Connie Willis - Uncharted Territory

We were still three kloms from Kings X when Carson spotted the dust. What on hells that? he said, leaning forward over his ponys pommelbone and pointing at nothing that I could see.

Where? I said.

Over there. All that dust.

I still couldnt see anything except the pinkish ridge that hid Kings X, and a couple of luggage grazing on the scourbrush, and I told him so.

My shit, Fin, what do you mean you cant he said, disgusted. Hand me the binocs.

Youve got em, I said. I gave em to you yesterday. Hey, Bult! I called up to our scout.

He was hunched over the log on his ponys saddlebone, punching in numbers. Bult! I shouted. Do you see any dust up ahead?

He still didnt look up, which didnt surprise me. He was busy doing his favorite thing, tallying up fines.

I gave the binocs back to you, Carson said. This morning when we packed up.

This morning? I said. This morning you were in such an all-fired hurry to get back to Kings X and meet the new loaner you probably went off and left em lying in camp. Whats her name again? Evangeline?

Evelyn Parker, he said. I was not in a hurry.

How come you ran up two-fifty in fines breaking camp, then?

Because Bults on some kind of fining spree the last few days, he said. And the only hurry Ive been in is to finish up this expedition before every dime of our wages goes for fines, which looks like a lost cause now that you lost the binocs.

You werent in a hurry yesterday, I said. Yesterday you were all ready to ride fifty kloms north on the off-chance of running into Wulfmeier, and then C.J. calls and tells you the new loaners in and her names Eleanor, and all of a sudden you cant get home fast enough.

Evelyn, Carson said, getting red in the face, and I still say Wulfmeiers surveying that sector. You just dont like loaners.

Youre right about that, I said. Theyre more trouble than theyre worth. Ive never met a loaner yet that was worth taking along, and the females are the worst.

They come in one variety: whiners. They spend every minute of the expedition complainingabout the outdoor plumbing and the dust and Bult and having to ride ponies and everything else they can think of. The last one spent the whole expedition yowling about terrocentric enslaving imperialists, meaning Carson and me, and how wed corrupted the simple, noble indigenous sentients, meaning Bult, which was bad enough, but then she latched onto Bult and told him our presence defiled the very atmosphere of the planet, and Bult started trying to fine us for breathing.

I laid the binocs right next to your bedroll, Fin, Carson said, reaching behind him to rummage in his pack.

Well, I never saw em.

Thats because youre half-blind, he said. You cant even see a cloud of dust when its coming right at you.

Well, as a matter of fact, wed been arguing long enough that now I could, a kicked-up line of pinkish cloud close to the ridge.

What do you think it is? A dust tantrum? I said, even though a tantrum wouldve been meandering all over the place, not keeping to a line.

I dont know, he said, putting his hand up to shade his eyes. A stampede maybe.

The only fauna around here were luggage, and they didnt stampede in dry weather like this, and anyway the cloud wasnt wide enough for a stampede. It looked like the dust churned up by a rover, or a gate opening.

I kicked my terminal on and asked for whereabouts on the gatecrashers. Id shown Wulfmeier on Dazil yesterday when Carsond been so set on going after him, and now the whereabouts showed him on Starting Gate, which meant he probably wasnt either place. But hed have to be crazy to open a gate this close to Kings X, even if there was anything underneath herewhich there wasnt, Id already run terrains and subsurfacesespecially knowing we were on our way home.

I squinted at the dust, wondering if I should ask for a verify. I could see now it was moving fast, which meant it wasnt a gate, or a pony, and the dust was too low for the heli. Looks like the rover, I said. Maybe the new loanerwhat was her name? Ernestine?is as jumped for you as you are for her, and shes coming out here to meet you. You better comb your mustache.

He wasnt paying any attention. He was still rummaging in his pack, looking for the binocs. I laid em right next to your bedroll when you were loading the ponies.

Well, I didnt see em, I said, watching the dust. It was a good thing it wasnt a stampede, it would have run us over while we stood there arguing about the binocs. Maybe Bult took em.

Why on hell would Bult take em? Carson bellowed. His are a hell of a lot fancier than ours.

They were, with selective scans and programmed polarizers, and Bult had hung them around the second joint of his neck and was peering through them at the dust. I rode up next to him. Can you see whats making the dust? I asked.

He didnt take the binocs down from his eyes. Disturbance of land surface, he said severely. Fine of one hundred.

I shouldve known it. Bult couldve cared less about what was making the dust so long as he could get a fine out of it. You cant fine us for dust unless we make it, I said. Give me the binocs.

He bent his neck double, took the binocs off, and handed them to me, and then hunched over his log again. Forcible confiscation of property, he said into his log. Twenty-five.

Confiscation! I said. Youre not going to fine me with confiscating anything. I asked if I could borrow them.

Inappropriate tone and manner in speaking to an indigenous person, he said into the log. Fifty.

I gave up and put the binocs up to my eyes. The cloud of dust looked like it was right on top of me, but no clearer. I upped the resolution and took another look. Its the rover, I called to Carson, whod gotten off his pony and was taking everything out of his pack.

Whos driving? he said. C.J.?

I hit the polarizers to screen out the dust and took another look. Whatd you say this loaners name was, Carson?

Evelyn. Did C.J. bring her out with her?

Its not C.J. driving, I said.

Well, who on hell is it? Dont tell me one of the indidges stole the rover again.

Unfair accusation of indigenous person, Bult said. Seventy-five.

You know how you always get mad over the indidges giving things the wrong names? I said.

What on hell does that have to do with whos driving the rover? Carson said.

Because it looks like the indidges arent the only ones doing it, I said. It looks like now Big Brothers doing it, too.

Give me those binocs, he said, grabbing for em.

Forcible confiscation of property, I said, holding them away from him. Looks like you couldve taken your time this morning and not gone off in such a hurry you forgot ours.

I handed the binocs back to Bult, and just to be contrary, he handed them to Carson, but the rover was close enough now we didnt need them.

It roared up in a cloud of dust, skidded to a halt right on top of a roadkill, and the driver jumped out and strode over to us without even waiting for the dust to clear.

Carson and Findriddy, I presume, he said, grinning.

Now usually when we meet a loaner, they dont have eyes for anybody but Bult (or C.J., if shes there and the loaners a male), especially if Bults unfolding himself off his pony the way he was now, straightening out his back joints one after the other till he looks like a big pink Erector set. Then, while the loaners are still picking their jaws up out of the dirt, one of the ponies keels over or else drops a pile the size of the rover. Its tough to compete with. So we usually get noticed last or else have to say something like, Bults only dangerous when he senses your fear, to get their attention.