But that one American was Dr. Emilia Patroosh, the woman who had gone with him to Energy Island; and so Giyt had his answer to at least one question.
He got to the portal just as its golden glow collapsed. Besides the obligatory eetie mayors, twenty or thirty Earth humans were waiting to greet them. Most of them, he saw with some surprise, seemed to come from the fire company, both Hagbarths among them. Olse glanced at Giyt as he arrived and gave him a small, reproving shake of the head.
But she didn’t speak, because both the Hagbarths had more important things on their minds. As soon as the transmission was complete, Hagbarth leaped down from his post in the control loop and advanced on the six Earth delegates, all smiles, hand outstretched to reach any other hand it could reach. He wasn’t the only one. A dozen of the other Earth humans, Olse included, were moving purposefully to greet the newcomers.
The plenipotentiaries were an oddly assorted lot for Tupelo. One was a tall, mournful-looking woman with purple-black skin and a bright bandanna over her head—a Maasai from Kenya, according to what the roster had said. There was an elderly Swiss man and an even older Korean one; one Egyptian, one New Zealander . . . and Dr. Patroosh.
She was the one who counted. Giyt tried to push his way toward her . . .
And got nowhere. A large hand gripped his arm and a voice from behind said, “Want to do something useful for a change, Giyt? Give us a hand with the goddamn baggage.”
It was Wili Tschopp, looking unfriendly. Giyt tried to pull his arm free, without success, as Tschopp was tugging him toward the stack of bags and cases. “Let go,” Giyt said. “I want to talk to Dr. Patroosh.”
“But she don’t want to talk to you, Giyt,” Tschopp said reasonably. “Look, she’s gone already.”
And she just about was; Hagbarth was deferentially helping her into one of the waiting carts and getting in beside her. Most of the other ambassadors were boarding carts as well, except for the tall Maasai woman, searching through the baggage for something of her own, pausing to look at them curiously. “What’s the trouble?” she asked, her voice surprisingly deep.
“Nothing,” Tschopp said while Giyt simultaneously said:
“I’m the mayor here. I’ve got something important to say to Dr. Patroosh.”
“Oh,” said the woman, peering down at his face. “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”
“Then help me—”
But she was shaking her head. “I do not think I can,” she said. “We’re here to represent our whole planet, Mr. Giyt; we can’t get involved in local disputes like this recall question. Dr, Patroosh shouldn’t talk to you at all, and neither should I.”
XXIII
This is your overnight weather report. Farm areas west of the central massif will experience occasional showers, growing heavier by daybreak. East of the massif, upper levels, possible showers and windy; at town level, partly cloudy with a high of twenty-four degrees; near shore, warmer but dry. The polar station has a 90 percent probability of a major snow event, as the hurricane which narrowly missed the islands has moved north by northeast and appears to be joining a circumpolar low, possibly creating near-blizzard conditions.
Evesham Giyt wasn’t in the habit of taking no for an answer; especially when the no came from someone other than the person he wanted to ask. Although it was the middle of the night, as soon as he got home he tried calling Dr. Patroosh. She didn’t answer, neither on her personal access code nor the one for the house she had been assigned. When the fourth or fifth call wasn’t answered he put his clothes back on, called for a cart, and had himself driven over to the house. It was as dark as all the others around it, both human and eetie, and no one responded to his knock.
Frowning, Giyt went home again. There had to be a way to reach the Earth delegate, but what was it? With Rina softly snuffling—you couldn’t call it snoring—in the next room, he sat down at the screen again.
There wasn’t much for him there, either. When Giyt tried to access the polar manufacturing program again, he once again got the manual control legend.
That was highly improbable. It was also what he had more or less expected. Something was definitely fishy at the polar factories, and try as he would he could not find a way into the mystery.
The answers were either on Earth or at the Pole itself. Going to Earth wasn’t an option, if only because his departure would be a victory for Hoak Hagbarth. Should he go to the Pole, then? When he checked the schedules he found the suborbital rocket was on the island, due to return to the Pole the next day. He could bully his way onto it as mayor, he thought.
But he wanted to know what was happening on Earth, too.
It didn’t take Evesham Giyt long to find an answer to that. He set about creating a super-scout, the most complicated of his career, to sniff through the entire net until it found just what Hagbarth and his gang were up to.
It took time. It would take more time than that to produce any data that would be any use to him; he encoded it to go to Earth in the next transmission, but then, even after it had found out what he wanted to know—if it did—it would have to wait for another transmission to report back to him.
At least it was a tangible step. When weariness finally drove Giyt to bed he felt he had accomplished something.
Dawn was lightening in the east when the din of Kalkaboo fireworks woke him. They seemed louder than usual; some of them must be expiating particularly nasty sins, Giyt thought, maybe to impress the delegates from their home planets. By the time he was dressing after his shower the noise had stopped, the sun was well and truly up, and Rina stuck her head in their bedroom to remind him that there was a note on his screen. The Centaurians were arriving.
Giyt had more or less got used to the arrival of these foreign dignitaries without quite knowing what was going to happen at any of them. Each was different. This time, although it was hardly more than dawn, what looked like every Centaurian on Tupelo was there before him. in the first rank he recognized Mrs. Brownbenttalon and her newly elevated daughter, Mrs. Whitenose. There might have been others he knew, but he couldn’t pick them out in the mass of several hundred of the great females, with their smaller males and young romping around among them. When they saw Giyt they made way for him to join the other mayors in the front row, but he detoured as he caught sight of Hoak Hagbarth lurking by the portal.
“Hagbarth!” he called. “Wait a minute.”
The Ex-Earth man had already hastily turned to take his place at the control switch, but he was blocked by a dozen Centaurian females crowding toward the portal. “Listen,” Giyt panted, catching up to him. “I really need to talk to Dr. Patroosh.”
“But she doesn’t want to talk to you, Giyt.”
“I’ll believe that when I hear it from herself. Mind telling me where she is?”
“I do mind, and, listen, Giyt, even if I didn’t, don’t you think the lady would like to be left alone? Considering what time those poor people finally got to bed? Considering they got a full day’s work ahead of them? Now would you please let me get this bunch in?”
There was no arguing with that. The Delt in the control group was already screeching furiously at Hagbarth to join them. Disgruntled, Giyt took his place in the rank of mayors. He hardly noticed when the chime sounded, the portal began to glow, the door opened, and the four Centaurian VIP females, their husbands peering excitedly out of their fur, emerged. He was considering his next action. Perhaps Patroosh was staying at the Hagbarth house; he could go there and demand entrance—preferably before Hagbarth himself got there.