The Mystery of Ireta_ Dinosaur Planet & Dinosaur Planet Survivors - Anne McCaffrey [65]
Resolutely she strode to the makeshift fire pit, staring at the blackened stones, at the groove chipped out of opposing stones where a spit must have been placed. She shuddered against rising nausea.
“We’ve seen enough, Bonnard,” she said, gesturing him to follow her back to the sled. She had all she could do not to run from the place.
When they had belted into their seats, she turned to Bonnard, wondering if her face was as white as his.
“You will say nothing of this to anyone, Bonnard. Nothing.”
Her fingers trembled as she made a note of the coordinates. When she lifted the sled, she shoved in a burst of propulsion, overwhelmingly eager to put as much space between her and that charnel spot as she could!
Neither she nor Kai could ignore such an abrogation of basic Federation tenets. For a fleeting moment, she wished she’d made this search alone, then she could have forgotten about it, or tried to. With Bonnard as witness, the matter could not be put aside as a nightmare. The heavy-worlders would have to be officially reprimanded, though she wasn’t sure how efficacious words would be against their physical strength. They were contemptuous enough of their leadership already to have killed and eaten animal flesh.
Varian shook her head sharply, trying to clear her mind of the revulsion that inevitably accompanied that hideous thought.
“Life form, untagged,” Bonnard said in a subdued tone.
Willing for any diversion from her morbid and sickening thoughts, Varian turned the sled, tracking the creature until it crossed a clearing.
“Got it,” said Bonnard. “It’s a fang-face, Varian. And Varian, it’s wounded. Rakers!”
The predator whirled in the clearing, reaching up to beat futilely at the air with its short forefeet. A thick branch had apparently lodged in its ribs. Varian could see fresh blood flowing out of the gaping wound. Then she could no longer ignore the fact that the branch was a crude spear, obviously flung with great force into the beast’s side.
“Aren’t we going to try and help it, Varian?” asked Bonnard as she sent the sled careering away.
“We couldn’t manage it alone, Bonnard.”
“But it will die.”
“Yes, and there’s nothing we can do now. Not even get close enough to spray a seal on the wound and hope that it could dislodge that . . .” She didn’t know why she stopped; she wasn’t protecting the heavy-worlders, and Bonnard had seen the horror.
Hadn’t the carnivores provided the heavy-worlders with enough violence? How many other wounded creatures would she and Bonnard encounter in this part of the world?
“By any chance, had you the taper on, Bonnard?”
“Yes, I did, Varian.”
“Thank you. I’m turning back. I must speak to Kai as soon as possible.” When she saw Bonnard looking at the comunit, she shook her head. “This is an executive matter, Bonnard. Again, I must ask you to say nothing to anyone and . . .” She wanted to add “stay away from the heavy-worlders,” but from the tight, betrayed expression on the boy’s face, she knew such advice would be superfluous.
They continued back to the compound in silence for a while.
“Varian?”
“Yes, Bonnard?” She hoped she had an answer for him.
“Why? Why did they do such a terrible thing?”
“I wish I knew, Bonnard. No incidence of violence stems from a simple cause, or a single motive. I’ve always been told that violence is generally the result of a series of frustrations and pressures that have no other possible outlet.”
“An action has a reaction, Varian. That’s the first thing you learn shipboard.”
“Yes, because you’re often in free fall or outer space, so the first thing you’d have to learn, ship-bred, is to control yourself, your actions.”
“On a heavy world, though,” Bonnard was trying to rationalize so hard, Varian could almost hear him casting about for a justification. “On a heavy world, you would have to struggle all the time, against the gravity.”
“Until you became so used to it, you wouldn’t consider it a struggle. You’d be conditioned