She heard him, but said nothing. He decided that the ice had to be broken, lest one or both of them fall over exhausted. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.
“Like I was at the bottom of an elevator shaft when the car crashed down on top of me,” she responded in a little louder tone, sounding less than friendly. “I guess I’m not like the macho men of the military, who don’t need sleep or armor or food or anything.”
“Come on over here, away from the others,” he invited. “Just to talk without having them be as miserable as we are. If nothing else, we should get this guard business sorted out before we have reason to shoot somebody or something.”
She couldn’t argue with that, so she followed him perhaps ten meters from the sleepers, a bit inside the grove. The insect noises were still pretty loud, but either they’d died down some or the interlopers were getting accustomed to them.
“Sit down,” he suggested, trying to sound as friendly and nonthreatening as possible. “We don’t have to be uncomfortable yet. If we take turns, at least we won’t wear ourselves out early. That thunderstorm took a lot out of us.”
She did sink down, back against a tree, but said nothing. “You take a pain pill with a stim?” he asked her.
“I took the stim. Maybe you’re right on the pain. I used to go fifteen kilometers with a full pack in the workout rooms, but this is already more tiring.”
“Gravity does it.”
“There was gravity on the ship.”
“True,” he agreed, “but it’s a standardized gravity, just eighty percent of one universal gee unit. That’s been found to be the most comfortable with the least complications for long, cramped voyages. Air pressure is a stock one point seven five kilometers, humidity’s forty percent, air is just exactly so, and it’s always that way. Your body gets used to it. Now, suddenly, we’re on a world that’s at least one standard gee pressure at sea level, with the air extra-dense from eighty to ninety percent or more humidity and a temperature that’s hotter than we’ve been in in quite some time, even this late at night. We’re all feeling it. Even N’Gana is feeling it, probably more than any of us. He’s at least ten years older than any of us.”
“He looks pretty spry to me. So do the rest of you.”
“It was said long ago, in ancient times, by some ancient soldier maybe just back from walking half a world and fighting the whole way, that the trick wasn’t not to feel pain, exhaustion, and all the other ailments. The trick was not to show it, particularly to those below you in rank. I think maybe Mogutu’s probably in the best shape of any of us, and I can tell by how he reacted and how he’s moving that he’s feeling it, too.”
“Then—we’re never going to make it! If it’s this bad now…”
“We’ll make it. It won’t get much easier, but, after a while, it won’t seem to get any worse, either. If we have the willpower to stick out the walk all the way, then by the time we really need to be in top trim, we will be. At least, that’s the theory. Who knows what’s in this brush that might be out to get us?”
“I thought there weren’t any large animals left ”
“There aren’t, or so the good father assures us. But something out here is dangerous—bet on it. Maybe even our own people. And don’t put down plants or insects, either. Some of them can be real killers.”
“Thanks a lot,” she responded sourly. “You’ve given me a lot more confidence.”
“Listen, the biggest threat I can think of right now, assuming nobody knows we’re here, is accidents. Stepping off a ledge, even just off a little path that could twist or break an ankle or snap a ligament. Those more than anything get you.”
“What happens if that does happen? If one of us can’t walk or something?”
“If it can’t be repaired and they can’t keep up, they’ll be left in place with as much provisions and care as we can manage. It’s like the colonel said—no matter how much we suffer, we’re doing this for whole worlds of people. Men, women, children, even furry snakes with tentacles.” He looked around in the darkness. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time one of us made the rounds. I’ll do it first—I have the experience in this. I’m just going to walk completely around the camp at maybe ten, fifteen meters out—a slow circle from here to here around them.”
“What are you looking for?” she asked him.
“Anything unusual. I know that sounds idiotic since we’re on an alien planet, but it’s the best I can do. Always trust your senses and your instincts. If something feels odd or wrong, it probably is. You’re picking up something on a subconscious level, but it’s a survival trait handed down from our ancient ape ancestors no matter what Chicanis says. Just stay here and don’t go to sleep. Just watch and listen, that’s all. I’ll be back shortly, so don’t get so nervous you shoot a hole in me, okay?”
“I—I don’t think I could if I tried,” she answered, but she understood what he meant.
It was an eerie walk, through territory not scouted by daylight first, but he tried to keep the circle manageable, listen and smell as much as look, and to not get himself lost in the portion that was in the grass.
Insects were occasionally biting any skin he had exposed. No worry about alien microorganisms; there had never been one ever discovered that could infect a human, and vice versa. More dangerous in a situation like this were good old-fashioned human viruses and bacteria inevitably imported with the colonists from the first. Those had been known to mutate wildly and evolve in all sorts of bizarre directions in alien environments, and there was no way to inoculate or even breed people to withstand things you hadn’t been able to get samples of for a hundred years.
When he came back around and headed toward her once more, his only impression of the area was that it stank. There was the smell of rotten dead vegetable matter and a kind of excrement-like swamp odor that seemed to permeate the grassland. It hadn’t gotten any better.
“It’s just me,” he called in a loud whisper. “No problems.”
“What’s the password?” she responded in a similar whisper.
He stopped short. “Password? We didn’t say anything about a password!”
“That’s the right password,” she responded, sounding a lot friendlier. “Come on in.”
He went back to the tree and saw that she was standing now. “I started to nod off,” she told him. “I had to stand up.
He understood, but cautioned, “Better stay off your feet while you can in any case. You’ll be on them long enough come daylight.”
“I’m also itching like mad,” she told him. “I don’t know what it is. Either some of these little biters got into my clothes or something else is happening.”
“I’ve got the itches myself,” he said. “I started feeling it when I woke up, but it might have been before. I wonder what material this stuff’s made of?”
“Huh? I dunno. It seems tough and weatherproof enough.”
“It’s designed to be,” he said, “but who knows what the conditions are here now?” He sank down on the ground.
“Huh? There were people here in big cities and bigger farms and factories and such for a couple hundred years. I’d say that Father Chicanis would know if there were any funny things like that.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Helena before the Fall. This is still tropical and still lush, but it’s not the same place Chicanis left. It’s been modified by the Titans. You kind of wonder about that rain. I didn’t itch like this the past two days, only since getting soaked.”