“Shuttle fuel by the smell of it, Paul,” he reported. “A homing capsule wouldn’t take much.”
“It would take know-how,” Paul said grimly. “And expertise, and you and I know just how many people are capable of handling that sort of technology.” He looked Fulmar square in the eye, and the man’s shoulders sagged. “Not your fault, Fulmar. I had your report and others. I just didn’t put the pieces together.”
“Who’d have thought Ted’d pull such a crazy stunt? No one believes half of what he says!” Fulmar protested.
Emily and the others came back then from an inconclusive search.
“There’re a lot of skid marks, Paul,” she reported. “And rubbish.” She indicated a collapsed fuel sack and a handful of connectors and wires. Fulmar’s look of desolation deepened.
“We’re wasting time here,” Paul said, curbing his irritation.
“Let’s have Cherry and Cabot waiting in my office,” Emily murmured as they climbed into the sled.
He’s proud of what he did,” Joel stormed when Paul and Emily called him into Emily’s office on their return. “Says it was his duty to save the colony. Says we’ll be surprised at how many people agree with him.
“He’s the one who’ll be surprised,” Emily replied. Her jaw was set in a resolute line, and her lips curved in a curious smile, which her tired eyes did not echo.
“Yeah, Em, but what can we do to him?” Joel demanded in impotent indignation.
Emily poured herself a fresh cup of klah and took a sip before she answered. “He will be shunned.”
“Who will be shunned?” Cherry Duff demanded in her hoarse voice, entering the room at that instant. Cabot Carter was right behind her, having escorted the magistrate from her office in reply to the summons.
“Shunned?” Carter’s handsome face was enlivened by a smile that grew broader as he looked expectantly from Paul to Emily, then faded slightly as he saw the dour storesman.
Paul grinned back. “Shunned!”
“Shunned?” Joel exclaimed in a disgusted tone.
Emily gestured Cherry into the comfortable chair and motioned for the others to be seated. Then, at a nod from Paul, she gave a terse report that culminated in Tubberman’s illicit use of the homing capsule.
“So we’re to order Tubberman shunned, huh?” Cherry looked around at Carter.
“It’s legal all right, Cherry,” the legist replied, “since it is not a corporal punishment, per se, which is illegal under the terms of the charter.”
“Refresh me on such a process,” Cherry said, her tone doubly droll.
“Shunning was a mechanism,” Emily began, “whereby passive groups could discipline an erring member. Religious communities resorted to it when someone of their sect disobeyed their peculiar tenets. Quite effective really. The rest of the sect pretended the offending member didn’t exist. No one spoke to him, no one acknowledged his presence, no one would assist the shunned in any way, or indicate that he – or she – existed. It doesn’t seem cruel, but in fact the deprivation is psychologically destructive.”
“It’ll do,” Cherry said, nodding in satisfaction. “An admirable punishment for someone like Tubberman. Admirable!”
“And completely legal!” Cabot concurred. “Shall I draft the announcement, Emily, or do you prefer to do it, Cherry?”
Cherry flicked her hand at him. “You do it, Cabot. I’m sure you learned all the right phrases. But do explain exactly what shunning entails. Not that most of us aren’t so fed up with the man’s ranting and rumors that they won’t be delighted to have an official excuse to . . . ah . . . shun him! Shun him!” She tipped back her head and gave a hoot of outrageous laughter. “By all that’s holy – and legal – I like that, Emily. I like that a lot! “ In an abrupt switch of mood with no leavening of humor, she added, “It’ll cool a lot of hotheads.” She swept Paul and Emily with a shrewd look. “Tubberman didn’t do it by himself. Who helped?”
We’ve no proof,” Paul began in the same minute that Joel said, “Stev Kimmer, Bart Lemos, and maybe Nabhi Nabol.”
“Let’s shun them, too,” Cherry cried, banging the arm of her chair with her thin old hands. “Damn it, we don’t need dissension. We need support, cooperation, hard work. Or we won’t survive. Oh, flaming hells!” She raised both hands up high. “What’ll we do if that capsule brings those blood-sucking FSP salvagers down on us?”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Joel answered her, rolling his eyes.
Cherry gave him a hard stare. “I’m relieved to know there is something you won’t make book on, Lilienkamp. All right, so what do we do about Tubberman’s accomplices?”
Cabot leaned over to touch her arm lightly. “First we have to prove that they were, Cherry.” He looked expectantly at Paul and Emily. “The charter says that a person is judged innocent until proven guilty.”
“We watch ‘em,” Paul said. “We watch ‘em. Carter, compose that notice and see that it’s posted throughout Landing, and that every stakeholder is apprised of the fact. Cherry, will you impose the sentence on Tubberman?” He held out his arm to assist her to her feet?”
“With the greatest of satisfaction. What a superb way to get rid of a bore,” she added under her breath as she marched forward. The unholy joy on her face brightened Joel Lilienkamp’s mood as he followed them, rubbing his hands together.
The messenger was quite happy to bring a copy of the official notice to Bay and Wind Blossom, on duty in the large incubator chamber. The room was separated from the main laboratory and insulated against temperature changes and noise. The incubator itself stood on heavy shock absorbers, so that in the precarious early stages the embryos in their sacs could not be jarred by equipment moved around the main laboratory.
Although eggs within a natural womb, or even in a proper shell, could handle a great deal of trauma, the initial ex utero fertilization and alteration had been too delicate to risk the most minute jolt. Development was not yet canalized, nor was the new genetic structure balanced, and any variation in the embryos’ environment would doubtless cause damage. Later, when the eggs were at the stage when naturally they would have been laid in a clutch, they would be transferred to the building where a warmed sand ‘flooring and artificial sun lamps imitated the natural conditions in which dragonet eggs hatched. That point was several weeks ahead.
Special low-light viewing panels had been created, so no light filtered into the womblike darkness while observers had a clear view of the incubator’s precious contents. A portable magnifier had been devised which could be set at any position on the incubator’s four glass sides for very coarse and routine inspections. In the laboratories of First and Earth, each developing embryo would have been remotely monitored and recorded. But, in Pern’s relatively primitive conditions, about which Wind Blossom constantly complained, the necessity for the avoidance of any toxic substances at all meant that no sensors could be allowed close to the embryos in the culture chambers.
Bay was jotting down Wind Blossom’s assessment when the messenger delivered the notice. The lad was quite willing to explain any part of the shunning, but Bay shooed him off on his rounds.
“How extraordinary,” Bay said when she had finished reading it aloud to Blossom. “Really, Ted has been quite a nuisance lately. Did you hear those rumors he was spreading, Blossom? As if that wretched Bitra had anything but her own plans in mind when she stole the Mariposa. Going for help, indeed!” She squinted loyally into the incubator at its forty-two hopes for their future. “But to send off a homing capsule when we most specifically voted against such an action.”
“I am relieved,” Wind Blossom said, sighing gently.
“Yes, he was beginning to upset you,” Bay remarked kindly. “She tried to tell herself that the woman was still grieving for her grandmother. There were moments recently, though, when Bay wanted to remind Blossom that it was not just the Yung family who had suffered a grievous loss. She had not, because Blossom had been rather volatile lately and might interpret such a comment as an aspersion on her ability to proceed with her grandmother’s brilliant genetic-engineering program. As her mother’s primary assistant, she was technically in charge of the program on file in the biology Mark 42 computer. Bay, too, had scanned it to familiarize herself with the procedure. Kitti Ping had left copious notes on how to proceed, anticipating those possible minor alignments, balancing, or other compensations that might be needed. She had apparently anticipated everything but her own death.