"Thang yew, Sharl," Et Silmarn responded passably. "Yew have-ah done much." His prodigious arm lifted and swept over the construction, sausagelike fingers pointing at the main lodge. Stone walls and chimneys were capped by a sturdy rafter frame for a high-pitched roof. A corner section and a long run of the pine log palisade were in place, and a plot of vegetables flourished in dark green abundance. Chips of wood lay thick underfoot, and odors of pine resin and sawdust permeated the air. The humans had made their mark.
"We must prepare, Et Silmarn," she replied. "Winter is unforgiving."
Et Silmarn looked to Kateos for help. The female translated quickly.
"Yes! B-berry unfork-ah…even. Winner tooo cold-ah! It b-berry cold now!" The bulky alien clasped his own bulky shoulders, a universal gesture.
Buccari nodded, smiling inwardly, for it was a warm day. She turned to Hudson. "Welcome back—yet again, Nash. You must be getting used to the trip."
"The lodge looks terrific!" Hudson exclaimed.
"O'Toole and Fenstermacher are first rate carpenters, and MacArthur's friends have been a big help," Buccari replied cryptically, referring to the cliff dwellers. Buccari noticed Kateos's questioning expression.
Hudson quickly continued. "The trip's a grind, but they let me fly. It's a big, wild planet, Sharl. It's beautiful…." He paused, his expression speaking for itself.
"I envy you," Buccari said. "You'll have to take me up."
"You bet. The kones want us all to fly south. They're friendly, Sharl," he continued, "and Kateos will be speaking Legion better than you or me pretty soon. She's programming a voice recognition system that translates in real time. It doesn't work too well yet, but wait a few weeks." The konish female's face dropped demurely.
"She's an expert," Hudson continued. "She's asks questions about tenses, grammar, nouns, verbs, sentence structure— everything. It was good to have Chief Wilson along just to give her a new subject to study and give me a break from all the questions."
"I'll bet he taught her some choice words!" Fenstermacher joked.
"Watch it, Fensterman!" Wilson shouted. "Or I'll tell the Lieutenant not to let you go south." Wilson turned to Buccari. "Oh, man, Lieutenant, it's wonderful! Rains a bit, but the place is beautiful—turquoise-blue ocean with wide, sandy beaches. And islands with lagoons. Trees with fruit—we brought some back for the mess. To be honest, I'm looking forward to going back."
Buccari looked at the sun-burnished, unworried face, the clear hazel eyes beseeching permission to return with the kones—a powerful testimony to the allure of the south.
"We missed you, Chief," she said. "Go check out the lodge. Help Tookmanian decide how to lay out the galley—er, the kitchen."
Wilson's face flickered with disappointment as he moved away, taking the bulk of the chattering crew with him. Assisted by Chastain, the kones migrated to their campsite and set up their huge tents, leaving Shannon, Hudson, and Buccari standing alone.
"Hey, Sharl," Hudson said quietly. "Kateos started hitting me up for skinny on HLA drives. She and those two new guys really worked me over."
"What did you tell them?" she asked.
"Nothing worth knowing," Hudson snorted. "Give me a little credit. And watch out, they're recording everything. I mean, they're friendly, but they're damn serious about it."
She pondered the implications of Hudson's information. "Gunner sure wants to go back," Shannon said. "Must be nice there."
"It really is," Hudson said softly. "Chief Wilson has found a home. I practically had to tie him down to get him in the abat. You should see him walking bare-assed naked down those beaches, bald head sunburned and his gut hanging out. You know, Sharl, before we got out of the 'vette, Virgil Rhodes said Wilson would die on a tropical island. Gunner took him seriously. I think he's already picked out the island."
"Well, I'm not ready for him to die," Buccari said impatiently. "We need all hands working—maybe even you, Nash. Winter will be here before we know it, and I'm—we're going to be ready."
"Why not move everyone south?" Hudson asked. "Like the kones want."
Buccari remained silent. She looked past the camp, surveying the verdant valley with its clear lake and frothy waterfalls.
"Welcome back, Nash," she finally said. "Sarge, take Mr. Hudson down and show him what the boys have done." She grabbed Hudson's arm and gently pushed him down the path. Shannon led the way, and the two men headed for the new construction. Buccari followed for a few steps and then stopped. She stared again at the magnificent scenery, as if for the first time. Nagging doubts hectored her.
Hudson's unanswered question had struck a nerve. She thought of Commander Quinn's original reluctance to leave the plateau in favor of the valley prior to the first killing winter. Would they really have been better off in the valley? Or would they have just lasted a little longer, without the cliff dwellers close enough tosave them? Was this another verse of the same song? Should she order everyone south? Or should they persevere, continuing what they had started? Perhaps the coldness of the north was their best protection. Going south would only increase contact with the konish governments, and increased contact would inevitably cause problems. Of that, somehow, she was positive.
Decisions! Decisions! The frustration of leadership—the price of leadership. But Buccari had made up her mind. They would face winter in the valley, and they would be ready for the cold and deprivation. Maybe they would move to the warm and sunny south the next summer—maybe. Yet somehow the thought had no appeal; somehow it was important to stay near the cliff dwellers; somehow it was important to have them as an ally. Perhaps suffering through another winter would change her mind.
She walked over to the kones. Kateos brightened at her approach.
"The war on Kon continues, Sharl," she reported. "We cannotah tell anything new, but we are worried—worried about ourselves. No one knows what-ah to happen. We have not heard-ah what became of Et Avian, not-ah even if he live or died. Et Silmarn is, uh…concerned. He is like brother to Et Avian." Kateos's loquaciousness was unfettered with her increasing command of the human language.
Buccari pushed; perhaps there was something to be gained. "What is the war about, Kateos? What do they fight over?"
"Power. They fight-ah for power. As always." Kateos removed her helmet and leaned onto her forelimbs, putting her eyes at the same level as the eyes of the sitting human.
"Are many kones dying?" Buccari asked.
Kateos snuffled and nodded her head. "The reports are, uh…not clear, but it-ah appear that-ah many kones have died— millions."
"Millions! Is there no concern for loss of life?"
"Yess. Yess, but-ah only as…as one values fuel in rocket, or grain in silo. Our rulers not-ah concern for the masses. Unskilled kones—we call them trods—arenumbers, statistics—po… tential soldiers or laborers or workers," Kateos answered, a metallic note in her deep voice. "Huhsawn, ah… Hudd-sawn, has told-ah me much about your families and about freedom. Our evil system does not-ah permit these ideas."
"My world also has many problems," Buccari said.
"But look at-ah you!" Kateos said. "You—a tiny female—are officer and leader! Leader of warriors. And Huh. Hudd-sawn says that-ah you are space pilot. That can never, never happen among konish female."
"Perhaps I am not a good example."
"Good example or not-ah, you have reached status of which konish females cannot even dream," Kateos said with a forlorn tone. "And your race has traveled across space—a, uh.. miraculous, yes?. a miraculous thing to travel the stars."