It was human, all right, although the figure was huge. The double set of clothing it wore made it seem even larger. That made Ethan think again of the coat he was wearing, designed for a much bigger man. That size man. He felt a little bit guilty.
At least September had snow goggles with him. The goggles gave him a faintly amphibious appearance. Ethan wondered if he looked as silly. Probably more so. If the man minded the intense chill he didn’t show it.
As he came closer the bloated feet explained themselves. Apparently September had ripped up one or two of the acceleration couches. The luron upholstery had been shaped into a pair of fat pads and strapped to his big dogs. It seemed the luron was sufficiently rough to give some purchase on the ice. Tough and long-lasting, the artificial material would not wear off no matter how rugged the surface. And the padding did more than just cushion his feet: it also put some crucial distance between them and the heat-sucking ice.
The improvised snow-shoes looked awkward, but as a method of temporary transportation it far exceeded sliding on one’s fundament.
Ethan took a closer look at the personage who’d saved or condemned them. Not exactly a giant, but damned large, bigger even than the recently deceased Kotabit. A good two meters up, broad in proportion.
He tried to take the other’s measure, failed, and was upset without immediately knowing why. After all, he wasn’t going to try and sell this guy anything. He took in the white hair, predator beak of a nose, and the incongruous gold earring. There was a deal of the old English lord about him, with a lot of Terran-Arabic. Bedouin stock, maybe.
September stopped, his breath coming in short heaves. A miniature fog-bank swirled about that scimitar proboscis. He extended a hand and grinned down at Ethan. The hand was sandwiched in between layers of torn seat-foam. Ethan stared at it.
“Not as good as those survival gloves you’ve got on, maybe, but it keeps a body warm… after a fashion. It’s hard to handle things, but then, I don’t expect to be doing much watch-making for a while.”
“That’s for sure.” Ethan grinned back and shook the hand. Or rather, allowed himself to be shaken by it. “You must be Skua September.”
“Better be,” the other replied, “or else someone badly fooled Mrs. September. Although she preferred a climate more on the toasty side.”
He stared over Ethan’s head into the distance. Slapping both hands together a couple of times, he blew intently between the layers of foam. His eyes never left the horizon while he spoke.
“How are you getting on, young feller? That was quite a swack you took. Couple of minutes there, I was afraid you weren’t going to come out of it. Be hard enough to rouse yourself here without piling a coma into the bargain.”
“Perchance to dream? No, a prolonged sleep certainly wouldn’t be a good idea, here,” Ethan agreed. “You’d never know quite when you finally froze. And I don’t want to miss that when it happens.”
September nodded. “Ought to be interesting at that. Wonder how a body’d freeze here. From the top down or the inside out?” He crossed arms and slapped opposite shoulders. “What do you know about this refrigerated habitat? I only took the standard general tourist mestape—language, highlights, so forth. So did the little fellow—Williams. I think he’ll be okay. Quiet. Not taciturn, just likes to keep to himself. And that unspeakable fermentation, Walther, can surely manage the local patois. Although I’d sooner remove his tongue before I’d let him do any translating. You?”
“Well I’m a salesman, and—”
September didn’t let him continue. “And so you’ve stuffed yourself as full of verbs and prepositional phrases and epiglottal stops as a grilled pepper! Excellent, young feller.”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s no more than anyone else in my position would have done. I also had a few general planetary recordings on native conditions—cultural stuff, flora and fauna, the like. Just business.”
“Or survival.” He gave Ethan a friendly pat on the back that made him cough even with thick padding to insulate the blow. “Fine foresight, lad. Exemplary! As of now, you’re in charge.”
“Huh?” Somehow Ethan got the feeling he’d missed an important paragraph or two in amongst the praise. “In charge of what?”
“Why, in charge of seeing our little party return safely to civilization, of course. Expedition’s got to have a leader. I hereby appoint myself your faithful deputy. When can we expect to come in sight of the nearest bar, commander?” Under the brows, there was a twinkle.
“Now wait a minute,” put in Ethan hastily. “I think you’ve formed some wrong ideas about me. I’m not the leader type. Anyway, what about you? You seem plenty competent. The way you handled that chap Kotabit—”
“Yes, well, that’s a nice ability to have certain times,” September agreed, studying his clumsy mittens, “but rather limited. Besides, he’s dead. That particular problem will not require further attention. Now, I have this tendency to get impatient with people and break heads when patting them would be more practical. Darned if I can figure out why, but they seem to feel threatened by me when I’ve but the kindest of intentions in mind.
“What is needed is a cool, reasonable hand experienced at working with people and changing quickly in unfamiliar situations without making folks feel threatened. Doesn’t it take all that to change in mid-pitch from one sales talk to another? Presence of mind and quick thought, lad.”
“Sure, but—”
“Persuasive without being overbearing. A diplomat.”
Ethan finally succeeded in stalling the unending enumeration of his virtues.
“Look, I’m not sure selling Poupée-de-Oui Scent No. 7 exactly qualifies me as a combination of Metternich and Amundsen.”
“But it’s helped you convince people that white is black and good for ’em. Here all you have do to is convince ’em white is white. Duck soup.”
“All right, all right. I accept.”
“Thought you would.”
“Only because you think it’s necessary. And only temporarily, mind.” He started fumbling with the catches on his jacket “Now as leader of this expedition, my first order, effective now, is that you put this suit on. It’s obviously built for someone constructed more along your lines. If there’s anything I despise, it’s waste, and I’m swimming in it.”
“Sorry, lad.” September put out a hand and halted the unsnapping. “You’re in charge, agreed. But this is still a free society, not a dictatorship. That means any decision ought to be ratified by a majority vote. Since you and I are the only ones present, it’s up to us. Well?”
“I vote for you to put this coat on.”
“And I vote for you to keep it. How much do you weigh?”
“Huh?” That was Ethan’s second use of that brilliant expletive in a few minutes. Ah, the dazzle of a rapier-sharp wit! He murmured a reply.
“I thought about that much,” said September. “You lose.”
“Look, you’ll make better use of it,” Ethan argued. “You’re more the explorer type than I am. I can manage without it.”
“No, you cannot manage without it,” September said sharply, not grinning. “And if this wind gets much worse,” he continued, turning into the rising breeze, “we’re all going to wish for a damnsight more in the way of clothes.”
“Besides, if I am more the ‘explorer type,’ as you claim, I should be able to stand the cold better than you.”
“You’re contradicting yourself,” Ethan pointed out.
“Don’t be obtuse when I’m being illogical. Anyhow, that Kotabit fella was wearing special thermal underwear. It’s a mite snug in a few wrong places, but it keeps me fairly comfortable with this double layer of top gear. That Walther has it on also, no doubt. He’s not as cold as he makes out to be.