"To heck with that. We're not only husband and wife, we're comrades in war. Besides, we're eight or ten rods from the orderly room, and it's darker than the inside of a black bull." Then he turned and began to dig. When they'd finished, the CQ still hadn't reappeared, so Esau climbed out and went to the orderly room to get him. The man lay his book aside. "That was quick," he said. "You sure you're done?"
"I'm sure I am," Esau answered. "I can't speak for anyone else."
The CQ donned his poncho and they went out to Esau's pit. Esau jumped in. Nearby, Jael's continued to emit shovelfuls of dirt and slop. Taking Esau's measuring stick, the Terran measured height, width, and depth.
"Looks good," he said. "You're done." Then bypassing the ladder, the corporal squatted, reached down a hand, and hauled him out. Esau was impressed. Stronger than I thought, he told himself.
They headed for Jael's pit. "Quit throwing a minute," the CQ called. "It may be deep enough." He measured. "Good job both of you. Fill them and tramp them, and you're done. Tramp them every foot or so the whole way. I'll know if you don't, and you don't want to do the whole thing over again tomorrow night."
She came up on her ladder, to see the corporal striding off toward the orderly room. Filling the pits was far easier than digging them had been, and they worked hard and fast. When both pits were full and well tramped, the rain-sodden couple went to the orderly room together.
"All done," Esau announced.
The corporal donned his poncho again, went out with them to inspect the sites, then dismissed them to their hut.
On their way, Esau spoke. "You know," he said innocently, "we've already lost half our sleep time. We might as well lose another half hour, and go shower off."
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him thoroughly. "That's a wonderful idea," she said.
In their hut, they hung their wet things on the drying rack-the clothes from the pond were already dry-put their cold wet ponchos on their bare bodies, and ran to the latrine. After a shower, a hot one, they turned the water off and made joyous love on the duck boards before scurrying back to the hut for three hours of sleep.
Chapter 21
Contract
Dr. Deborah Coonoor arrived at Bangui International Aerospaceport with zero fanfare, her visit and its possible importance publically unknown. Her welcoming committee consisted of one very tall person, Dr. Issa Libengi, who stood in the air-conditioned reception area holding a sign with her name on it. His grin was an expanse of white in a truly black face.
Weaving her way through the crowd, Dr. Coonoor herself was dark enough not to be conspicuous: a glowing mahogany. Her raven-black hair, however, was simply wavy. Her father was from Mysore State, in the south of India; her caramel-colored mother was "black English": Celto-Saxon/Caribbean/Brazilian.
When she reached Dr. Libengi, she extended a slender hand, which he carefully wrapped in his much larger one. "Ms. Coonoor, I presume," he rumbled. "I hope your flight was agreeable."
She laughed. "It was. Although I confess to being mystified by lunch. I'm unfamiliar with African cuisines."
He took her bag; emergency items in case of delay. She expected to be on her way back to Kunming before evening. Away from the gate area, they followed the flow toward the rotunda. "I was impressed by the flight," she said. "I'd never seen Central Africa before. Even from five thousand feet, your rainforest looks impressive. I grew up in Brazil you know."
"Seen from within the forest, it is even more remarkable. An invertebrate zoologist like yourself would find your interest quite stimulated, as mine was by your call-more by what you didn't say than by what you did."
Her eyes met his, and she laughed. "Perhaps we can discuss it in your car. Depending on your driver."
"You can trust his prudence absolutely. I drive myself."
Actually, she'd assumed that. Universities which originated as agricultural colleges were seldom pretentious, even after centuries of distinction. From the rotunda, they took a trackway to the four-story parking tower, then a lift tube to the third level, and walked to the coupe floater he'd driven, with the Bangui University logo on its door. Libengi held her door for her, a provincialism she found attractive. Then he stepped around to the other side, got in, and let the cybervalet move them to the floater exit, from which Libengi gently launched the vehicle into the midday air.
"So," he said, "what possible interest can Kunming have in a geneticist specializing in Central African species of Apoidea?"
She detected neither diffidence nor false modesty in the question. He simply wanted to know. "Because that is precisely what we need," she said, "a geneticist specializing in Central African species of Apoidea." She laughed without humor. "Particularly one who knows more about the genome of Apis mellifera scutella than anyone else. Which narrows it down to you."
Four hours later, Issa Libengi returned his guest to the aerospaceport. By then he knew Kunming's proposal in detail. The confidentiality was not from any fear that the enemy might have spies on Terra. Rather, it was to avoid stirring up the Peace Front, which would be upset by it.
Like a swarm of Apis mellifera var. scutella stirred with a stick, Libengi told himself, savoring the metaphor. The project was abundantly challenging, which was why he was so pleased with it. And the potential professional and public recognition were pleasant to contemplate. Even allowing for the multi-project nature of the program, its success could eventually mean prestige, salary increases, grants… And meanwhile, ah the challenges! Dr. Coonoor was well aware of them; her professional bona fides were substantial. "Take it as far as you can," she'd answered. "Interaction among projects should help."
What she hadn't said, and in fact didn't know, was that this was a contingency backup project. The equally vital other half of the program was quite uncertain.
Chapter 22
Close Encounter
The debris zone outside Henry Morgan's bolt hole changed from one trip to the next, and the change had become conspicuous. Shoots had sprouted from the base of many broken tree stubs, and were growing vigorously. Some were already more than ten feet talclass="underline" the place was beginning to heal. Wait till the real rains arrive, Morgan thought. I'll need a machete.
Actually he was carrying one on this trip, but not for clearing trail.
He'd been coming topside every week, spending a day hiking out and another back, and from one to three days spying. Among other things, he'd seen and reported several-foals? cubs? Small playful Wyzhnyny juveniles, accompanying and occasionally nursing on adults at work in the clearing.
The previous time up, it had occurred to him that the stream flowing through the clearing was much too small to provide water for the invaders on the site. So he'd hiked to the bluff northwest of the clearing, and out onto a point he knew. From there his binoculars verified his suspicion: the invaders had installed what had to be a desalinization plant above the beach. Not large, but presumably adequate, no doubt powered by a geogravitic power converter.
May it be visited by a tsunami, he thought.
But it seemed to him his observations were trivial, except for the hornets. From that had grown two specific hopes: that it would (1) contribute a weapon, and (2) result in rescue. Robert and Connie would surely not be charged with piracy, while he himself… It seemed to him a pardon might be in order.
Terra had been in no hurry to reply to his offer. Then, at his last contact, had come the hoped-for word: "Captain Morgan, we agree on the potential of your proposal. Please capture a number of the hornets of which you spoke. Capture some from several separate nests, and if there is more than one species, some of each. Store them alive in stasis, if any of your stasis equipment has survived. Otherwise frozen, or failing that, dried thoroughly at low heat."