Meanwhile, furs and scarves and quilted fabric brushed by her and she wondered that people didn't singe themselves on the hot stove as they wished Charlie Demintieff farewell. Yana's debilitated lungs labored harder as the room filled, the lack of oxygen smothering her. She began deliberately taking deep breaths as first one and then another of Charlie's friends and distant relations stepped up to crowd around him near the stove, envelop him in a furry hug, and step back away to make room for the next person. Yana couldn't imagine having so much family.
Clodagh stood among them, not as tall as some of the men but distinguishing herself by the space around her. Her hair, Yana noticed, was quite beautiful, cloaking her shoulders in shining black waves, the black of a hue that somehow was not too harsh with the woman's fair skin. Her cheeks were pink with the heat now and she was perspiring freely, glowing like some benevolent "un. She didn't appear to be as old as Yana, and yet she effortlessly carried an air of the kind of authority generally conferred only by well-seasoned maturity.
Just as Yana thought she was going to have to fight her way through the crowd for air or black out, people began filing back out the door with last good-byes for Charlie, and suddenly it was the four of them again, Clodagh, Charlie, Bunny, and Yana.
"We have to hurry," Bunny told the dejected-looking young officer. "1 need to drop the major and get you back."
"Okay," he said.
Clodagh put something in his hand with a soft pat before he pulled on his mittens. As they were leaving she said, "Major Maddock, will you come to supper tonight with Bunka?"
Yana nodded and waved, and turned back toward the path between the houses to face four excitedly yapping dogs strapped to a low sled.
"Climb in, Major," Bunny said.
"You're kidding. There's not room for all of us."
"You ride, and Charlie can drive. I'll run along beside," Bunny said, "just as far as your place."
Yana looked at the low, insubstantial-looking sled and the four wriggling, whimpering dogs, who were having their pointed red ears and muzzles scratched by a kneeling, sad-faced Charlie Demintieff. Their faces looked more like those of foxes or cats than those of the dogs Yana had seen pictured. Their coats were very thick and their legs fairly long and muscular, but their paws were covered in little booties. Every time one of them could get close enough to lick at Demintieff, it did.
"How far is my place, anyway?" Yana asked. She had not formed an impression of any vast distances within this town; on the contrary, the snocle rides had been brief.
"Just down the road," Bunny said gesturing. "But you're not used to the cold and…"
"And I'm an invalid?" Yana asked, hitching her muffler up higher on her nose. "The dying woman, eh? Not dead yet, Rourke. Not by a long shot. You take Charlie back-and Charlie?"
"Dama?"
"Don't forget to look up Master Sergeant Threadgill and tell him what I told you."
Charlie nodded once, briefly, his chin set. Bunny tumbled into the sled and settled herself for transport while Charlie, one last time, whistled to his dogs, who obediently trotted off toward the company station.
Yana sighed, sending a plume of her breath up against the crisp blue sky, and began trudging in her heavy gear in the direction of her new quarters. Damn Giancarlo anyway. If he wanted her to spy for him, did he have to start off by doing something that, if the truth were known, would alienate the whole village from her? Of course, there was always the possibility that he, like Yana, had had no idea that Demintieff was one local boy who happened to be stationed close to home because he wished to be. But Giancarlo should have known before he went off half-cocked. If this assignment had any significance at all, he definitely should have had Demintieff checked before he decided to replace him. That kind of rashness could blow this mission.
Mission? This was supposed to be her new life! Not that it looked as if it was apt to amount to much. She ought to thank Giancarlo for giving her something to occupy her mind, to keep from going nuts here on this ice ball.
Feathers of smoke curled up from the houses; if there were any shops or supply stores, they were indistinguishable from the dwellings as far as she could see. Each step in her bulky primitive clothing was like walking in heavy gravity. She couldn't bend her head easily to see the path before her, or her muffler would fall down and her hood ride back on her head. But by turning her head slightly, she saw that many of the houses contained kennels full of dogs and had mysterious-looking lumps out front just like the ones she had seen in Clodagh's yard. Two of the larger places had not only houses but outbuildings, and in one of the yards two horses were zigzagging back and forth in the snow. Yana thought (here was something strange about the horses, but she couldn't quite decide what. Never mind. She'd return to her quarters and read the briefing. She needed to find out what was regular about I his place before she could determine what was irregular.
She made it to her door with only one slight mishap, when "h‹- slipped once more on the ice and had to recover from a coughing fit before rising. She hadn't hurt herself seriously otherwise. How could she, with so many layers of clothing? A passerby-impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman in those wrappings, but the person was short-stopped and waited for her toughing fit to abate, then gave her a hand up. She felt like a bloody baby, and wanted to slap the person's hand away, but as soon as she was on her feet the person said in a muffled voice, "You got to walk a little duck footed when it's slick like this."
She watched the person waddle away; then, feeling sillier than ever, she fell into a waddle gait until she reached her own door, the last one on the row.
Something bright flashed ahead of her as she opened the door, and she stiffened, until she heard a thud from the direction of the table and beheld one of the orange cats sitting upon it, nonchalantly cleaning the snow from furry paw pads.
To her relief, the log she had left burning in the stove earlier that morning was glowing coals. She wasn't sure how long such primitive material was supposed to last, but she had the impression it needed refurbishing frequently. She stripped off coat, gloves, muffler, and coverall and sat down on the chair in her uniform. She had best strip off the insignia. She sighed. That would be admitting to her present status. Whatever. She wondered what she would do for clothing here when her uniforms wore out. She had no other kind of clothing, having been shipside most of her life. Considering the assorted outerwear she had seen in Clodagh's, perhaps the locals had indigenous sources and supplies. She would have to ask Bunny where she got her furs. Meanwhile…
She spread the brief on the table, while the cat looked on inquisitively. The report contained a short history of Petaybee and its settlements, as well as maps showing the resource sites and the spots where the missing survey teams had last been seen.
Petaybee: third world from star XR798 in the Valdez system. The original evaluation team found no life forms, sentient or otherwise, on the planet: the rocky surface was largely frozen during most of the solar year. The Whittaker Effect was suggested as the best terraforming package for the planet and was inaugurated. Colonization was feasible, and procedures were initiated as the planet warmed. The only landmasses available were in the polar regions, where the climate was sub arctic, with a long extremely cold winter, temperatures frequently as low as or lower than -100 degrees F, summers barely two Terran months. Daylight is intense and almost constant during the summer, but dwindles rapidly into total darkness for most of the winter. Suitable colonists were chosen from ethnic groups accustomed to such conditions.