Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

"Suits me," Jack agreed, "even though I haven't spent a hand of nights at home since this thing in Fuzzy Valley started. Not that it would make much difference, anyway; we'd have to start out well before dawn if we left in the morning."

"When do you want to jump off, then?" Gerd asked.

"Any time you want," Jack said. "I can't even begin to put a dent in the work that's piled up here-not today, at least. I'm at your disposal, Dr.

Fuzzyologist."

Gerd mused. "Let's see. I can get things cleaned up here and lay out enough work for a week or so by, say, 1630. We could be in the air by 1730."

"That would put us at the camp before 2300," Jack said. "Sounds okay to me."

"I'll have Ruth pack a lunch," Gerd suggested. "We won't want to take time to sit down to dinner."

"If you like," Jack said. "No need, really, though. I know the Headquarters Company Mess Sergeant. We could have a hot snack of some kind when we get in."

"Hmmmm," Gerd said. "Beltran is a treasure that way. We should take along some tosh-ki waji, in that case. But, will he be up that late?"

Jack laughed. "As far as I can tell, he never sleeps."

"I'll see you, then, after I break away here," Gerd said.

"Fine," Jack repli ed. "I'll get all packed up and meet you at your bungalow at 1630."

"1630 it is," Gerd said, and blanked the screen.

"No, I can't wait for him," Ben Rainsford said to his communication screen.

"I'm leaving here not later than 1630."

O'Bannon rubbed the first two fingers of his right hand across his forehead.

"I must have your signature on these authorizations. Will you be in quarters after you leave your office?"

"No," Rainsford replied, rather testily, "I will not. I'm going straight to Justice Pendarvis' home for a very crucial reception-something essentially political, rather than social. If your man misses me here, have him bring the stuff over there. I'd like to have the Judge look it over, anyway. My secretary will give you the address. Anything else, Colonel?"

"No," O'Bannon replied. "That will be fine, sir. Thank you very much, Governor."

"No trouble at all," Rainsford said, as he pressed the key that would bring the receptionist back on the channel. "Glad to be of help."

After Miss Werner took over the call and blanked Rainsford's pickup, he chuffed furiously on his pipe for a moment. "Confound the Navy," he said to his empty office. "Confound everybody," he said to the stack of papers on his desk. "And especially confound everybody who makes these damned scientific discoveries when I'm stuck here trying to hold the government together with spit and glue. Only the greatest set of artifacts discovered this century-maybe any century-and I'm not out there in the thick of it where I belong. Damn it all to Nifflheim, anyway!"

Gwen dropped two full lines of lyrics from "Senchant Star" when she saw Diehl and Spelvin come into the smoky main room of The Bitter End. The musicians bridged it over nicely, and no one else noticed. The Friday night after-work crowd was already starting to build up. It would drop off a bit as the office workers and tradespeople drifted away to home or dinner, but by 2100 or so the joint would be packed and people would be standing three-deep around the tables in the casino room.

She discreetly returned Jim Spelvin's wave in her direction as he and Everett Diehl hurried toward the bar across the back of the main room. Ghu! Why doesn

't he get hold of himself? He could amount to something if he'd quit making a life's work out of being a Marine bum. They're all alike. Damned Marines!

Healthy and dumb. Always dead broke by the end of payday liberty.

She watched-only half paying attention to the rest of the song-as the two of them elbowed through the crowd at the bar, then said something to the bartender. Soon there was a whispered conversation with Raul Laporte, who had abruptly come from the gambling room, then all three of them headed toward Laporte's office.. Now, that was strange. Laporte did not often invite anyone into his office-certainly not a couple of Marines whose main worthiness involved being in debt to him.

O'Bannon rubbed the first two fingers of his right hand across his forehead as he flipped open the folio and began going over the paperwork inside.

Inventory and certification; in order. He thumbed the page back. Receipt for his copy of inventory, signed by Commissioner Holloway; in order. Form DRO-10

for removal of "artifacts of unknown or unestablished origin" from the planetary surface, signed by Commissioner Holloway, and with signature blocks for Governor Rainsford and himself.

O'Bannon smiled as he signed the copies in the space provided for himself.

Below his space-as Officer-In-Charge-was another for NCO-In-Charge. It bore the name and signature of Philip Helton, Master Gunnery Sergeant of Fleet Marines. "Sergeant-Major Miller will be glad to hear that," he said to himself. He initialed the attachments of authentication, which cited the Federation Constitution and TFN Regulations governing such matters under Priority One.

He moved his attention to the papers in the left wing of the folio-those of a purely military nature. Travel authorization, with names of involved vessels, roster of personnel, travel itinerary-all in order. He signed in the appropriate places, then looked up at Helton. "NCOIC, you say?" he said.

Helton shrugged. "Only of the dig. That's specified on the DRO-10. Besides, I out-rank Miller."

"I know you do," O'Bannon said. "I talked to Governor Rainsford while you were bringing this stuff over. If you should miss him at his office-he's leaving there early- you'll be able to get him at Judge Pendarvis' home." He handed Helton a slip with the information. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"It's right there on the itinerary, Colonel," Helton said.

O'Bannon gave him a dead pan look. "Officers have an itinerary," he said flatly. "You have a schedule."

"I see your point," Helton said.

"Hmmmmm," O'Bannon replied.

Helton turned to leave.

"Phil," O'Bannon said quickly.

Helton turned back toward him, hitching the folio under his left arm. He expected mild disapproval of his not departing formally, but wasn't in the mood for it, "Yes, sir?"

"I'll stay up until Holloway and his party get here-make sure they're settled-that sort of thing. No reason for you to bother with that. You'll be tired after the trip, I imagine." O'Bannon spoke slowly, as though choosing his words.

"That will be fine, sir," Helton said. "Anything else?"

"Yes," O'Bannon said. "Take my command car. Bushmeyer will be quite rested, as usual. And, I want you to take a couple of men with you for security. I don't like the noises I've been hearing from Mallorysport lately. There's trouble brewing up over there. I can smell it-even from here."

"You mean more civil disorder?" Helton asked.

"Something like that," O'Bannon said. "If it goes to Martial Law again, I hope they send in the Second Battalion this time; they haven't been kissed yet."

Helton nodded.

"Watch yourself, Phil," O'Bannon said. "And let me know when you're back-even if I've gone to bed."

Chapter 36

"Do you think you can persuade Starwatcher to come to Xerxes with us?"

Holloway asked.

Little Fuzzy threw out his chest and pointed at it with his own thumb. "Sure, Pappy Jack," he said. "Easy make do. Me Numba'-One Fuzzy."

Orangish light from the afternoon sun shifted in patterns through the interior

of the airboat as Gerd brought it up to altitude and set his course for Fuzzy Valley.

"What do you think, Little Fuzzy?" Ruth asked. "Do you have any ideas about the ship and the dead Fuzzies we found in it and in the cave?"

Little Fuzzy shrugged. "Me no know," he said. "Star-watcher say his people have story that Fuzzies come from someplace else-someday go back that place.