Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

"Or," Helton said, "the survivors of the wreck may have been long-since picked up when the Fuzzies found it, and all this gear was left behind. The Fuzzies who died inside the wreck could have wandered in there and been killed by radiation leakage."

"Too easy," Jack said. "If there was all that much radiation leakage, it would have contaminated the whole area, and Fuzzies would have abandoned the place-not dragged all this electronic gear into the cave."

"Maybe they did," Helton said, "then came back later-much later. It 's all too much for me. I 'm going to have this stuff impounded and taken to Xerxes where it can be gone over properly."

Jack's mustache twitched. "Just a minute!" he said gruffly. "This stuff is on a legally established Fuzzy Reservation! It's their property, and, as Commissioner of Native Affairs, I intend to see they have some say-so about what's done with it."

Helton smiled. "Eventually, I suppose you will. In the meantime, I'm impounding it under Priority One. All perfectly legal. You'll get a copy of the inventory, and Governor Rainsford will co-sign the order for its removal from the planetary surface. There are records and scientific apparatus here, not built by Terrans, and obviously never intended for use by Terrans. Under Federation Law, the Navy has the first priority for the examination of-let's see, the code states it . . .Oh, yes. 'Artifacts of unknown or unestablished origin.' "

Holloway was silent for a moment, trying to think of a loophole in Priority One. He couldn 't think of any. If anyone could, he should be the man. He'd been skating on the edge of the law on more planets than he could remember.

"Dammit," he said, "you are within the law."

"I guess Napier had a hunch about that when he put me in charge of the dig,"

Helton said. "I will guarantee you one thing, though."

"Which is?" Holloway said.

"Tight security," Helton said. "I'll have the battalion surgeon put those six guys in quarantine. They, and only they will pack this stuff up for transfer to Xerxes, and I'll have the chief psychologist there put them on ice. I'11

also have Byers' boys drive a hatchway in the tunnel, keyed to yours and my thumbprints only."

"And blast shut the tunnel that Ingermann's stooges came through," Holloway said.

Helton nodded.

"And what about the bodies?" Holloway asked.

"Ill have the same six that blasted in here with me pack those up according to Dr. van Riebeek's specifications and cart them outside, where they will be turned over to him for further research and comparison." Helton waited for Jack's reply.

"Sounds airtight to me," Jack said.

Helton grinned. "No such thing as totally airtight security, -Jack, because it's handled by people. All the works of man are flawed by human nature in some way."

"Well," Holloway said with a chuckle, "I'll settle for what you've outlined.

You're right-as usual. Xerxes is the only place around that has any chance of deciphering what's here."

"Thank you," Helton said.

"Besides," Holloway continued, "we're going to have quite enough to do to keep the news of 'something big' out here from being all over the planet by sundown. I don't relish the size of the task."

"Do you want to be in here when I make the inventory?"

Helton asked.

Holloway shrugged. "Not necessarily. I trust you." "Well, you could help out,"

Helton said. "It'll go a lot faster if you measure and I write than if I do it all myself."

While Helton was expressing his displeasure to Chief Byers over the fact that a two-meter security hatchway could not be freighted from Xerxes and installed in the tunnel before morning, Colonial Governor Ben Rainsford and Attorney General Gus Brannhard were unraveling puzzles in Mallory sport.

"Now, what in Nifflheim did Ingermann hope to accomplish by sending his tame lawyer into court with a case like that?" Rainsford demanded."Surely he knew Pendarvis wouldn't admit it on the issues framed in the complaint."

Gus Brannhard sloshed the whiskey in his glass. "Of course he did. He just wanted to tie things up for a while. If Pendarvis had scheduled the case for a preliminary hearing, that would have given the plaintiff certain 'Rights of Discovery,' the authority to subpoena records, take depositions, that sort of thing."

"Federated Sunstone Co-operative, indeed!" Rainsford jerked his pipe out of his pocket and began to tamp tobacco into the bowl. "Isn't a real prospector in the whole shebang!"

"The best he could have hoped for might be an injunction against the CZC and the colonial government entering into or pursuing any kind of joint ventures or leasing agreements." Brannhard rumbled, like a volcano preparing to erupt.

He was chuckling. "Then, young Throckmorton had to 'beef up' the case by trying to sue the government for conspiracy. I bet Ingermann roasted him alive over that one."

"In the meantime," Rainsford grumped, "the press is roasting me alive-especially the news analysts. I could throttle that young squirt at ZNS.

Do you know he infiltrated my own staff? My own staff, by Ghu! They didn't have any useful information for him, though. They don't know any more about what's really going on over on North Beta than I do, which is precisely zero."

Brannhard chuckled, again. "Why, Ben, all you have to do is take a run over there and ask Jack. He 'd tell you what's going on. I'm sure he would."

"Well, isn't that just fine!" Rainsford exploded. "Take a run over to North

Beta, the man says!" Rainsford took his pipe out of his mouth and ticked off his points on the fingers of his other hand. ' "The Constitutional Convention is coming to a fast boil. There are crazy rumors all over town. I 've been going on screen every night to try and pacify people. "There, there-nothing to worry about, folks; just digging up a little old spaceship wreck over there.

Everything's gonna be just fine.' For every yard of wool I get knit together, Ingermann and his gang come along behind me and unravel it before I can get home to watch myself on the screen. People are going nuts in the streets.

Junktown is like a combat zone: the only thing that's holding it together is that priest fella down there with his soup kitchen. That reminds me, I want to talk to him." Rainsford made a quick note into his stenomemophone. "Haven't had a good night's sleep in Ghu knows how long. And you want me to drop everything and take a little junket over to North Beta. Don't you go losing your marbles on me, too, Gus. Do you have any idea how foolish a man feels, standing up there shooting his mouth off just like he knew what he was talking about?"

Brannhard shrugged and refurbished his drink. "It was only a suggestion, Ben."

"Sure," Rainsford said. "Easy for you to say. I 'm the one that has to stand in front of that pickup and try to sound like I know what's what, when I have no idea how it's going to come out. You try that, some time and see how ridiculous it makes you feel."

"I do," Brannhard said quietly.

"When?" Rainsford demanded.

"Every time I take a case to trial," Brannhard replied.

"Hmmmph!" Rainsford grunted as he re-lighted his pipe. "And the CZC,"

Rainsford said, jabbing the air with his pipestem. "That's another thing.

They're about as much help as a zebralope in heat, lately."

Brannhard looked genuinely alarmed for the first time in the conversation.

"They're not holding back on the support Grego promised the government, are they?"

"No, no; nothing like that," Rainsford said. "Victor just doesn 't seem to have his mind on what he's doing some of the time. It's that Fuzzy-sitter of his; that's what it is."

"Christiana Stone?" Brannhard asked.

"That's the one," Rainsford said. He leaned forward in his chair. "Do you know," he whispered, "I was over there the other evening, and I saw them holding hands in the kitchen."