“Any data on there that might be helpful?” Cleve asks Marina, nodding at the bioscanner she’s fiddling with.
“It’s designed to scan a local native lifeform and give you readouts on interesting things like, well, I guess what we’re calling the resonance field now. We have a very primitive understanding of it,” she tells him. The device has no stored data that can explain what happened to its former owner.
“If it can detect something related to resonance fields, can you take a reading right now?” I ask.
“Yes, sure,” she says, somewhat perplexed.
“I’m still tuned in to this craw,” I tell her, indicating Distracter.
Her eyes go wide. “Ooooh.” After some fiddling and muttering, she announces triumphantly that she’s now able to get a better understanding of how I’m rearranging the resonance fields. Well, not what technique I’m using, but what my effect is on them. So, yeah, guess it turns out I’ve been rearranging fields this whole time. And we thought Cleve was the farmer. “Right now, there’s a resonance link between you and that craw,” Marina announces. She slowly paces between me and Distracter, moving her device around, tracking subtle changes in the readings. “But not between you and that other one,” she adds. That makes sense to me. I only really concentrated on Distracter. It’s so validating to know that there’s a detectable link between me and it. I mean, I know that I’m really doing something, but it’s reassuring that someone else can externally verify it.
Marina shares another excellent bit of news. She should be able to use the bioscanner to identify very highly localized resonant regions. Like measuring the feng shui of a room, I guess. The device isn’t designed for that purpose, but she has enough scientific understanding to interpret the results accordingly. “That’s so cool!” I tell her excitedly. “In places that have air filters, it’s harder for me to do this type of thing. But if there’s a way to tell where the resonance waves are all congregating or whatever, that might help me when I’m inside.”
Right now, though, we’re outside, and since I’m still linked to Destracter, I might as well see if it’s interested in any other deals. “Hey craws, you’ve got built in claws.” The craws are small enough to scuttle through the briars without having to cut them, but their claws could probably help us tear a path through.
Distracter looks at me quizzically for a moment, and I gesture at the vines entangling the rover. Thief has no interest, but that’s not surprising since I haven’t forged a link with it. Thief pokes Distracter, trying to get its friend to play with the taser more. Distracter, though, is willing to assist and understands even better once Cleve pulls a machete out of the trunk and starts hacking. We all set to work. Even Thief helps out once it realizes Distracter is too busy for zaps.
As we remove briars, freeing up the rover and a path forward through this patch, Cleve uncovers more of Ayumu’s equipment. He pops open their metal mess kit to check the contents. Inside, he finds a fuel burner and a small pot to set atop it. Then, in addition to cutlery and rotted food, there’s a small notebook stuffed in a bowl for protection from the elements. That we’re finding all of this so close to Data Haven is a little disturbing. This ranger came so far, only to succumb to something just within reach of safety.
Marina corrects my understanding of the situation. Ayumu was her ranger guide to Data Haven. They successfully delivered Dr. Citali and her two nurses, then headed back into the Monsoon Jungle. “So if Ayumu died on the return trip, your people might not even know you safely made it to Data Haven,” I realize.
“Oh my gosh,” Marina whispers.
“This isn’t dated,” Cleve says of the note flipped to the front of the pad. “It’s a to-do list. Escort Dr. Citali and entourage—that one’s crossed off as done. Hunt bush bug—done.” At my quizzical expression, Marina shares that bush bugs don’t live around the Garden of Chiron. They’re local to the Data Haven area, so Ayumu would have needed to bag some here to take back. “Betcha they want to farm them,” Cleve says. He resumes reading the list. “Check out new Progenitor ruin. That’s still to-do. And at the bottom there’s a starred comment: careful with flash floods. Exclamation point.”
Makes sense. That’s the monsoon part of the Monsoon Jungle. “What’s this about a Progenitor ruin?” I ask curiously. Cleve gives me a pointed look, and I bet I know what he’s thinking about. “The other Progenitor ruin we explored was essentially a dungeon,” I tell Marina, “a prison.” She blanches and slips a hand into her coat pocket, taking some comfort from just feeling a stick of gum.
Cleve unslings his backpack. When he opens it to stash the mess kit inside, Thief stomps over to where we’ve been conferring, clacking its claws angrily. The paper note doesn’t matter to it, but it clearly feels a sense of ownership for the mess kit itself. “I think that already belongs to the craws,” I tell Cleve.
“Fair enough,” he says. Easy come, easy go. We have the information we need. And what would we have used the mess kit for anyway? Trading with the next set of craws? “Maybe the craws could give us a little direction then?” Cleve asks. Clearly they got the kit from somewhere.
That is a much more complicated question to try to ask. I crouch down, level with Distracter again, and concentrate on trying to feel the link between us. The cane is warm in my hand, and I can feel the purple glow flaring in my eyes. Distracter stills and focuses just on me. “Can you show us where you and your friend found these things?” Of course they can! That doesn’t cost them anything. It’s an action, not a cool item. The only things left behind at the site are items the craws didn’t want anyway. It’s happy to show me the way. These are the impressions I get. There are feelings of satisfaction and happiness, but they are clearly distinct from my own emotions. Am I just making the leaps of logic myself to provide rationales for them? Maybe. I can’t articulate how I know what I do. But my human companions don’t question me when I announce that the craws will show us the way.
All this time we’re spending with them, I’m wishing I hadn’t labeled them as Distracter and Thief in my mind. I’d hate it if someone just called me Salesman all the time. That was one of the annoying things about working under Morgan, the heavy emphasis on titles. As these thoughts go through my mind, a few strange sensory memories flick to the surface. The sticky feel of bluebell ointment on my face and chest, the smell of freshly roasted shroomnuts. I crinkle my brow in confusion and look at Distracter, trying to figure out what communication is taking place. A vibrant blue flashes across my vision. This craw is associated with bluebells. I look over at the other one, and the taste of shroomnuts makes my mouth water. Maybe that’s how Bluebell thinks of Thief, as Shroomnuts. Well, great then, we’re introduced now.
Since I now have names to use, I feel a little bad about considering them both as “it.” I ask Marina if craws show any sexual dimorphism, and she tells me they’re parthenogenic. Scientists would use “it” or “she” to refer to such creatures, since they reproduce without sexual activity. I keep a chuckle to myself: asexuality, one more thing me and these craws have in common.