Territory by Deb2

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CHAPTER SIX
AUTHORIZATION

DAY 12
BASECAMP

Baines was puzzled by the intensity of Adair's anger at Danziger; Mazatl enlightened him. They agreed it was best not to question Devon about her little revelation; probably Yale knew as much about it as she did, so the men waited for him to return to camp. They allowed him time to recover from the upslope trudge before asking him if he could elaborate on the Terrian/van Heslin thing. The cyborg suggested it be discussed during supper, as the matter was of concern to the entire group. He did tell them what Devon had not: they weren't welcome in Paradise.

When Danziger returned to camp, he found the group digesting both the meal and the message. Why did the Terrians want them to keep away from van Heslin? What kind of maniac was he? Why weren't the Terrians responding to Alonzo? Since the Terrians didn't want the Edenites in the area, just what were the borders of 'in the area'? Which way should they go? It seemed unlikely they'd be permitted to backtrack. What if they got boxed in? They could lose months.

Devon and Yale initially sheltered Uly from the questions, but the boy enjoyed telling what he knew, and then some. Most of the travellers realized he was embroidering a bit, in spite of his mother's efforts to keep his imagination in check. Eden group shifted its collective attention to Alonzo, obviously expecting him to shed some light on the situation. Alonzo had to fend for himself. He could get to the Dreamplane, but no one answered him. This didn't satisfy anyone, and they muttered among themselves, rehashing the whole mess. Those among them who wanted to settle in "Paradise"--after New Pacifica was readied for the colonists, of course--were genuinely disappointed. Alonzo sat in silence and wondered if the unresponsiveness of the Terrians and the unusual dream were related, but he kept the thought to himself. Perhaps he was a bit like True, not superstitious, but fearing deep inside that once the words were out, they'd become real.

True scolded her father for sneaking off. Since he didn't mention already knowing what Uly said, neither did she. No point in getting into trouble you could avoid. Devon, it appeared, had gotten into trouble by not telling everyone sooner. People were mad at her. Morgan was really upset because he'd been first to meet van Heslin. True could understand that; Morgan felt like she did when Uly took over a game she'd made up, adding new rules and stuff. It wasn't fair.

The girl yawned, then glanced at her dad to see if he'd noticed. He was busy eating and listening to the discussion. True pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, remained in that position only long enough to feel the sweat accumulating wherever her skin hit skin, and unwound herself. She flung belly down on the grass. It was cool. Yale would know why. He always answered her questions; he didn't make a fuss about it, or make her feel like a kid. Yale was a good teacher, really. If you had to have lessons, a personal tutor was the only way to go. Even if he was someone else's tutor. Uly sure could be a know-itall sometimes. Like now. True rested her head in her hands, elbows digging into the soil, and looked at Uly. The little boy was basically holding court, the toy lightning stick a scepter. That would make Yale his counselor, and Devon the queen mother. The queen mother was speaking now, and, since everyone else had gotten quiet, True abandoned her musing in favor of listening.

"Therefore, tomorrow," Devon was saying decisively, "we'll begin stocking up on those vegetables and fruits we can preserve. The vining berries can be dried...? she looked to Bess, who nodded and added "And the pods". Devon thanked Bess and continued 'briefing' the group. "It's likely that van Heslin will avoid us; if he approaches anyone, please do nothing to alarm him. Do ask him about the river. If anyone sees him, and he does not approach, leave him alone." She stared pointedly at John, then surveyed those in attendance. "If we aren't perceived as a threat, he may grow curious and come to us."

Danziger snorted. He figured the man had had plenty of time to 'grow curious'; he'd come within 2 1/2 miles of camp, probably closer, before they knew about him. Van Heslin didn't want anything to do with them. Good, except he *had* to know more about the area than they did. His ability to disappear proved that. It didn't occur to John that he himself, stationborn and bred, might not be much of a tracker.

"All materials and supplies we don't need day to day can be packed," Devon said. "We don't know how long the Terrians will allow us to stay. I think it prudent to be ready to move out on a moment's notice."

Everyone agreed with her on that.
"Needless to say, there will be no more active searches for van Heslin. Agreed?" Once again she surveyed the group. They, in turn, discreetly and not so discreetly, looked from her to the mechanic seated off to her left.

"Agreed," said Danziger. He wasn't sure what an inactive search was, but figured he could work it out before morning.

Julia spoke up. "Bess and I will continue our preservation research. Whichever direction we go, we have to eat."

"Thank you. I appreciate all the time and effort you're putting into the project. Both of you."

"I think we may be getting close." "That's good, very good. Thank you, Julia." Devon smiled and focused her attention on wrapping up the discussion.

Alonzo put his arm around the doctor. "For one breathless moment, I thought you meant you and I may be getting close," he murmured.

Julia interlocked her fingers with his. "We may." "I would certainly appreciate all the time and effort you can put into the project," he promised.

The pretty doctor blushed, a pretty blush wasted in the moonlights. She was no prude; at the stations, Julia had indulged in her share of encounters. But that's all it had been, indulgence, simply using a man. But Alonzo was so different. Being with him was important. He really wasn't the best lover she'd known; he was, however, the man she'd stay with even if he wasn't a lover at all. Julia smiled into Alonzo's eyes. But he was. She freed her hand and started away, saying something about reviewing the days' research before turning in.

Cameron and Baines exchange knowing glances. "Yeah, research," Baines said under his breath.

Sure enough, in a short time, the pilot trailed after her.

Morgan and Denner stood first guard during the night. The others slept, some sooner, some later. Almost all eventually woke during the night and pulled blankets over their cots. Bess slept soundly because her husband covered her when he returned to the tent for a jacket. Devon placed extra covering over her son, tenderly smoothing the wrinkles and folds. He stirred, halfwaking and observing that it smelled like rain, then slipped back to his little boy dreams.

Devon stood just outside her tent, wrapped in a reflective blanket, inhaling as deeply as her lungs permitted. The air did carry the scent they'd learned to associate with rain. She regarded the sky apprehensively. A few starry patches twinkled, and light from the larger moon was diffusing thru the clouds. Just a shower, then. Surely there weren't enough clouds to bring a downpour. As Devon turned to go back to bed, she remembered: weather tended to run west to east on G889. The woman walked the few paces needed to view the plain across the river. Clearly visible were stars at the horizon. Clouds obscured a good part of the sky, but not enough to worry about. She hoped.

"Adair," rumbled from just behind her, startling her. Devon had learned long before G889 how to stifle the reflex, giving an appearance of calm and control which often caused business associates to reevaluate the strength of the beautiful woman. So, poised on the outside and with butterflies on the inside, Devon answered.

"Yes, John?"
"About this afternoon..."
What part of this afternoon? Several of the butterflies iced up and plummeted to the pit of her stomach.

"...I guess I should have said something about leaving." "Yes, you should have," she agreed, all trace of butterflies gone. John did owe her--and the entire group--an apology.

"Yeah, well. Guess I'll go on back to bed." He headed toward his tent.

"You're not on guard?" asked Devon, sounding as if he should be, feeling dissatisfied with his 'apology'.

Danziger held his arms outstretched. "Do you see a MagPro, Adair?"

"No. Then what are you doing out here?" He dropped his arms to his sides and laughed. "Adair. Are you going to bawl me out for 'unauthorized urination'?" John shook his head and walked back to his tent, chuckling.

Devon felt the red creeping up her cheeks. She retreated to her cot, tempted to pull the covers over her head. Why was she so embarrassed? She tried, unsuccessfully, to work up an anger. Devon did pull the covers up over her head, just for a minute. She heard a few raindrops hit the tent roof. The dreaded rain gradually increased to a steady patter and lulled her to sleep.

DAY 13
BASECAMP

The sun rose just as brightly as the morning before. It shone just as unchallenged in a cloudless sky, but the air was considerably cooler. Sleeves and long pants would be the attire for the day. Wonderful.

Devon stepped out into the invigorating breeze...and stopped in her tracks. Every other member of Eden Advance, save Yale, was lined up in front of her tent. She looked around, bewildered. Uly and True were whispering and snickering; Bess shushed them. John was at the tail of the line, Baines at the head. All stood at rigid attention, now that the kids were quietened.

"What is going on?" she asked slowly, suspiciously. Out of the corner of her eye, Devon saw Yale carefully not laughing. His lips were composed, but his eyes gave it away.

Baines stepped forward. "Request authorization to take a leak, Ms. Adair," he said smartly.

Denner immediately stepped forward, and snapped out, "Request authorization to go pee, Ms. Adair."

Magus repeated Denner word for word, but Walman asked for 'pissing permission'. Julia asked for 'urination authorization'. They got only as far as True, who asked brightly if she could 'do number one' before Devon ran shouting to the end of the line.

"John H. Danziger!!"
"Looks like she's pissed, Danziger," quipped Alonzo. "She used your full name."

Danziger left his place in line and ran behind Yale, who'd given up not laughing. Eden Advance had given up not laughing. Devon, who realized joining the fun was by far the best course, chased Danziger from one end of the camp to the other, screaming his name, throwing things at him (which would slightly complicate packing later that day), and, eventually catching him. The kids blocked his way, waving their arms to herd him in another direction. In an effort not to run them down, John tripped over his own feet. Devon fell over him. She quickly, if not gracefully, righted herself and scrambled to her feet.

"John Danziger..."
"You caught me, Adair. I was getting kind of winded, so actually I'm 'relieved'". He cracked up at his own joke.

Devon snorted in disgust. She wiped her hands off on her pants and strode purposefully toward the area of woods designated latrine. "You'll have to excuse me," she said in an exaggeratedly haughty manner, "but I have some personal matters to see to." The queenly woman paused when she reached Yale. "I appreciate your not taking part in that...that practical joke."

"You are quite welcome, Devon, but you misunderstand. I am no longer a young man and chose not to wait for authorization."

Eden Advance as a whole was invigorated by the change in temperature, and set about packing and storing as Devon had suggested. Altho' she'd evidently enjoyed the joke as much as any of them (except maybe John), they were making up for it by 'asking how high on the way up when she said jump'.

Foraging teams went out after lunch, briefed again by Devon on encountering van Heslin. One member of each team was armed. Danziger thought the latter eliminated the need for the former, but didn't bother to argue with Devon about it. If she thought van Heslin would come near them when he saw the MagPros...maybe she'd reached the same conclusion he had, that the man wouldn't come near them under any circumstances. Not alone, anyway.

Morgan buried the latest attempt to preserve whiteroot. It was an unpleasant chore. He packed the earth down on the gray mess as firmly as possible, as if it might crawl out of its grave, then stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned on the handle. The former bureaucrat stared off into the distance, hands calloused, nails dirty and broken. There was, he admitted reluctantly, a satisfaction gained from even menial chores well done. The Level 4 Morgan Martin would never have lowered himself to wield a shovel. The Level 4 Morgan didn't have the strength to do the job, physically or otherwise. He sighed. If he'd known then what he knew now about his own abilities, he'd have been at least a Level 6. At least. It was such a loss. He had so much to offer. There was so much to take!

Bess hollered at him. She and Julia wanted to get going. The deeper tubers were larger and rather woody, so they ate the smaller ones close to the surface. Julia wanted to see if the woody tubers could be dried and ground into a flour. Alonzo was coming along to carry the gun, and Morgan was coming to carry the shovel. And use it, no doubt; Flyboy couldn't dig up whiteroot without slicing thru half of them. They spoiled fast enough whole.

He pulled the blade from the ground and tossed the shovel up and out a bit, catching the handle at its center of gravity. Good old Level 4 would have cut off a toe trying that.

Danziger joined them on the way back, to Bess's delight. Here was an extra pair of hands to carry extra bags of fruit. She detoured their party to a tree-climbing berry vine they'd bypassed on the way out in favor of lower, bush-climbing cousins. It was laden with fruit from blossom to overripe and all stages between. Bess showed John how to strip the ripe berries off without damaging them and gave him a few tips about recognizing overripe, undesirable ones. She beamed encouragement, patted his arm and said, "That's good, John, that's really good."

"What you ought to do, John," suggested Morgan, "is pull the vine closer to the ground so we can reach those berries."

"That's a good idea," admitted Danziger, and he did, grasping the branch favored by the vine and tugging it downward.

The team scattered around and began picking. Morgan chose a spot near the mechanic, who limited his one-handed berry picking to those he wanted to eat. John figured out almost immediately why the overripe ones were undesirable.

"So, any luck?" asked Morgan quietly. He continued to gather berries, eating the very best, of course.

"What do you mean?"
"Did you see any sign of van Heslin?" "No active searching, remember?"
"We've been traveling companions for several months now, John, and I know you wouldn't let a little thing like that stop you." Morgan looked sideways at him.

Danziger regarded him silently for a moment before replying disgustedly, "Not a thing. The ground's soft-" he demonstrated by jabbing his heel in the dirt-"so there'd be prints."

"Hmm," said Morgan sagely. "You know, I bet we never see him again."

"Maybe not. But if we do, I'd want it to be on our terms."

Devon's foragers had a bit of an adventure. In a patch of woodland, while gathering samples for testing, they were surprised by a pair of kobas. The kobas, evidently foraging themselves, rummaged thru the sack of vegetation True had put down so she could 'help' Walman keep an eye out for van Heslin. When the little girl went back for it, one animal was emptying the sack, sample by sample, throwing away most of them, and passing a chosen few to its partner. True peered through the leaves at them, clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter and slipped away to find Uly. She motioned for him to follow. He crept up and stared wide-eyed at the dangerous little critters who were so adorably engrossed in scattering three hours' work hither and yon. Probably no one else would have known about the kobas if Devon hadn't clomped thru the underbrush, calling for her son.

The pair of thieves looked up, quickly distributed their haul evenly, and sped off for the denser woods.

Devon grabbed both children by an arm and hurried them in the opposite direction, sending Walman back for the bag while simultaneously scolding the kids. The team returned to camp earlier than planned.

Julia tested their pickings late in the afternoon; nothing in True's bag was edible. Uly and True couldn't understand Julia's surprise. She knew about the kobas. It only made sense that the kobas took the good stuff.

Baines sat in the shade, methodically liberating what Yale called 'burrs' from his pant legs. Yale had given a mini-lecture, informing him that burrs were seeds, and that 'cockleburrs' were the inspiration for velcro. Baines didn't feel exactly honored to have been chosen as transport for the things. Removing them was tedious. They had to be pulled off one at a time. The same barbs that hooked fabric sometimes hooked skin, never deep enough to bleed, but leaving his fingers sore nonetheless. Julia had asked him to collect them--the burrs, not his fingers--in a jar; with his luck, they would not only be edible, but delicious. Well, *he* wasn't gathering any more burrs. He'd show Julia or Bess or anyone else the patch--from a distance.

Magus was in charge of the evening meal, Baines noted. That was alright; she wasn't an artist like the Earthress, but she was coming right along. The stationborn tech looked around for Bess. He snorted. Bess was too good for Morgan, even if she was born on Earth. She was a fine-looking woman, a genuine pleasure to watch, but it wasn't her looks that made her too good for that bureaucratic ass. No, Bess was just naturally classy. She was born with class, not like Devon, who'd learned it. Yeah, there was a difference.

Ouch! Baines studied his finger. Some of the barbs were breaking off. He chewed at them, a thoughtful expression on his face. Bess sashayed from her tent to the kitchen. Her classiness, the tech decided, was to the bone. Devon Adair's was more like a veneer, something she'd bought. Not that she wasn't a good person. And she was almost as easy on the eye as Bess. Baines pulled more burrs off. Most of them were in that jar for Dr. Heller. Baines grinned. One advantage to G889--no ugly women. Every last female he had to look at was good-looking, and a couple of them were undeniably beautiful. There weren't enough to go around, however. Bess and Julia were taken, and Devon would be if Danziger wasn't such a coward. Adair evidently had the hots for him; why didn't John *do* something?

There she was, heading over to him now. Needed to talk business with him, no doubt. Danziger would just keep fiddling with that headset. Like yesterday, fiddling with the ATV. And she'd walked right up to him in a nearly deserted camp. She could've walked up stark naked and Danziger would have kept working on the ATV.

John needed to realize this was a whole new world with a whole new set of rules.

"Any luck?" asked Devon. When John replied only with a questioning expression, she elaborated. "Come on, Danziger, you can't expect me to believe you didn't look for van Heslin."

"I agreed not to, didn't I?"
"And that makes a difference?"
"You calling me a liar, Adair?" he demanded incredulously. Devon leaned against the tree. "No, John, I'm not," she said firmly. And, in a casual tone, "So, did you see any indication of humans other than ourselves?"

"Nah. Nothing. You know, Adair, if it wasn't for the arrow, I'd think Morgan made it all up."

"No. No, he's out there."
"He could be watching us right now," said Danziger, scanning the landscape. "Hiding in those woods."

"I can always count on you for reassurance," said Devon wryly.

"Sure thing." Danziger grinned. "By the way, I hear you almost let my kid get koba'd."

"Uly, too. You know, if kobas weren't so dangerous, it would have been a charming scene." She faced John and said pensively, "They appear to be remarkably intelligent."

"And remarkably poisonous. Nasty little bastards," he reminded her bitterly. Danziger would never forget O'Neill's dying out there in the desert, leaving him alone, with the responsibility of taking the body back. It had been a false death, but the shock had been real.

"Supper's ready," called Magus. She'd picked up Bess's habit of announcing to all within shouting distance that it was time to eat. One day, a Grendler or something would show up at the table.

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