“Co-leader Varian is perfectly correct that the Iretans are not responsible for the mutiny or its effects. At the same time, it’s in the interests of FSP to see that this planet is not opened to exploitation, and that the Iretans assimilate into the Federation with as little friction as possible. They’ve been told a pack of lies, as near as we can telclass="underline" they think that the original team was made up of heavyworlders, and abandoned unfairly. They expected help from heavyworlders only, and apparently think heavyworlders and lightweights cannot cooperate.
“We have the chance to show them that heavyworlders are assimilated, and welcome, in our society. We all know about the problems - Major Currald has had to put up with harrassment, as have most if not all heavyworlders in Fleet - but he and the others in Fleet believe that the two types of humans are more alike than different. If we can drive a friendly wedge between those young people and that heavyworlder colony ship - if we can make it clear that they have a chance to belong to a larger universe - perhaps they’ll agree to compensation for their claims on Ireta, and withdraw. That would be a peaceful solution, quite possible for such a small group, and with compensation they could gain the education they’d need to live well elsewhere. Even if they don’t give up all their claims, they might be more willing to live within the limits a tribunal is almost certain to impose… especially if Varian is right, and there’s a sentient native species.”
Currald said, “Do you want active recruitment? The ones I’ve seen would probably pass the interim tests.”
Sass nodded. “If you find some you want for the marine contingent, let me know. I’d approve a few, but we’d have to be sure we could contain them. I don’t believe any have been groomed as agents, but that’s a danger I can’t ignore.”
Mayerd frowned, tapping the lab reports on the table beside her tray. “These kids were brought up on natural foods, not to mention meat. Do you think they could adjust to shipboard diets right away?”
“I’m not sure, and that’s why I want you in on this from the beginning. We’re going to need to know everything about their physiology. They’re apparently heavyworlder-bred, but growing up on a normal-G planet hasn’t brought out the full adaptation. Major Currald may have some insights into the differences, or perhaps they’d be willing to talk to other heavyworlders more freely. But you’re the research expert on the medical staff: you figure out what you need to know and how to find out. Keep me informed on what you need.”
“I’ve always thought,” said Mayerd, with a sidelong glance at Currald, “that it’s possible heavyworlders do require a blend of nutrients delivered most efficiently in meat. Particularly those on cold worlds. But you can’t do research on that in the Federation - it’s simply unmentionable. Not fair, really. Scientific research shouldn’t be hampered by religious notions.”
A tiny smile had twitched Currald’s lips. “Research has been done, clandestinely of course, on two heavy-G worlds I know of. It’s not just flesh, doctor, but certain kinds, and yes, it’s the most efficient source of the special requirements we have. But I don’t think you want to hear this at table.”
“Another consideration,” said Sassinak into the silence that followed, “is that of crew solidarity. It will do the heavyworlder critics in our crew good to see what heavyworlder genes look like when not stressed by high-G: with all respect, Currald, the Iretans look like normals more than heavyworlders.” He nodded, sober but apparently not insulted. “But as you know, we’ve had trouble with a saboteur before. If anything happened now, to heighten tensions between heavyworlders and lightweights - “ She paused, and glanced at every face. They all nodded, clearly understanding the implications. “Arly, I know you’ve made every possible safety check of the weapons systems, but it’s going to be hard to keep your crews fully alert in the coming days. Yet you must: we must not have any accidental weapons discharges.”
“Speaking of that,” said Hollister. “I presume we’re screened…?” Sass pressed the controls and nodded. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell you, and since the crisis appeared to be over - “ He pulled a small gray box from his pocket and laid it on the table. “I found this in the number two power center just as we landed. Disabled it, of course, but I think it was intended to interfere with the tractor controls.”
Sass picked up the featureless box and turned it over in her hands. “Induction control?”
“Right. It could be used for all sorts of things, including setting off weapons - “
“Where, precisely, did you find it?”
“Next to a box of circuit breakers, where it looked like it might be part of that assembly - some boxes have another switchbox wired in next to them. Same shade of gray, same type of coating. But I’ve been looking every day for anything new, anything different - that’s how I spotted it. At first I wasn’t even sure, but when I touched it, it came off clean - no wires. Nela cracked it and read the chips for me; that’s how I know it was intended to mess up the tractor beam.”
“Dupaynil?” She looked down the table at him. His expression was neutral. “I’d wish to have seen it in place, yet clearly it had to be disabled in that situation, with the possibility of hostile fire. Did you consider physical traces?”
Hollister nodded. “Of course. I held it with gloves, and Nela dusted it, but we didn’t find any prints. Med or you, sir, might find other traces.”
“The point is,” said Sassinak, “that we’ve finally found physical evidence of our saboteur. Still aboard, since I’m sure Hollister can say that wasn’t in place yesterday, and still active.”
“If we find a suspect,” Dupaynil said, “we might look inside this for traces of the person who programmed it.”
“If we find a suspect,” said Sassinak. “And we’d better.” On that note, the meeting adjourned.
Chapter Seventeen
Sassinak had made extensive preparations for her meeting the next morning with Captain Cruss. Unless he had illegal Fleet-manufactured detectors, he could not know that a full audio-video hook up linked her office to Ford’s quarters and the bridge. Currald had furnished his most impressive heavyworld marines for an escort through the ship, although Sassinak had chosen Weft guards for her personal safety. She wanted to see if Cruss would overreach himself.
When Currald signalled that Cruss was on his way, she watched on the monitor. The five men and women that sauntered across the grid between ships were unpleasant-looking, even for heavyworlders. They had not bothered to put on clean uniforms, Sassinak noticed; even Cruss looked rumpled and smudged. She glanced briefly at her white upholstered chairs, and muttered a brief curse to rudeness… no doubt they would do their best to soil her things, and smirk to themselves about it. She knew too many fastidious heavyworlders to believe that they were innately dirty.
By the time they reached Main Deck, Sassinak had heard comments from observers she’d stationed along their path. They had argued about leaving their hand weapons with the guards; Captain Cruss carried a small, roughly globular object which he insisted he must hand-carry to Sassinak himself. She signalled an assent. They had made snide remarks to Currald and the heavyworlder escort, and pointedly turned away from the Wefts. They had lounged insolently on the grabbar in the cargo lift, and commented on the grooming of ship’s crew in terms that had the reporting ensign red-faced. And of course they were late… a studied discourtesy which Sassinak met with her own. When Gelory ushered them in with cool precision, Sassinak glanced up from a desk covered with datacards.