A few meager drops of rain, sibilantly soaking into the eager soil of
Epsilon-Terra.
Whoever first mouthed that bit about cursing being the audible
manifestation of a mediocre mind completely missed the point.
There's something infinitely comforting in the crackle and sweep and
roll of heartfelt invective.
I left the site of the common grave and made it back to the hillside and
shuttler IV as fast as discretion and terrain and my game leg would
allow.
* * * * *
"I _am_ thinking," Moya grumbled over the comm. "If these details are so
important, why--?"
"Don't blame Interstel," I said. "The tapes were put together by GS
headquarters."
"Well, whoever. They should have included more information."
"Thompson," I prodded.
"Sure, sure, I remember him. Big, awkward, slow-moving--always babbling
about plants."
"What kind?"
"_All_ kinds."
"But anything particular? Something that he wanted to extract something
from."
"Well, let's see--He brought back lots of sample specimens, but there
_was_ one that he played with all the way home. It was an insectivorous
or carnivorous species, as I recall--"
"Yes? Yes?"
"That produced a chemical he thought might prove useful if it could be
extracted and concentrated or synthesized--Now, hold on. Are you
trying--?"
"Why not? And why didn't you mention this sooner?"
"For the simple reason--What got you off on this tangent?"
"_Rain._ The kid's diary said '_rain_ potential.' The captain's log
mentioned a _surface weather front_. And it _rained_ just before I was
hit."
"I fail to see the connection. But think about this: It rained on the
survey team I ferried here, too--not often, but more than once or
twice--and nothing happened to them."
That was the trouble with firing off at half thrust.
But there was still this nagging conviction: rain plus vegetation equals
death.
I could picture Moya and the crew speculating that I'd taken complete
leave of my senses.
But sometimes you have to play the game blindly--"by the seat of your
pressure suit," as the pioneers stated it.
I went to the shuttler's locker, located a canteen in a survival kit,
filled it and left the ship.