"Yes, we were prepared," Gorruk interrupted. "We intercepted and destroyed the alien invaders before they came close enough to attack."
"But who were they, General?" Jook asked. "How come they to fly between the stars? Were they the same race that attacked out planet four hundred years ago? Who knows? But we should pay heed to Et Kalass' s activities. Our noble friends have even gone to the expense of funding a expedition to Genellan."
"I have heard of this alien mystery ship!" Gorruk said. "A waste of time and money. Even if true—which I doubt—any alien ship-wrecked on that ice planet is long dead. We can ill afford to expend energy sniffing about for alien bones. We have a war to plan and execute."
"Where is your curiosity, General?" Jook asked.
"I am a soldier.. not a scientist," Gorruk answered.
"Nevertheless, General," Jook said, "Old Kalass is up to something. I desire you to watch our good minister's actions. Let us not discount Genellan too readily. Perhaps, just perhaps, there is something there. It would be wise to have an agent on the scene. You can do something, can you not?"
"I always send the best," Gorruk snarled.
Chapter 19. Exploration
"Everyone's talking about your argument, Sharl," Hudson said, plopping down next to her on the lake beach. "You went thermal."
"Damned difficult to have a confidential discussion around here," she replied.
"Sorry I butted in, but we heard you yelling and thought you were in trouble. You were about as confidential as a collision alarm."
"Sound carries up in those rocks," she said.
"Particularly swear words," Hudson mumbled.
"I got pretty cranked up, eh?" She laughed. "Well, I'm not sorry."
"The commander looked angry. Very angry."
"He'll get over it," she said, her smile fading. "I had to get him to stop moping about his wife. To start making decisions. And if he wasn't going to start exploring for a better place to settle, then I sure as shit was. MacArthur says there's a valley down the river that has everything we need, and MacArthur knows what he's talking about. This plateau is going to be frozen hell in less than three months."
"Everyone's with you, Sharl. They know you're right," Hudson said, "but nuking the commander sure made them nervous. Thought Shannon was going to wet his skivvies when you ordered both of them on patrol."
She chuckled and lay backwards, stretching out in the firm sand. A fleet of wooly clouds passed in review, highlighting the dark clarity of the stark blueness. Two stars twinkled dimly at the zenith. Unseen, a jumping fish made a noise like a hollow barrel being thumped. A flock of tiny gray birds, common now with the maturing summer, flitted low over the shore, swerving to avoid the earthlings. A flower moaned somewhere.
"I wonder if it will make any difference?" she said presently. "What? Shannon wetting his—?" Hudson turned to face her. "This planet's longer day and year. Will we live longer, too?" "Why should that make any difference?" Hudson answered, bending over to pick up another rock.
"Why not?" Buccari mused. "Our bodies might adjust to the daily and annual cycles. Our bodies may choose to live the same number of days, or maybe the same number of winters. That could mean we might live ten or twenty percent longer in absolute time."
"Nice dream, but I don't think so," Hudson replied, walking to the water's edge. "The body won't know the difference."
"I'm not so sure. It may take a few generations to make a difference. If nothing else, we're sleeping the same six to eight hours every day, so we get an extra two point two three hours of waking time. The percentage of time we sleep has gone down."
Hudson contemplated her logic. "You might have a point, Sharl. But I bet we have to pay it back somehow. You don't get something for nothing."
"Even the months are longer," Buccari remarked, "assuming you use the big moon as the reference. It takes thirty-two days between full moons."
"Actually the little moon might be more convenient," Hudson said, throwing the rock into the lake. "Takes fourteen days to cycle. We double the period and have a twenty-eight day moon month just like on Earth. Whatever, it's sure nice to have long summer days."
"Let's see how we feel after spending a winter here. A winter like we've never seen. We need to get off this plateau."
The patrol halted at the rise next to the cliff edge. MacArthur wiped perspiration from his forehead and looked up to see cliff dwellers soaring across the cloudless sky. Two creatures glided much lower than the others. He slipped off his pack, unzipped a side pocket, and pulled out a small notebook.
"Now what do we do?" Petit asked.
"We leave this," MacArthur said. "Gotta' find the mailbox." "Let me see the book, corporal," Quinn ordered.
"Yes, sir," MacArthur said as he handed it over. He watched the commander carefully. The skipper had been moody since leaving the camp. "Lieutenant Buccari and Mr. Hudson did a really good job, sir."
"Looks like a comic book," Petit said, looking over Quinn's shoulder.
"From the mouth of an expert." MacArthur laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Petit snarled.
"Just a joke," MacArthur said, smiling.
"Why ain't I laugh—?"
"Cut it out, you two," Shannon ordered, walking back from the plateau's edge. Shannon's moodiness since leaving camp had been no less heavy than the commander's.
"That's about what it is—a comic book," Quinn said, breaking the tension. "Lieutenant Buccari doesn't think we'll ever be able to speak their language, or they ours, so she prepared this notebook of icons and cartoons as a first step in communications."
"It looks like they aren't accepting deliveries," Shannon remarked.
"Lieutenant Buccari said we should put up a cairn of rocks, seal the book in a utility pouch, and leave it," MacArthur said. "What do you think, Commander?"
"Do it," Quinn replied, handing the book back. "Let's get going. I'm anxious to see this valley you and Chastain keep talking about."
Their task completed, the patrol moved along the jumbled cliffside, stopping to fill their canteens in the river.
"Trail starts over here," MacArthur said, looking out over the dizzy traverse. The river crashed over the precipice behind them. They descended the narrow ledge, hugging the cliff wall for the rest of the day. At last the trail flattened and mercifully turned away from the river gorge, providing a place to make camp. In the twilight MacArthur looked out across the plains to the twin volcanoes in the distance, still far below his elevation.
Morning came quickly and was pleasantly warmer than the frosty plateau mornings, promising a hot day. After a long morning of dusty, downhill hiking, the patrol came to a thinly forested tree line; there the trail switched back to the northwest, descending sharply to the river. MacArthur noticed a narrow valley on the opposite bank. Below them the powerful watercourse jogged sharply to the north, necking down to a turbulent constriction.
"Chastain and I intercepted the trail up higher," he said, relaxing in the sparse shade of some firs. "I haven't seen any of this."
"Options?" Quinn asked, looking down the steep trail.
"The valley is three days from here, downstream," MacArthur said. "If we stay high, it's downhill all the way. If we go down this trail to the river, we'll have some serious climbing later on."
"What do you think, Sergeant?" Quinn asked. "Do we follow this path and see if it tells us anything, or do we head for MacArthur' s valley?"