The others were lying around me quietly, passed out, knocked out, or
taking cover.
The ring of aliens drew in about us, closer, tighter, as the bouncer
sat on his haunches and waited for us to move.
* * * * *
"Feeling better?" I asked Quade in the infirmary.
He punched up his pillow and settled back. "I guess so. But when I
think of all the ways I nearly got myself killed out there.... How far
have you got in the tractors?"
"I'm having the tractors torn down and the parts put back into the
spaceship where they belong. We _shouldn't_ risk losing them and
getting stuck here."
"Are you settling for a primary exploration?"
"No. I think I had the right idea on your rescue party. You have to
meet and fight a planet on its own terms. Fighting confused sounds and
tastes with music and wine was crude, but it was on the right track.
Out there, we understood language because we were familiar with alien
languages changed to other sense mediums by cybernetic translators.
Using the translator, we can learn to recognize all confused data as
easily. I'm starting indoctrination courses."
"I doubt that that is necessary, sir," Quade said. "Experienced
spacemen are experienced with transphasia. You don't have to worry. In
the future, I'll be able to resist sensations that tell me I'm freezing
to death--if my gauges tell me it's a lie."
I examined his bandisprayed hide. "I think my way of gaining experience
is less painful and more efficient."
Quade squirmed. "Yes, sir. One thing, sir--I don't understand how you
got me away from those aliens."
"The aliens were trying to help. They knew something was wrong and they
were prodding and probing. When the first tractor pulled up and the men
got out, they seemed to realize our own people could help us easier
than they could."
"I am not quite convinced that those babies just meant to help us all
the time."
"But they did! First, that call of theirs--it wasn't to lead us into
danger, but to warn us of the cliff, the freezing wind. They saw we
were trying to find out things about their world, so they even offered
us one of their own kind to study. Unfortunately, he was too much for
us. They didn't give us their top man, of course, only the village
idiot. It's just as well. We aren't allowed to dissect creatures that
far up the intelligence scale."
"But why should they want to help us?" Quade demanded suspiciously.
"I think it's like Nagurski's dog. The dog came to him when it wanted
somebody to own it, protect it, feed it, love it. These aliens _want_
Earthmen to colonize the planet. We came here, you see, same as the dog
came to Nagurski."
"Well, I've learned one thing from all of this," Quade said. "I've been
a blind, arrogant, cocksure fool, following courses that were good on
_some_ worlds, _most_ worlds, but not good on _all_ worlds. I'm never
going to be that foolhardy again."
"But you're losing _confidence_, Quade! You aren't sure of yourself any
more. Isn't confidence a spaceman's most valuable asset?"
"The hell it is," Quade said grimly. "It's his deadliest liability."
"In that case, I must inform you that I am demoting you to Acting
Executive Officer."
"Huh?" Quade gawked. "But dammit, Captain, you can't do that to me!
I'll lose hazard pay and be that much further from retirement!"
"That's tough," I sympathized, "but in every service a chap gets broken
in rank now and then."
"Maybe it's worth it," Quade said heavily. "Now maybe I've learned how
to stay alive out here. I just hope I don't forget."
I thought about that. I was nearly through with my first mission and
I could speak with experience, even if it was the least amount of
experience aboard.
"Quade," I said, "space isn't as dangerous as all that." I clapped him
on the shoulder fraternally. "You worry too much!"