Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

Many things yet for Little Fuzzy to learn."

Jack nodded. "Many-many things for Hagga to leam," he said. "The Fuzzy remains in the ship aren't woods Fuzzies and they aren't Upland Fuzzies. Do these new Fuzzies have anything to do with the remains we found, or do they just occupy the same geography? What does the Fuzzyologist say, Gerd?"

Gerd grimaced. "Damned questions. Every time we find the answer to one question, it brings up two more questions. We're getting nowhere at hyperspeed-even though we know an enormously larger amount of information about Fuzzies than we did a year ago."

"We know that the decomposing titanium ship hull caused the soil in Fuzzy Valley to become richer in several different kinds of titanium compounds,"

Ruth said. "Oxides and nitrates of titanium, sodium tritanate, titanic acids-that sort of thing-not to mention other nitrate compounds from rainwater leaching down into the valley. That's why the Fuzzies cultivated plants there-until the drought dried up the vegetable patch. The plants picked up titanium from the soil."

Jack thoughtfully packed tobacco into his pipe. Little Fuzzy promptly dug into hisshodda-bag and began doing the same. "Then why," Jack said, "when the woods Fuzzies began their southward volkerwanderung, following the land-prawns, did the Upland Fuzzies stay? They knew it was going to be a hard life."

Gerd shrugged. "Maybe they thought the rain would come back and things would pick up again. After all, they had no way of knowing that the Company's draining Big Blackwater was causing a permanent climate change."

Jack held his index finger in the air. "Let us," he said, "ask a definitive eyewitness source. How about it, Little Fuzzy? Why did one group stay and the other group migrate?"

Little Fuzzy delayed his answer until he had finished lighting his pipe. He blew out a plume of smoke. "They- what you call Up'end Fuzzies are the Haigunsha. We, you so-say woods Fuzzies, are Kampushi-sha. We, both us, Gashta. No fight; not good. Make friend, make help, have fun." He screwed up his tiny face for a moment, forming the words for the concept. "We just-not same-even though same-Gashta." He shrugged. "We go-they stay."

"Does anyone know about that, Little Fuzzy?" Gerd asked.

"No," Little Fuzzy said simply. "Too much time ago. Many-many."

"Maybe the Fuzzies came on the ship," Jack said. "Somebody came on the ship.

Maybe they brought the Fuzzies with them."

"So what happened to them?" Ruth asked. "Dead? Rescued? What was their relationship to the Fuzzies?"

"Damned questions," Gerd muttered.

"Two tribes of Fuzzies," Ruth said, half to herself.

"What is t'ibeT' Little Fuzzy asked quickly.

While Ruth explained it to him, Jack moved up into the control seat next to Gerd's. "You know," he said. "We ought to push a little bit-not too hard-to borrow that sociologist-what 's-her-name-Liana Bell. She could have a field day with this, and just might come up with some answers that will help us out."

"Well," Gerd mused, "let's wait until we see what Napier can come up with. In any case, we'll be gone about a week, and we can't do much about it until we get back."

"That reminds me, Gerd," Jack said, "is it okay with you if I borrow your airboat and go back down to the Station while you and Ruth and Little Fuzzy are gone?"

Gerd looked at him. "Aren't you going along?"

Jack waved his pipe noncommitally. "Oh, I'm not going to be much use up there, and I 've got to catch up on the work that's piled up for me. Besides, I think I can depend on you and Ruth to look out for Fuzzy interests. There's really nothing we can get crabby about, anyway, what with Napier invoking Priority One."

"Sure," Gerd said. "That's all right with me. We'll keep you posted by screen-at least as much as the Navy allows us to."

"You know, Gerd," Jack pondered. "I've sort of been rolling a little theory around in my head. Tell me what you think of it."

"Go on," Gerd said.

"If someone crashed that ship here-and someone certainly did-they could have had Fuzzies on the ship with them. They were on their way from somewhere to somewhere and just had some problems-like the time I borrowed your airboat to go up the Cordilleras, lost power, and had to set her down in the woods."

"And damned near got killed by those two woods tramps," Gerd said.

"Yeah," Jack said, running his hand over the scar on the right side of his ribs."They could have died off, but there is a disturbing lack of remains. Or, they were rescued. If they were rescued, that disturbing lack of remains would indicate one hundred percent survival."

"Which is not statistically persuasive," Gerd said.

"No," Jack replied, "but it's possible. It would also indicate a speedy rescue. So, they were rescued and left some of the Fuzzies behind." Jack held up his hand. "I know what you're going to say. That's not a practice in keeping with logical procedure and ethics of a star-traveling race. But, suppose this. Suppose some of the Fuzzies ran off into the woods, couldn't be found by the rescuers, and were abandoned out of necessity. That would form the original group of ancestors fortheZarathustran Fuzzy. Cut off from the parent gene pool, there would be some random genetic drifts that developed them into an essentially different species. That would account for the difference in stature between the Fuzzy bones in the wreck and the Fuzzy bones in the cave."

"The ones in the cave, too?" Gerd said.

Jack nodded.

Gerd shook his head. "The ones in the cave are three hundred years newer than the ones in the wreck."

Jack snorted. "Well, they wouldn't change much in that length of time."

"Yeah," Gerd said gloomily. "I have to admit that."

"It might go a long way to explain why Fuzzies need titanium when they couldn't have evolved the need for it," Jack said. "What do you think?"

Gerd nodded. "It's worth pursuing. I'll give you that. Damn Garrett's Theorem, anyway," he growled. "I don't know why xeno-naturalists can't draw an easy problem once in a while."

Jack leaned back in the chair and puffed his pipe. "That, Dr. van Riebeek, is one of the reasons I never had the desire to take up science as a trade."

"Profession," Gerd corrected.

While Gerd van Riebeek's airboat was still in the air, a Marine command car grounded on the landing stage at the level just below the residential suite occupied by Justice and Mrs. Frederic Pendarvis.

Helton spoke to the two men with him. "Karnowski, you and Ash hop out and make a show of guarding this thing as soon as I clear myself with that local cop over there." He leaned forward and tapped Bushmeyer on the shoulder. "And you stay awake, son. I don't want you lifting off into the overhead. Makes paperwork."

In answer to the door chime, and in the temporary absence of the butler he had furnished for the occasion, the caterer opened the door. He was a bit startled to see a Marine outside in the corridor.

"I have paperwork for Governor Rainsford to sign and thumbprint. I understand he is here," Helton said.

Jerry Panoyian smiled deferentially. "You are correct," he said. "If you will be good enough to step into the foyer and wait a moment, I will tell him you are here, Sergeant."

As Panoyian turned to go, Helton put a hand on his shoulder. Panoyian turned, slightly surprised. No one ever touched him except to shake hands.

"Just a minute," Helton said. "Who's that over there- with the good-looking girl and the Fuzzy wearing a bow tie?"

Panoyian's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Why, that's Mr. Victor Grego, the Manager-in-Chief of the Chartered Zarathustra Company," he said with a slight look of disdain. '. "Oh," Helton said. "Thanks. Thank you very much."

Jerry Panoyian tugged at the jacket of his formals, as if to say, "Some crust for a Marine," and turned to fetch Ben Rainsford.