“With respect, although as a composite you possess superior reasoning powers, your separate components are not capable of thought or intelligible discourse.” Vow-of-Silence began to stand up. “It is far better if I go.”
“With respect, we must disagree.”
Deb suddenly understood what the argument was really about. “No one should go until we’ve learned a lot more,” she said, “and I’ll tell you why. You’re both hoping to have first contact with a new species. Well, we humans are just as keen for that. But if it is Friday Indigo inside the encampment, you’re too late. And if it isn’t Friday Indigo, we have no evidence that whoever lives in that encampment would accept any offer of our friendship.”
The Tinker Composite did not speak, but sagged a foot lower. The flutter of component wings ended. Vow-of-Silence crouched low, and stared at Deb. For once the Pipe-Rilla lived up to her name.
“I’m as eager to meet the aliens as any of you,” Deb said, “but we’ll only do it when we know it’s safe. And if it’s not Friday Indigo over in the encampment, we all go to meet the aliens together. That way there will be no arguments about first contact. Agreed?”
No one spoke, and Deb went on, “So here’s what I propose. I’ll snake through the vegetation, keeping low, until I can get a closer look at the encampment. No matter what I see, I won’t make any attempt at contact — that’s a promise. I’ll return here, tell you what I’ve seen, and we’ll decide what we want to do next. Everyone in agreement?”
“No.” The objection came not from Vow-of-Silence, or Eager Seeker. It was Chrissie Winger who was shaking her head. “You’re the leader of the shore party, even if you don’t think so. That means we normally do what you say.”
“So do what I say now.”
“Wait a minute. The team leader ought not to be an advance scout, because you may have to make tough decisions back here. Suppose you get into trouble, what do the rest of us do? So somebody else ought to go take the look-see. I propose that Tarb and me do it.” Chrissie held up a hand, because Deb’s mouth was opening. “The two of us have been sitting on our hands for weeks, waiting to find something to do—”
“We all have,” said Danny.
“ — something that fits in with our special skills. Now, you Danny, you can charm the leg off a chair, but that’s not what we need at the moment. You can’t charm an alien until you can talk to one. And you, Deb, you’re a weapons master, and your special skill is fighting.” That produced a groan from Vow-of-Silence and a hiss from Eager Seeker. Chrissie went on, speaking fast. “We’re not allowed to fight. But Tarb, on the other hand, he can read a person or an animal’s intentions without them saying a word. And he’s stronger than anyone I know. As for me, my specialty is deception. Call it magic if you like, call it trickery, call it sleight of hand — but it works. He and I make a good team.”
“Fine. You and Tarb can be the scouts.”
“We’ve been working together for years, in all kinds of situations. Whatever one of us does, the other can back up and support—”
Chrissie broke off as Tarbush Hanson gripped her arm.
“Not another word, Chrissie,” he said gently. “Weren’t you listening? Deb already agreed.”
“She did?”
“I said you could be the advance scouts.” Deb spoke fast, before the Stellar Group aliens could question her decision. “But you’ll follow certain rules.”
“No violence,” Vow-of-Silence said immediately. “No m-murder or fighting.”
“That’s one rule. I have others. You go wearing your suits — including helmets. I know that’s a pain, but it’s better than bites or stings that could be lethal. If there’s any trouble, even a suspicion of trouble, you turn and head back. Don’t use your suit radios. That’s too dangerous. If whatever is in the camp can detect our frequencies, they’ll use the signal to home in on us. We’ll be watching as best we can with the periscope, and that will have to do.”
“Suits, safety first, no signals.” Tarb nodded his bullet head. “Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes. No matter what you see, or what you hear, or what you think, you don’t take risks. I need you here in plenty of time for us to decide where we’ll spend the night, ashore or back on the Hero’s Return.”
“No problem. We’re on our way.”
“You and Chrissie. Not that fat ferret.” Deb held out a hand. “Give her to me.”
“What makes you think I have Scruffy with me?” Tarbush put a fierce scowl on his big black face and tried to stare Deb down. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Oh, be reasonable, Deb, she goes everywhere I do.”
“You mean almost everywhere. I’m being more than reasonable. Come on, Tarb. Hand her over.”
Tarbush opened a bulky suit pocket and reluctantly extracted the ferret. He placed her on the ground, stroked his modded pet’s sleek and bulging head, and bent to whisper something. Scruffy waddled over to Danny Casement and sat down placidly at his side.
“Look after her, Danny,” Tarb said, “she’s yours if I don’t come back. She’ll do whatever you and Deb tell her.”
“You’ll come back. You’d better.” Danny picked up the ferret awkwardly and gave the pet a critical inspection. “I sure as hell don’t want to be saddled with her. I bet she has fleas and worms. Sterilization—”
Tarbush Hanson was a very tall man. He seemed to grow another six inches. “If you dare—”
“Stop that, Danny,” Chrissie said. “You can’t make jokes on some subjects, they’re sacred.” She took Tarb’s arm and pulled him toward the spiny bushes. “Come on, animal-man. Let’s go — before you two start a testosterone fight.”
Chrissie was short and slim and about half the weight of Tarbush Hanson. She was better able to seek out clear patches ahead, and after a few steps he was content to fall in behind her.
For years, both of them had encountered only the plants growing in formal gardens of the Outer System colonies. It had been much longer than that since either of them had walked through a forest or meadow of Earth. Chrissie, pushing ahead, had to keep reminding herself that it was normal for plant life to be so vigorous — so competitive. It seemed that in every square centimeter where something could grow, something did. No matter how careful you were in placing your feet, a plant or animal down there got squashed. After the first five minutes she accepted that as inevitable, stopped looking down with every step, and kept her head up to find and take the line of least resistance.
There was one exception to that rule: wherever the fronded vegetation tops were in windless waves of motion, she stayed well clear.
Now and again she lifted her head, to stare at the super-bright sky. What she wanted to see was the ghostly spheres that everyone talked about, but the blazing sun made that impossible.
“Careful!” Tarbush said from behind, and grabbed her shoulders. Chrissie brought her attention back to ground level. A body-thick stripe of lurid green crossed her path at waist level. Two more steps, and she would have walked into it.
No problem? Maybe — except that the strip glistened , and attached to it she saw the bodies of half a dozen different creatures in various stages of digestion. Not all of them were as small as the dark-red millipede that Danny had picked up. The biggest was long, thick-built and legless, and it probably massed half as much as Chrissie. It was still alive, and wriggling feebly.