It seems a foolish act,” said Gishora. “They can remain outside in their suits for a dozen hours, possibly as long as two dozen, but no longer. They will accomplish nothing.”
Tizhos had been consulting her personal computer, and rubbed against Gishora to get his attention. “I see a problem,” she said in their own language.
“Tell me.”
“The humans brought along two temporary shelters, to aid in exploration. I did not see either of them outside when I searched. According to the mission plan, each one can support three humans for several weeks.”
Gishora turned back to Vikram Sen and spoke in English. “Tell me if they have taken the temporary shelters.”
“What a clever idea!” said Sen. “With the submarine they could take the Coquilles a considerable distance. You are going to have a very difficult time finding them.”
“Tell me if you have a way to communicate with them. You must ask them to return.”
“Sadly, no. They are undoubtedly beyond hydrophone range. Perhaps if you stop removing people from the station they will return.”
Gishora was silent for a moment, then spoke to the whole room. “I must state that this action represents a very uncooperative attitude,” he said, then beckoned Tizhos to follow him back to their room.
At first he walked slowly, but halfway there he seemed to brighten up, and his pace became almost jaunty.
They gave Irona the bad news over a secure link to the ship in orbit. Tizhos thought the whole idea of encrypting their conversation seemed rather silly—after all, the humans could listen to what they were saying by simply putting an ear to the door of their room. But serious matters demanded the formality of pointless security.
“It saddens me to report that some of the humans have fled the station,” said Gishora.
“I don’t think I understand,” said Irona. “Explain how they can survive.”
“Consult the original exploration plan: the humans brought along two small portable shelters.”
“Yes, I remember now. We used diplomatic pressure to prevent them from expanding across the planet with these so-called ‘temporary’ bases.”
“They have now deployed them, and six humans now hide somewhere on the ocean floor. Vikram Sen claims they do this to protest our actions here,” said Gishora. “He says they acted without his permission.”
“It surprises me that you believe such a statement,” said Irona. “You often describe humans as rule-bound and hierarchical. It seems more reasonable that they have a plan. They challenge us to take action.”
“I prefer to wait them out,” said Gishora. “They cannot have an indefinite supply of food.”
“We can assume nothing. Our own supplies cannot last forever, and those of us in orbit will eventually get too much radiation exposure. The humans may wish to keep our ship here until Terran military forces can arrive. You may not have considered that.”
From his sudden change in posture Tizhos could see that, indeed, Gishora had not thought of that. The notion seemed ridiculous—did the Terrans even have military forces that could reach Ilmatar and fight a Sholen ship? But the idea appeared to disturb Gishora a great deal. “I wish to avoid conflict if we can,” he said.
“Then I believe we must capture these hiding humans as quickly as possible,” said Irona. “Get all of them aboard and then leave this world. If you remember, I said at the very beginning that the success of this mission depends on rapid action.”
“Above all we must avoid violence,” said Gishora. “The humans may return on their own.”
“I doubt that,” said Irona, and Tizhos could almost smell the scent of scorn through the video link. “We must retain the initiative and send out searchers.”
“If you think we can do that without provoking greater conflict, I agree,” said Gishora.
“I do. Tell me if you need more Guardians. I can send more down with the elevator, now that we control it.”
“No,” said Gishora quickly. “This station can barely accomodate the six already here. Wait until more of the humans leave. Tizhos and I will try to find where the humans hide. It may take a little while,” said Gishora, and broke the link.
“Tell me if you really believe we have enough Guardians,” said Tizhos as soon as she was sure Irona couldn’t hear.
“I do. Vikram Sen has said the humans will not cooperate, but will not fight us, either. The six Guardians already here seem sufficient. And we still have no idea where the missing humans have hidden themselves, so they may yet return.”
“Oh, but I do know their location!” said Tizhos. “One of the shelters, at least. Remember that I have explored the station computer network. Their submarine automatically joins that network whenever it comes within laser link range. The station system keeps a copy of the submarine’s log, including position and time rec ords. Look here!” She happily manipulated her terminal, connecting to the Hitode system and calling up the submarine logs. “After taking away the first shelter the submarine returned and the log automatically updated. You can see the complete profile of its voyage.”
Gishora looked disappointed. “Explain why we still have access to the station’s network at all,” he asked after a moment.
“Oh, we don’t. Vikram Sen locked us out shortly after you asked the humans to leave Ilmatar. But as part of our investigation I got copies of the dead Henri Kerlerec’s files, including his codes and passwords. They still work. Sen has not deleted him yet.”
“Well done, Tizhos,” said Gishora, though he still did not sound pleased. “But I feel we can wait a few days before sending these results up to Irona. I don’t want to rush if I can avoid it.”
Tizhos’s sense of triumph faded and she cringed. “I have bad news, then. I have made it my habit to send up copies of all my notes and logs every few hours. Irona already has this information, if he chooses to look.”
Gishora cuffed her, but not hard. No more than a token gesture. “I fear that means we can’t delay too long in telling him about your discovery. Someone may compare times and dates later on. Tomorrow, then—but not too early.” He slumped on his cushions and looked beaten. “I hoped to use this delay to spend more time studying Ilmatar. Instead we must continue to act like warriors. I hate it.”