The rest of the team was looking at Chan, waiting for him to explain to the aliens why their presence ashore would be a bad idea. He decided to save his breath. Vow-of-Silence and Eager Seeker would listen politely to whatever he might choose to say, then do exactly what they wanted. On an issue like this there was no chance that they would change their minds.
Chan nodded to Vow-of-Silence. “The shore party will be pleased to have your assistance. However, you must be prepared to leave the ship in three hours. The party will need plenty of daylight hours ashore.”
Deb, Tarbush, Chrissie and Danny were staring at him in disgust and disappointment. He said to them, “I need to work out some practical details with just the four of you. Can we get together right now, in my cabin?”
Giving no time for argument, Chan stood up and led the way out. He headed along the main axis of the ship to his cabin — and past it. Where the corridor widened, Deb Bisson moved to his side.
“I thought you said in your cabin?”
Chan put his finger to his lips. Deb got the message, and did not speak again. Finally they reached the door of bilious green, and passed through into Dag Korin’s spartan quarters.
The room was empty. Chan motioned the others inside and closed the door. “We can talk freely here. This is one place — the only place on the ship, according to the General — where we definitely can’t be overheard by the ship’s computer. Remember that when you leave. Anything the computer hears, the aliens can find out about.
“I want to set a few things straight. You probably guessed why I won’t be going with you. It’s because Dag Korin won’t let me, and he’s officially in charge.” Chan held up a hand to cut off the protests. “Yes, he is. And you can’t have more than one person running things. So unless you want to start a mutiny, Korin has final say. Now I’m going to tell you one order he gave me to pass on to the shore party, something that can’t ever be mentioned outside this room. I know you’re all pleased to be going, but don’t kid yourselves. It will be dangerous. So Korin’s order to you — and my order, too — is simple: your first responsibility is to survive. You do whatever it takes to make sure of that. Remember, if you don’t survive, you can’t report back with whatever you find. If you’re attacked, defend yourselves. Don’t worry about justifying what you do, just do it. Let the Pipe-Rillas and the Tinkers yell and scream as much as they like about peaceful solutions, we’ll worry about that problem when you come back. But make sure you come back. Any questions?”
“Yes.” Tarbush Hanson was frowning. “If Korin is in charge, like you say, why are you and he letting the aliens go ashore? They may be useful, but more likely they’ll just be a pain in the ass.”
“That’s probably true, and you’ll have to live with it. I said it wrong before. Dag Korin is in charge of the humans on board this ship. Neither he nor I can control what the aliens do — much as we would like to. Anything else?”
“Two and two, like in the old days?” Danny Casement spread his arms wide. “You know, divide and conquer. That way only one group is stuck with the aliens.”
“If you can work it. You with Deb, Chrissie with Tarbush. I’d suggest that you have one forward pair and one covering, but that will be up to you. Handle it whatever way seems best when you get there. Anything else that can’t be said where it will be overheard?”
The others looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Right, then. Go and get ready. I wasn’t kidding when I told the aliens to be ready in three hours. You don’t want to arrive ashore when it’s almost dark.”
Danny, Chrissie, and Tarbush headed for the door and left, but Deb Bisson hung back.
“When I couldn’t find you last night,” she said, “I thought it was because you had decided that you were going and I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“No, you don’t. It’s nothing compared with the one that I’ve owed you for all those years. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Promise you won’t try to be a hero. And promise you’ll come back.”
“That’s two things.” But Deb was smiling. “I’ll do my best, Chan. And you, you’d better not hide away again when I do. Otherwise you’ll have more trouble on your hands than you’ll ever get from any alien.”
26: THE BEST-LAID PLANS
The preparations for the shore expedition had gone as smoothly as anyone could wish. Deb Bisson, wading cautiously out of the shallows and across a forty-meter strip of pebbles, was not about to let early success lull her into a feeling of security. Fortune was a fickle god and a random event; good luck could change in a moment to bad.
That didn’t mean, though, that you couldn’t improve the odds. Deb hurried across a layer of slimy brown plants and into a waist-high thicket of bristly cruciform reeds that snapped as she pushed them aside. She crouched there for five minutes, helmet closed, looking about her in all directions but especially to her right. A hundred yards that way lay the beginning of the “zone of destruction,” and if trouble was coming it was most likely to arrive from there.
Finally she raised her arm and waved. The others had been watching for her signal, their helmets close to the waterline. Chrissie, Danny and Tarbush reacted at once, coming ashore fast and willing to make a lot of splashing to gain a second or two.
The Stellar Group aliens were not in such a hurry. Deb, as unofficial leader of the shore team, cursed Vow-of-Silence’s leisurely progress out of the water. The Pipe-Rilla was craning up to her full height, turning from side to side and examining the scene. It was one step short of waving a flag to announce your arrival. Eager Seeker was even worse. Tinker components were vanishing, flying off in all directions. If the land aliens monitored the region beyond the edge of the zone of destruction …
Chrissie was the first to reach Deb’s side. “Helmets open?” she said.
“Might as well. One at a time, though, just in case.”
“Me first, then.” Chrissie opened her visor just as Danny and Tarbush, carrying the heaviest supply case between them, flopped down panting at her side. She sniffed the air, cautiously at first and then in bigger breaths. “Ah!”
“All right?”
“You’ve no idea. Inside the Hero’s Return I never felt like I was on a planet at all. This is air. Try it.”
Deb glanced at the beach. Vow-of-Silence was like a four-meter flagpole, making a slow and stately approach. More Tinker components had disappeared, flying into the nearby undergrowth. Now that they were all ashore, they had to see how well they could survive here.
She opened her own helmet, closed her eyes, and sniffed. The air made her nostrils tingle, and it carried an odor that made her feel slightly dizzy.
No, that wasn’t the result of the smell in the air. It was the air itself, slightly richer, slightly higher in oxygen content. It was quite safe to breathe, according to the samples that Bony Rombelle and Liddy Morse had brought back. But it was just as well to lie low for a while and let their bodies become used to the changes. The difference in air and gravity between Earth and Limbo was less than the difference between, say, Earth and Europa, and humans made that adaptation easily enough. But they didn’t have to do it in a few minutes.
Danny Casement and Tarbush Hanson were following the women’s lead, opening their helmets and sniffing the air.
“Put all the supplies down here,” Deb said. “This is as good a place as any for our preliminary base. If you take your suits off, fold them neatly. We might have to get into them in a hurry.”
Danny, who with Tarbush had laid the massive supply case carefully on a cleared area, paused and turned up his nose at her. “Did you ever know me to do anything that wasn’t neat? If we do take our suits off, I suggest we make sure we close the helmets, too. How would you like to find one of these inside yours when you came to put it on again?”