“Hazzard flew them back to the ship,” Brandon explained before Jordan could ask. “Remotely, from the ship. Meek and de Falla rode one of them.”
Brandon’s phone chirped. As he flicked it open, Jordan looked over his brother’s shoulder and saw Thornberry’s heavy-browed face.
“We’re on our way down to you,” said the roboticist, grinning happily. “Hazzard’s flying the bird in person, he is.”
“Great,” said Brandon. “Jordy and I are here at the glade, waiting for you.”
“Be with you shortly,” Thornberry said. Then the phone’s little screen broke into hissing static and went blank.
“Plasma blackout,” Brandon muttered.
Adri, standing on Jordan’s other side, said, “I would like to invite your friends to stay in our city. We have adequate facilities to take care of them all.”
Jordan smiled doubtfully. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate the offer—and reject it.”
“I don’t see why,” Adri said.
“A variety of reasons,” said Jordan. “Adherence to the mission protocol, for one. Our mission plan made no provisions for finding a friendly native city on New Earth.”
“But surely now that you know we are here, your plan can be altered, adapted.”
Jordan shook his head. “Perhaps later, when the others get to know you better, get accustomed to you.”
“Ahh,” Adri said, understanding dawning on his face. “Fear. That is the greatest reason of them all, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid it motivates almost everything we do,” Jordan admitted. “Almost everything.”
Camping Out
A double clap of deep thunder pealed across the grassy glade.
“They’ve gone subsonic,” said Brandon.
“There they are!” Adri pointed a long arm. At first Jordan saw nothing, then the swept-wing shape of the rocketplane came into his focus, trailing clean white contrails from its wingtips.
His eyesight must be considerably better than mine, Jordan thought.
“What a beautiful machine,” said Adri, in an awed near-whisper.
Jordan tried to see the rocketplane through the alien’s eyes. Yes, it is beautiful, he realized. Graceful as a swan, purposeful as an eagle.
The plane made a wide sweeping turn as it swooped lower, put down its landing gear, then came in over the trees at the far end of the glade and touched down smoothly on the grass. Jordan watched it roll across the glade, bumping gently on the slightly uneven ground, and finally come to a halt less than a hundred meters from where they stood.
Brandon started running toward the rocketplane, but Jordan called to him, “No rush, Bran. Hazzard will wait till she cools down before popping the hatch.” Turning to Adri, he explained, “The plane will still be hot from its entry into the atmosphere.”
Adri nodded. “The air friction generates considerable heat, I suppose.”
Nodding back at him, Jordan thought, He understands physics. Or at least, aerodynamics.
He saw that Brandon was talking into his pocketphone.
“… outside, waiting for you to pop the hatch and come out,” Brandon was saying. Jordan thought his brother sounded impatient. As usual.
“Give us ten minutes.” Hazzard’s voice.
Brandon turned to Jordan and Adri, a big smile lighting his face. “Elyse is on board. She’s here.”
Jordan suppressed a chuckle. Bran wears his heart on his sleeve, he said to himself. Then he thought, Well, what have you been doing the past two days, old boy?
The hatch opened at last and the ship’s ladder extended to the grassy ground. Hazzard was the first one to appear in the hatchway. He hesitated a moment, looked around, then clambered down the ladder in an easy, long-legged jog.
Thornberry came next, then Meek, Longyear, and at last Elyse Rudaki. Brandon rushed to her, as Silvio de Falla and Thornberry’s assistant, Tanya Verishkova, followed down the ladder. Nara Yamaguchi, the last of them, blinked at the lip of the hatch, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight, then started down the ladder.
Thornberry eyed Jordan’s gown with an impish grin. “So you’ve gone native, have you?”
“It’s actually quite comfortable,” Jordan said.
Once all seven of them were standing beside the ship, Adri said in a surprisingly powerful voice, “Welcome to New Earth.”
Meek took one step forward and replied, “Thank you.” Turning slightly to the others, he said, “This is Adri, the, eh…” His face contorted into a puzzled frown. “Eh, just what is your title, sir?”
Adri smiled placatingly and said, “We don’t put much store in titles, I’m afraid. Just call me Adri.”
“But what do you do?” Meek insisted. “What is your job here, your position?”
Spreading his hands slightly, Adri replied, “My task at the moment is to welcome you to this world, and to offer you accommodations in our city.”
“Oh no!” Meek snapped. “No, no, I’m afraid we can’t accept such an invitation. We’re here to build our base of operations right here, at this location.”
Jordan stepped in. “It’s close enough to the city for easy visits back and forth.”
“I see,” said Adri. “I understand.”
“We appreciate your offer of hospitality,” Jordan went on. “In fact, I would like to remain in your city for at least a little longer.”
Brandon smirked at his brother. “Now why am I not surprised at that?” he murmured.
Hazzard strode up. “The second rocketplane’s due in a few minutes. I’ll control it remotely from the bird we came in on.” And he turned and trotted back toward the plane he had piloted.
Base Camp
Thornberry stood in the late-afternoon sunshine, his beefy arms folded across his chest, a satisfied smile on his face. Four large hemispherical shelters stood on the grassy glade, eggshell white, interconnected by metal mesh walkways laid across the grass. A half-dozen humanform robots had erected the bubble tents, and were now busily transferring equipment and supplies from the rocketplanes to the bubble tents’ interiors.
Jordan and Adri stood with Thornberry while most of the other humans carried their personal effects into the shelters. They look like a column of worker ants, Jordan thought, intently busy. He noticed that Brandon and Elyse Rudaki walked together, their arms loaded with packages.
At least Bran will have some clean clothes, Jordan thought. He won’t have to wash his underwear and socks in the bathroom sink anymore.
“We’ll be able to live and work here indefinitely,” Thornberry was telling Adri, “with resupplies from the ship, up in orbit.”
“Your ship produces food for you?” Adri asked.
Nodding vigorously, Thornberry said, “Fruits and vegetables from hydroponics tanks, meatstuffs cultured from the biovats.”
“We have extensive farms,” said the alien. “Perhaps we could provide you with a wider variety of vegetable products, if you like. Meat, as well.”
Thornberry glanced toward Meek, who was leading a robot laden with a heavy crate of equipment. “Perhaps later on,” he said. “For now, our mission plan calls for us to stay independent of indigenous potential foodstuffs.”
“I see. Of course.”
“And we’ll be making virtually zero impact on the local environment,” Thornberry added, with some pride in his voice. “All our systems are closed-loop. We recycle practically everything.”
Jordan watched Adri’s spiderwebbed face, wondering if Thornberry’s virtual and practically registered with him.
Meek came gangling up to them. “Well, we’re almost finished. Our prime base is just about ready for occupation.”