"Besides, it'll provide jobs for the Terrans of Sungecho, which is a pretty seedy outpost of humanity. If you say we've got to put up a front for the Kooks so they'll respect us, they'd say: 'But look at Sungecho, with its gangs and crime!' "
Salazar asked: "Alexis, how will that affect your cu— the followers of your philosophy?"
She shrugged. "We'll adapt. We are one with nature now, but nature is always changing. The geologists say that millions of years ago there was no Sunga; it was all built up by the volcanoes. Then it was once connected with the mainland, until the sea level rose."
Hilbert Ritter said: "The Patelians may have something to say about your project. We're not without influence."
Cantemir smiled through his curly blond beard. "Go right ahead! Then we'll see who comes out on top. I know you are all red-hot environmentalists. If Terrans had felt that way a couple of million years ago, we'd still all be running naked through the woods and turning over flat stones for our dinners—a state of culture that, I take it, your daughter wants to go back to.
"Understand, I sympathize with your feelings, but business is business. And there are plenty of other places where you can watch zutas flitting about or kusis sitting on a branch and scratching. Don't take it personally. Just because we disagree don't mean we can't be friendly. Here comes my dinner, so excuse me!"
As Cantemir returned to his solitary table, Salazar leaned forward and said softly: "This looks like an ecological disaster for me as well as for Mount Sungara. If they start cutting the nanshins, the kusis will beat it to another woodland, just to survive. Those lumberjacks will be the kind whose idea of fun on an off day is to take a gun out and shoot something, no matter what. In any case, they'll bollix up my thesis."
"I agree," said Suzette. She looked after Cantemir, now seated and shoveling away. "That man must have a hide as thick as a tseturen's." The tseturen was a huge, massive, four-homed quadruped of the mainland.
"That's how he got to be a successful corporate exec," said Hilbert Ritter.
"Dreadful," said Suzette. "What can Skanda Patel do for his society?"
Hilbert Ritter shrugged. "He's as full of lofty ideals as an eggshell is of egg, but he's more talk than action."
Alexis asked: "Is he the man the society is named for?"
"Yes," said Ritter. "He's a modest fellow who didn't want the name, but the members insisted because he's the founder. He's never mobilized the members for political action. In fact, he looks down on politics and politicians, which didn't do the museum any good when he was director."
"I know Skanda," said Salazar. "He was my father's boss at the University of Henderson Museum until he retired. His wife is a holy terror, but she built up his money until he didn't have to work for a living. Now he just does an occasional dig when he feels like it. Do you know any useful politicians, Doctor Ritter?"
Both older Ritters answered at once, since both bore the title. Hilbert Ritter said: "Maybe I could pull a wire with Basil Aliprandos ..."
Suzette said: "I know the wife of Representative de Sola pretty well ..."
Dinner arrived. During a pause Salazar said: "You should help, Alexis. Set your naturists to raiding the lumber camp and sabotaging their machines."
Alexis smiled grimly. "You don't know what you're asking. Can you imagine fifty-odd naked, unarmed followers attacking a camp full of tough lumberjacks in hobnailed boots, armed with axes and probably guns as well? Besides, Cantemir will probably hire Kook guards."
"You don't wear clothes there?"
"Only when weather demands. The climate's mild, and this is the hot season."
"And unarmed, you say? What do you do if a fyunga or a pack of poöshos attacks?"
"We have a couple of heavy rifles, but so far it's been enough to keep a fire burning."
"Look, Kirk," said Ritter. "Your father's director of the museum, and he's as hot a conservationist as we are. He also wields a big stick politically. Why don't you get him to work on the legislature about this."
"I'm thinking," said Salazar. "It's not really his kind of dispute; he'd rather argue the order of kings of the ancient Nomuruvian Empire. But I'll write him."
"Couldn't you call him on your poignet?"
Salazar shook his head. "We're out of range of Henderson. I shall have to write, and it'll take several days for a letter to reach him by ship and rail."
Ritter leaned forward. "Kirk! The Ijumo sails at midnight. If you can get a letter aboard, it might make all the difference."
Salazar sighed. "Okay, I'll do it."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Several other Patelians entered the restaurant during this conversation. When not greeting fellow zuta watchers with smiles and waves, the quartet discussed ideas for ditching the Adriana Company's project. They rejected many plans and by the end of dinner had not yet found a hopeful one.
Back at Levontin's, Alexis excused herself for a brief, whispered conversation with the innkeeper. Salazar heard Levontin say, spreading his hands in an expression of impotence: "Absolutely not, Miss Ritter! If there had been a message, I should have known it! My people are well trained!"
Salazar bade the senior Ritters good night and walked Alexis to her room. The girl was frowning and muttering expletives under her breath. She opened the door and turned to face him, looking him up and down as if he were a prize piece of livestock. Then she broke into a sunny smile. Without further ado, she slid her arms around his neck for a long, moist kiss. Salazar was so startled that he almost failed to respond, but he quickly pulled himself together. She said:
"How about coming in for a while, Kirk? We ought to get to know each other better."
Salazar's blood pounded in his ears. His own experience with women had been negligible. He had driven himself so hard in his studies as to leave little time for even the most innocent dalliance. He pushed himself because of a burning desire to equal or surpass his father, whom he vastly admired for his signal achievements and fair renown among the Terrans of Kukulcan. Keith Salazar was planet-famed for the discovery of the buried library of the ancient Kookish king, Bembogu of Nomuru.
If Keith Adams Salazar had become the planet's foremost archaeologist, Kirk Sheffield Salazar was determined to become the foremost biologist or perish trying. The older Salazar encouraged and supported his son's progress.
And now, unless all indications were wrong, Alexis was offering the utmost in female hospitality. The thought made him pant with anticipation, tempered by fear that he might not measure up. The nasty little thought also crept in that he was substituting for a truant lover of Alexis. Hesitantly he said:
"Look, I've got to write that letter to my father."
"Can't that wait?"
"I might miss the Ijumo's sailing. I'll come back for a proper good night."
"Oh, all right, if you must," she said.
Back in his room Salazar dictated his letter into a small wire recorder, extracted the spool, put it in a pouch, addressed it in English and Feënzuo, and applied a United Settlements stamp to the pouch.
Kukulcanian postal service was still chaotic. He would have to pay the postal clerk on the Ijumo, hope that this person would put the letter aboard the right train at Oõi, and hope that the conductor would put it on the right connecting train at Machura to Henderson. When it reached the museum, assuming that it did, the elder Salazar would have to pay a whopping bill of postage due, owed to each of the carriers through whose hands the missive had passed. The wonder was that any letter reached its destination.
Salazar walked swiftly to the pier, where the Ijumo was getting up steam. He paid the postal clerk and was on his way back to Levontin's when lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain came down in bucketfuls. He reached the inn soaked.