"You're a Guild man, you've dealt with alien life forms before--"
"The Guild doesn't deal with intelligent aliens. That's X-Tee Patrol business. We don't land on any planet with unknown intelligent life forms. Why should we court trouble--couldn't run a safari in under those conditions. X-Tee certified Jumala as a wild world, our survey confirmed that."
"Someone or something landed here after you left?"
"I don't believe so. This is too well organized an action. And since we have a satellite guard in space, any ship landing would be taped and recorded. No such record appeared on the Guild screens. One small spacer--such as Wass'--could slip through by knowing procedure--just as he did. But to land all those beasts and equipment they'd need a regular transport. No--this must be native." Hume leaned forward again, flipped a switch.
A small red light answered on the central board.
So they wouldn't end up smeared against some cliff face anyway. Which was only small comfort amid terrifying possibilities.
Hume had taken the precaution just in time. The light blinked faster, and the speed of the flyer was checked as the automatic control triggered by the warn-off came into command. Hume's hands were still on the board, but a system of relays put safety devices into action with a speed past that which a human pilot could initiate.
They were descending and had to accept that, since the warn-off, operating for the sake of the passengers, had ruled that move best. The directive would glide the flitter to the best available landing. It was only moments before the shock gear did touch surface. Then the engine was silent.
Hume consulted his planet-time watch in the light of the cabin.
"We have about an hour until dawn--if dawn arrives here at the same time it does in the plains. I don't propose to go out blindly in the dark."
Which made sense. Except that to sit here, quietly, in their cramped quarters, not knowing what might be waiting outside, was an ordeal Vye found increasingly harder to bear. Maybe Hume guessed his discomfort, maybe he was following routine procedure. But he turned, thumbed open one of the side panels in Vye's compartment, and dug out the emergency supplies.
They sorted the crash rations into small packs. A blanket of the water-resistant, feather-heavy Ozakian spider silk was cut into a protective covering for Vye. That piece of tailoring occupied them until the graying sky permitted them a full picture of the pocket in which the flitter had landed. The dark foliage of the mountain growth was broken here by a ledge of dark-blue stone on which the flyer rested.