"Yeah. Remind me to thank Moya--immediately after I write him up for leaving his station."
"Well, now, the way I got it--and I believe the recorder will bear me out--is that you requested a witness. You left it up to the skipper to make the selection."
"And, by the way, Moya said he'd look in on you after a bit. The thing to do now is rest."
"Damnation! I'm not going anywhere. I just want to look over that pant's leg."
The trouble was that he looked me straight in the eye. It takes practice to lie convincingly. And the Space Academy doesn't list the Art of Prevarication among its curricula.
"That misbegotten little son of an Aztec! He went back down, didn't he?"
The medic flexed his muscles and said: "I can't take the responsibility--"
"When are you people going to get it through your stubborn heads that the responsibility for this whole shebang is mine and mine alone?"
Two more of the crew showed up. Under other circumstances, I might have enjoyed tangling with them. I know tricks that even the inventors of karate overlooked.
"All right," I gasped. "But give me the dope. He's not alone, is he? Are you in contact?"
It developed that Moya had returned to the site of the disaster immediately upon learning that I was out of danger. He'd taken a crewman. He was also equipped with my chart of the area complete with locales of the remains. The last word had been that the two had grounded and that the weather front was dissipating. He'd been gone about two hours.
"They both had bug suits," the medic offered.
"Great," I said. "Just splendid. Suppose there's a creature down there that can go through plastic like--"
For the first time the three lost their smug expressions.
"We destroyed your clothes," the medic said sheepishly. "We figured--"
I railed at them for a couple of minutes, but it was mostly unfair. Moya's decision could be justified, too.
They rustled up a uniform and helped me to Astrogation. The remaining crewman was at the comm. The freeze was beginning to wear off, and my leg burned.
I alternated between berating myself and trying to think up an adequate explanation for the possible death or injury of two men ostensibly under my control.
After several hours of sweat-agony, Moya's voice came over the horn. He sounded tired.