“When I think of the slogging we'd be saved . . .”
"I dunno," said Margit, interrupting Dimenon. She placed a coil of wire on the sled deck. "We do so raking much by remote. I know I've done something today." She groaned. I feel it in every bone and in muscles I didn't know I had. We're soft. No wonder the heavy-worlders sneer at us."
“Them!” A world of scorn was expressed in Dimenon's single word.
Kai and Varian exchanged quick glances.
“I know they were bloody hungover or something earlier on, but I was glad enough of Paskutti's muscle this afternoon?” Margit went on, pulling herself into the sled and settling down beside Terilla. “Get in, Di, I'm dying for a wash, and I bloody hope that Portegin's de-odourizer has fixed the water stink. Hydro-telluride does not enhance the body beautiful. So how did you pass the day, scamp?” she asked Terilla.
While the three young people kept a conversation going, Varian wondered, as she set the sled on its baseward course, just what happened to occasion Dimenon's captious attitude. Perhaps it was no more than irritation with the heavy-worlder's behaviour in the morning, and reaction to the excitement of such a rich find. She must ask Kai later. She didn't want her team coming into contention with his, and she would be the first to admit the heavy-worlders had been less than efficient. Or was Dimenon still irked over last night's
alcohol rationing?
There were dangers inherent in mixing planet– and ship-bred groups and EV kept it down to a minimum whenever possible. The Iretan expedition had needed the brawn of the heavy-worlders and Varian and Kai would simply have to work out the problems.
Varian was a bit depressed. A computer could give you a probability index on any situation. This mission had had a good one. But a computer couldn't adjust its input with such unexpected details as a stink and constant gloom or drizzle affecting tempers or a cosmic storm cutting off communications with the mother ship: it certainly hadn't printed out the fact that a planet listed as unexplored was now giving immutable evidence of previous survey, not to mention anomalies like . . . But if, Varian thought, there had been the survey, maybe such things as pentadactyl development and aquatic collapsing parallelograms were entirely possible! Yet which was indigenous? Both couldn't be!
Fliers having to find grass so far from their natural habitat? Varian's spirits lifted again with excitement. And if the golden fliers, who were pentadactyl, were not indigenous, then the herbivores and predators they'd so far encountered were not indigenous either! Not anomalies: conundrums. And how? By whom? The Others? No, not the ubiquitous Others. They destroyed all life, if there were any substance to the rumour that such sentient beings existed.
The Theks might know about the previous survey . . . if Kai could generate them into a serious attempt at recall. By Matter! She'd sit through an interchange herself to find out! Wait till she told Kai that!
CHAPTER SIX
Kai had as much to reflect upon as Varian as he sledded back to the encampment. For one thing, he was minus some irreplaceable equipment which Paskutti and Tardma had dropped down a crevice. EV had allowed him only the minimum of seismic spares and the last group he'd expect to be careless with equipment were the heavy-worlders. They moved so deliberately they avoided most accidents. He couldn't restrict the heavy-worlders from drinking the distillation but he'd have to ask Lunzie to dilute any given them from now on. He couldn't afford more losses.
An expeditionary force was permitted so many credits in loss of equipment due to unforeseeable accidents but above that figure, the leaders found their personal accounts docked. The loss of the equipment was bothering Kai more than any possible credit subtraction: it was a loss caused by sheer negligence. That irritated him. And his irritation annoyed him more because this should have been a day of personal and team satisfaction: he had achieved what he had been sent to do. Ruthlessly now he suppressed negative feelings.
Beside him Gaber was chattering away in the best spirits the cartographer had exhibited since landing. Berru and Triv were discussing the next day's work in terms of which of the coloured lakes would be the richest in ore-minerals. Triv was wishing for just one remote sensor, with a decent infra-red eye to pierce the everlasting clouds. A week's filming in a polar orbit and the job would be done.
“We do have the probe's tapes.” Berru said.
“That only sounded land mass and ocean depth. No definition, no infra-red to penetrate that eternal cloud cover.”
“I asked for a proper pre-landing remote sensing,” Gaber said, the note of petulance back in his voice
“So did I,” said Kai, “and was told there wasn't a suitable satellite in stores. We have to do it the hard way, in person.”
“That would seem to be the criterion for this expedition?” said Gaber, giving Kai a sly glance. “Everything's done the hard way.”
“You've gone soft, Gaber, That's all,” said Triv. “Not enough time in the grav gym on shipboard. I enjoy the challenge, frankly. I've gone flabby. This trip's good for all of us. We're spoiled with a punch-a-button-dial-a-comfort system. We need to get back to nature, test our sinews, circulate our blood and . . .”
“Breath deeply of stinking air?” asked Gaber when Triv, carried away by his own eloquence, briefly faltered.
“What, Gaber? Lost your nose filters again?”
Gaber was easy to tease and Triv continued in a bantering way until Kai turned the sled through the gap in the hills to their encampment. Kai had affected not to acknowledge Gaber's glance although, tied in with Gaber's notion of planting, “doing everything the hard way” could well be a prelude to the abandonment that was euphemistically termed “planting”. It could account for quite a number of deletions in Kai's original requisition list. Remote sensors were expensive equipment to leave behind with a planted colony. But, if the colony were supposed to be self-sufficient, surely some mining equipment would have been included so that they could refine needed metals for buildings and for replacement of worn-out parts, like sled members. There would have been . . . “Do it the hard way” rang ominously in Kai's mind. He'd better have a long chat with Varian as soon as he could.
However, if this expedition were genuine – the urgent need for the transuranics was a chronic condition in the FPS – then someone, if not their own ARTC-10 EV, would strip the message from the beamer satellite, and take the appropriate action of returning to Ireta to extract the all-important ores and minerals and, incidentially, rescue them. The positive thought encouraged Kai, and he employed the rest of the trip by formulating messages; first to the Thek and then for the long distance capsule. No, he'd only the one capsule. Two large deposits did not really constitute dispatching it. So, first he would frame a message for his next contact with the Thek about the old cores, and the uranium deposits. He would hold the ldc until he could justify its trip. He'd no genuine cause for alarm, apart from a vague suspicion of an ageing cartographer.
To his surprise, the heavy-worlders who had left the site considerably before him to return by lift-belt, had not arrived at the compound. The other sleds had all returned safely. The youngsters were cosseting Dandy while Lunzie watched. She used her over-seeing as an excuse not to answer the importunities of Portegin and Aulia for more joy juice. He saw neither Varian nor Trizein and had decided she must be in the xeno-chemist's laboratory in the shuttle when the heavy-worlders, in their neat formation, came swooping in from the north. The north? He started towards the veil lock to ask Paskutti about such a detour when Varian hailed him from the shuttle. She sounded excited so he hurried over, leaving Paskutti till another time.
“Kai, Trizein thinks he knows why the fliers must need the grasses,” she said when he got near enough. “The stuff is full of carotene . . . Vitamin A. They must need it for eyesight and pigmentation.”