“Captain?” Valentina said to him. As she spoke, she walked toward where a vine bearing hard-shelled fruit crawled along hull-plates whose seams had ruptured. “How long has the ship been here? Do your people have year records?”
“Missy, not there!” the native warned in sudden alarm. He thrust his spear before her in bar. “The firebugs will gnaw your bones!”
“What?” Valentina said. She stopped and turned to the native, but she was still within a foot of the dangling fruit.
Daniel, guessing the problem without knowing the specifics of it, touched Valentina’s forearm and moved her back more by guidance than force. “See the little holes in the rind of those orange gourds?” he said. “I think the chief means that there are insects, insectoids, living there that defend the fruit.”
The Captain nodded approvingly at Daniel. He tapped the vine with his spear-point, then stepped back quickly. From three holes in the nearest gourd spilled insects so tiny they looked like a seepage of liquid. Individually they had black shells with a line of red.
“Firebugs!” the fellow said. “They guard the money plants. Maybe tomorrow I smoke them out to get the money seeds, but today we must bury the old Lieutenant.”
He looked shrewdly at Daniel and added, “Perhaps you fly me here again quick-quick in your flying boat?”
“Perhaps,” Daniel temporized. “But answer the Countess’ question: how long ago did this ship crash?”
The Captain shrugged. “Long long time,” he said. “My mother’s father’s father came on this.”
“So the crew survived?” said the Klimovna. “Do you have artifacts from the ship?”
“Some live, some die,” said the Captain with another shrug. “Now all dead.”
He looked at the wreck with a spark of interest which quickly faded. “Once our village was rich from this,” he said, “but that was long long past. There’s nothing left to take, not for long long time.”
Klimov frowned. “Perhaps there’s a locked compartment these natives couldn’t get into? he said to Daniel. “One that might hold the Earth Diamond?”
“If a number of the crew survived, they’d have been able to open any compartments—by force with tools from the vessel if no other way,” Daniel said. “And this wasn’t John Tsetzes’ ship, your excellency.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Klimov said, sinking into himself again. “Damn it, so close and nothing!”
Perhaps close, thought Daniel. But in his heart he was just as disappointed as the Count.
“You take me back,” the Captain said. “We bury the old Lieutenant today. There be much food, much drink.”
He smacked his lips; for further emphasis he slapped his belly with his free hand. His palm and spread fingers cracked like pistol shots.
“Yes, we’ll take you back,” said the Klimovna with a look of calculation. “And we’ll supply you with a tub of slash if you let us—let me, at least—record the funeral celebration.”
Daniel’s protest didn’t make it to his tongue. He thought it was a bloody poor idea to get the villagers drunk and sit in the middle of them, but Valentina already knew what her employee thought. She was going to do as she pleased anyway.
Well, Daniel had obeyed orders before that he disagreed with. That was how a chain of command worked.
“Yes, missy!” the Captain said. He laughed heartily, then added, “Poor bastard Lieutenant, he miss all this slash by one day only! He chew rocks when we put him in the ground!”
“Right!” Daniel said. “We’ll get back then, shall we?”
Speaking from his side, Adele said, “I’ve radioed ahead, in case Mr. Pasternak needs to run more liquor. Fortunately, slash doesn’t seem to require aging.”
“And I,” said the Klimovna, “will fly us back. You will not argue.”
Daniel bowed to her. “I wouldn’t think of arguing, your excellency,” he said. “It’s a fine idea.”
“Yes,” said Adele. “A lifesaver, I would put it.”
* * *
Adele, walking alongside the aircar with Daniel, hadn’t thought much about what the funeral feast would entail. She was shocked to see the dead man tied to the base of a tree in a seated position, his legs splayed out in front of him. His scrawny body was stark naked, but he’d been painted orange, blue, and yellow. If there was a pattern, it was too subtle for Adele to recognize it.