"Tuning, William - Terro-Human - Fuzzy 04 - Fuzzy Bones 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tuning William)

Chapter 5

While the passengers of the City of Asgard prepared for the last leg to Zarathustra-or Xerxes-it was early morning on Beta Continent and coffee-break time in Mallorysport.

Up Cold Creek Canyon from the Snake River, the K0 sun of Zarathustra slanted orangish light across the growing settlement which the latest maps called Holloway Station. A year ago the place had been a quiet one-man camp from which Jack Holloway prospected for sunstones and lived a peaceably solitary life.

There wasn't much stirring at this hour of the morning, but later on the place would be bustling with activity. Jack Holloway still lived here, but not in the privacy and seclusion he would have preferred. The place was now the administrative center for the Native Affairs Commission.

For the first several weeks, the Commission had been operated out of Holloway's own bungalow from a jumble of cardboard-boxes-turned-filing-cabinets, extra tables, and steno equipment scattered around the living room-and confusion. Now it took up a half-dozen big prefab huts and was straining at the seams of those.

The headquarters and barracks for the Zarathustran Native Protection Force was across the creek. It was home base for the police force which protected the Fuzzies and maintained surveillance of their territory against Terran intrusion. That alone accounted for over two hundred men, if you counted the Marines loaned to the ZNPF by Commodore Napier.

Besides that cluster of buildings there was the bungalow where Gerd and Ruth van Riebeek lived and the big laboratory and infirmary where they conducted studies of Fuzzy biology and psychology, a Reception Center, a Fuzzy School for learning Lingua Terra, and other such structures as might be of use or interest to a Fuzzy.

This conglomeration, the scientific corner of Holloway Station, was referred to informally as Fuzzy Institute.

Add to all this the constant comings and goings by officials of the new Colonial Government, people from the Company headquarters in Mallorysport, Constabulary officers, the Adoptions Bureau that had been set up for Fuzzies who wanted to live with human people and love them, and everyone else who had business involving Fuzzies-to say nothing of a couple hundred curious and playful Fuzzies- and Holloway Station was the kind of place that might need traffic cops before long.

Major George Lunt was puzzled.

That's why he was in his office so early this particular morning. When George Lunt was puzzled about something, he had to turn his detective's mind loose on it one bite at a time, and he couldn't do that with a dozen people pestering him about two dozen things at once.

He hoped he would have a handle on it by the time the day watch started coming in to go on duty at 0800. After that mere would be the whole tedious business of inspecting the watch in ranks and sitting in on the watch briefing; not that he needed to-the watch commander was perfectly competent-but as Commandant of me ZNPF he was sort of expected to do it on occasion. It was good for morale.

George reached out with his left hand and blanked the shade on his window, then pulled out a section of printout from the stack of survey logs in front of him and bent down his head to study the rash of squiggly lines which the computer had superimposed on the strip map of a section of northern Beta Continent, the Fuzzy Reservation.

There it is, again, he thought . . . plain as can be.

He slewed the stacks of paper around and matched up the registry marks on two parallel strips of geography. That's nuts, he said to himself. If all the various kinds of titanium compounds on Zarathustra were put together in one spot, it still wouldn't cause these readings-! think.

George leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Two possibilities seemed to him equally likely to account for the odd data recorded in the survey printout of north Beta: malfunction of the scanner or recorder, or sloppy procedure on the part of Paine's Marines. George thought it would be better all around if he could kiss off Paine's Marines. George Lunt was uneasy about commanding men over whom he did not have direct control. He hadn't been a major long enough to have a clear handle on delegating duty and staff work to others.

The third alternative was too preposterous-that there really was a big concentration of titanium compounds on north Beta. Why, you could practically take all the titanium in the entire crust of Zarathustra and put it in your hip pocket. And here this damned readout was telling him there was a big slug of it up there, in several different forms.

Well, he'd ask Jack Holloway about it. Jack knew a good deal about geology-had to to be a successful sunstone prospector. Gerd van Riebeek could tell him more, too. Gerd was a zoologist-used to work for the Chartered Zarathustra Company-so he knew a lot about paleontology from working with fossils and rock layers.

George Lunt yawned and stretched. While his arms were extended, he snapped open the shade on his office window once more, then pushed back the chair and got to his feet.

Chapter 6

Major Lunt wasn't the only person, at that hour, to be slaving over puzzling entries on hard-copy printouts and trying to interpret their meaning and importance.

Three time-zones to the east, in Mallorysport, it was mid-morning. Hugo Ingermann-attorney-at-law-sat alone in his office, absently massaging his smooth, round, pink cheeks, and studied the printout pages before him on the large desk. The commercial manifests-cargo and passenger-of the City of Asgard had been broadcast to the port on Darius and the capital at Mallorysport as soon as the ship dropped into normal space. Cargo and passengers were known to those who planned to receive them-persons who expected goods or passengers, the customs inspectors, brokers for commercial shipments, lading and freight contractors, and other interested parties. Preparations could then be speedily made to receive that which occupied the decks and holds of the vessel before it actually docked.

Very efficient.

Hugo Ingermann was in the category of "other interested parties." As the moving and guiding force behind all activities illegal or even slightly shady in Mallorysport, Ingermann was interested in everything and everybody that might be on an incoming hypership from Terra.

This was not to say that Hugo Ingermann would turn honest business from his door. During the seven years or so that he had maintained his busy law practice in Mallorysport he had represented at least eight clients who were completely honest and respectable persons. He owned some land north of the capital city. And he was a partner in several perfectly legal businesses-to say nothing of being a major shareholder in a dozen more.