resuscitation procedures, of course; all officers did. But in the dark? He stopped, holding the railing for balance, and thought, "Three days. A little less, really. Just turning the thing off, waiting for the signal and opening the cocoon, should do it." If I'm lucky.

  Inside the compartment, feeling his way among the cocoon positions, he had to face the next question. Who? Since he knew the assigned location of only one person, he had two choices. Someone at random-or Dacia. How bad is the risk? I wish I knew.

  He chose Dacia. Because, he told himself, she was the freeze expert; if she came through all right, everyone's chances were better. But his real reason, he knew, was that he needed her.

  He checked thoroughly, counting his way row by row, leaving his keys on the selected cocoon and then counting rows to the back wall and to the ones on either side. Until he was sure he was right. He pulled down the small seating-shelf that made the control assemblies easier to work with, and sat, and groped among the switches. He needed only to turn the thing off and let it cycle down; he moved, and the switch made the proper click. Now there'd be an hour or so before the cocoon announced, with a blinking light and audible tone, its readiness to be opened.

  Might as well spend the time up in Control. He might learn something. But he didn't expect to enjoy that learning.

  Back upship he sat at his console, fingering switches and occasionally trying one. Nothing new, and Ivan had used up all his ideas. Except for one, and the result of that one could kill all hope.

  But finally he had to test it; he couldn't hide forever. He pulled up the right-hand arm of his seat. More than not, he hoped to find the small compartment empty. Occasionally Tregare smoked a cigar, but so seldom that he didn't carry a lighter. He kept one here, though, and one in his work desk. Ivan reached, and there it was.

  Holding it in front of him, his arm bent slightly, Ivan pushed the operating stud. No light; maybe the thing was out of energy. Quit kidding yourself! His other forefinger reached and felt the heat.

  Well, now you know! Cursing at the slight bum, mumbling past the finger he sucked to soothe the scorch, helped ease the pain of knowing.

  85

  The chronometer's voice-tape was blithe and perky. Though Ivan waited, each time, as long before consulting it as he could manage, he got decidedly tired of its perkiness. When finally it told him his hour's wait was nearly over, he stood and made his way again downship. He felt his way past the cocoons and found his keys. He sat, and while he waited, made sure of the next control he needed. When the tone sounded-and of course the damned light would be blinking, too-Ivan's breath was not steady.

  Here it goes. He moved the switch that would let the cocoon open. It made the right sound-which was to say, the tone stopped. He put his hands to the lid, not to hold it but to feel it move, and at first he thought it wasn't working, but then it began to lift. Not quickly-never fast, these devices-but not hesitating, once begun.

  When it was up all the way, Ivan stood and reached into the open tank, fingers outspread to find Dacia but cautious of the connections that needed care to terminate.

  Brushing past her hair, he touched her face. Cool but not chill; her throat had a good pulse and he heard breathing. A little slow, in the normal range for sleep. He stroked her cheek and squeezed one hand, waiting. Her head moved; her lips touched his hand. "Dacia?"

  "Mmrn. Yuh-Ivan?" Her head raised, then fell back.

  "Dacia. Lie still; don't move. Stay as you are, until you're all the way awake. Because-I'm sorry, but I can't help you; you'll have to make all the disconnects yourself. So wait; wait, Dacia-"

  He talked on, pausing only now and then, until he knew she heard and understood. Finally she said, "All right, Ivan. But why?"

  He knew what she meant, sure. But for a time he couldn't say it. Then he did. "Because there's no light."

  She didn't understand immediately; then she gasped, and he felt her sit up and try to hug him. "Dacia! The connections-"

  "It's all right; I didn't break any. But, Ivan!"

  Gently he pulled her hands free of him. "You'd better see to yourself first. And be careful." When she was done, and had climbed out-he reached to help, but fumbled and was no use at all, that he could tell-they stood and hugged properly.

  "Ivan-you can't see anything!" He shook his head, and felt tears leaking from his useless eyes.

  XI. Lisele

  Lying on something hard, feet

  higher than her head, Lisele came awake. Her throat hurt. Staring upward, she wasn't sure where she was. Then she looked to one side-and seeing from that angle, began to recognize things. The control room was tipped over, was ail-so the whole scout was, too.

  She tried getting up, and found she could. Tipping her head back she looked at the seats above her; from one, Stonzai hung by her harness. From the alien's mouth fell a drop of blood, then another.

  "Lisele! You're all right?" Tregare's voice. She turned and saw him lying across the control panel, level with her eyes. Gasping, she spoke his name, then said, "Yes. I think so."

  She'd have to climb up to him. His foot stuck over the edge; she reached for it. "No!" Startled, she pulled her hand back. Gently, he said, "The leg's broken; touching the foot wouldn't be a good idea. Can you climb some other way?"

  She looked. "Sure." She reached for her mother's harness, hanging from the seat, and pulled herself up. Then, stepping across to the control panel, careful not to step where she shouldn't, she squatted beside her father. "Those Tsa crashed us, didn't they? Can you fix it?"

  Once, falling out of a tree, Lisele had broken her arm; she remembered how it felt. But if Tregare was tightened up with the hurt of his leg, she couldn't tell it. He said, "Fix the scout, you mean? To lift-off again?" She nodded. "I can't think how. The scout itself won't be hurt much-but we're tipped over. And out here with no equipment, that's a lot of kilos to hoist." He shook his head. "Our best bet is to yell for help, to get us out of here. If we can raise anybody. Then, if it seems worth it, come back

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  87

  and clear a landing pad. A ship's crane, that's what it takes to roust this baby up again."

  She frowned. "If we can raise anybody? Why couldn't we?"

  "Well, we don't know yet, how Ivan made out with that Tsa fleet. Or the Shrakken, for that matter. So-"

  "But what if we can't get help?"

  Now in his face she saw the tension, but all he said was, "Then, princess, we'll just have to think of something else."

  Sitting at the edge where she could hang her feet over, she considered what he said. She heard a noise and looked up to see her mother climbing down through the deck hatch. "Lisele!" Rissa dropped what she was carrying, and came down fast; for a moment they held each other. "Thank peace you are not in­jured." But Rissa's hand, touching her throat, brought pain.

  "Ow! I remember now; I was choking. What-?"

  "Your mother got you down," Tregare said. "Good job, too-I couldn't have." Then, staying clear of the hurt leg, she and Rissa were over by Tregare, all talking at once, and hugging.

  Finally Rissa said, ' 'I should report. I have freed those in the accel bunks, and we have laid the pads on the bulkhead where they can be of use. Sevshen is still unconscious-as I note Stonzai is, also. I detect no serious physical damage to either, but-" She shrugged. "Mental injury? We can only wait and see."

  Now Rissa looked as if something hurt. "Hagen Trent is only bruised. But Jenise-" Shuddering, she said, "When we struck, somehow her left hand had slipped between the inner and outer frames of her bunk. Bran-the wrist, and more-crushed."

  Inhaling, Tregare's breath whistled. "What's been done for it?"

  "Not enough. I stanched the bleeding and operated the transfusion kit. Then Trent took over, and began sewing tendons back together. But the bones-like assembling a puzzle, with pieces missing!"

  Tregare patted his wife's shoulder. "Yeah-no fun. I had to try to do something like that, myself, once."

  "Is there anything you have not done?" Now, at least, Rissa could smile-though not, in Lisele's view, very well. "At any rate-I plundered a lifeboat kit for organic bone cement, enough anti-infectant to obviate extreme sanitary precautions, and surgical tools. And of course we put Jenise out of pain. Not out of consciousness-we needed her cooperation, her reactions.

  88

  But having to watch us deal with that mangled wrist-" Her face twisted. "She cried so much!"

  Feeling a little sick, Lisele still had to know. "But what did you do!"

  Rissa ruffled her daughter's hair. "We tried to put together those shattered fragments of bone; there was not enough left, to do it right. Not without a real surgeon and a kit of plastic laminate."

  "How did you leave it?" said Tregare. "What's the prognosis?"

  Rissa shook her head. "Even if she does not lose the hand, it will retain little function. As of now the mangled parts are covered, with synthetic dermis filling the gaps in the remaining skin. We determined size and contour for the flexicast; when I left, he was fitting it. The fingers will protrude slightly; if they turn color, of course, the hand comes off." She sighed. "At least Hagen has volunteered for that chore, if it is necessary."

  She freed herself from Lisele's embrace and Tregare's, and retrieved the bundle she had dropped earlier. "We are not doing things in proper order. Here, Bran, is the flexicast kit for your leg. That, at least, I do know how to use. And first, of course, before setting the fracture, the injection to free you of pain."

  Tregare sighed. "I was hoping you'd get around to that part, pretty soon."

  The setting didn't work; Rissa couldn't apply the flexicast and keep the broken ends in place at the same time, and Lisele simply wasn't strong enough to hold traction by herself. So Rissa sent her to fetch Hagen Trent. "-when he's free to come, of course."

  Not as sore or stiff as she'd been a short time earlier, Lisele climbed to the deck hatch. Passing Stonzai, she saw the Shrakken's eyes were open, and called the news down to Rissa. "We'll get you out of there in a minute," Lisele said, and went to look through the hatch opening.

  What she saw, relieved her. Sitting up, Sevshen drank from a cup Hagen Trent held. And Jenise Rorvik lay breathing evenly-either asleep or doped out.

  Trent looked around. "How's Tregare's leg? Need any help?"

  "Yes. We do need help. Can you come now?" As he followed her down, she looked back and saw Sevshen coming, also. Moving not too well, but being careful, at least. At Stonzai's level he paused; the two Shrakken spoke in their own language, and began fumbling at the harness that held Stonzai.

  89

  "Wait!" Liseie gestured at them. "You'll fall, if-" She shook her head. "In a minute, Hagen can do it." So Stonzai stopped trying, and pushed Sevshen's hands away, too. Liseie went on down to where Tregare lay.

  Trent and Rissa talked for a moment; he put traction to Tregare's leg and she felt for the broken part, pushed a little and then nodded. "This is correct; hold steady, please." Face sweat­ing, Tregare grunted as she wrapped the sheath-several layers- and sealed it. "There!" she said. "Now, Bran, we can get you off this uncomfortable roost."

  And when he was down, seated on a purloined cushion and leaning against the bulkhead, Rissa and Trent climbed up and freed Stonzai.

  The Shrakken said only, "Trouble, we have. But loose of those straps to be, good is."

  The first thing, Tregare said, was that no matter what worked out later, certainly they'd all be in the scout for a while. So Liseie and the rest of the able-bodied went back to the bunkroom and took loose the rest of the accel pads, to make more comfortable beds. They carried some down to Control, too, and arranged them so Liseie could sleep at one side of the console that now lay flat on its back, and Rissa and Tregare on the other.

  Moving under his own power, Tregare edged over to his new bed and stretched out. "Not half bad. Thanks." Then his face took on an expression Liseie knew, the one that meant he was planning ahead. "Rissa? You want to check the control panel and see if it's got any news for us?"

  Rissa seemed preoccupied, but she nodded. "I am afraid I have allowed myself to fail into worry about the Deux-and our little Renalle aboard. But first things first, as you say. And I agree that at this stage we need outside data." She climbed to perch on hands and knees over the console, and began to check the indicators and call out the results.

  "Drive is operative-were we not pointed into the planet itself."

  "Lucky, there," Tregare said. "It could've blown."

  "But it did not. Power reserves, fuel, near full capacity. Comm gear in working condition, but no incoming signals, because-''

  "Yeah," Tregare put in. "Antennas retracted. Unretract?"

  90

  Rissa moved switches, turned a dial, then scowled and shook her head. "They are jammed; they do not move."

  "Plowed into the dirt, you think?"

  "Probably. When I apply power, the servos overheat and disconnect."

  Tregare shrugged. "Well, skip it. What else is on the board?"

  Straightening, balanced on knees and shins, Rissa shook back her loose hair, then bent forward again. A viewscreen lit, and Lisele saw a dim picture: dense growth of trees, afternoon light reflecting on water. Rissa sighed. "Not the best of luck, eh, Bran?"

  Lisele didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

  Tregare's laugh came harsh. "Jungle, I was braced for. What we're down in, though, is swamp."

  Tregare had no more interest in the control board's infor­mation, and showed it, but Rissa stayed where she was and read off what she found. Finally she said, "That is all," and jumped down, knees bending as she landed. She turned to Tregare. "Now, until something new occurs, I am done with that uncomfortable position. Another thing, though-how long since any of us has eaten?"

  Shaking his head, Tregare grinned, and Rissa said, "Our mini-galley now sits at the upper far corner of this space-and on its side, too." She looked across to Trent. "Hagen, if you will get a tool kit from under the console, perhaps you can take loose one of the cooking units and remount it-" She scanned the place, and shrugged. "-oh, in some way that it can be used."

  Trent chuckled. "Right side up, you mean. Sure; I'll try." As he rummaged for the tool kit, Lisele followed Rissa's climb to the small galley, and helped sort the food packets her mother handed out from the upended cabinets. Trent's relocation job, when he finished it, looked pretty slapdash-but it worked, and after a time, everyone was fed. Except Jenise Rorvik-Rissa carried food up to her, but the injured woman wasn't awake yet.

  Even fed, Tregare was restless. "There's still daylight left," he said. "Rissa, couldn't you and Trent take a quick look around, outside, before it's dark? Give us some idea what we're up against, out there?" He moved a hand. "No big safari-just a quick scan."

  91

  Rissa nodded. "Of course. To reduce our uncertainties. Hagen?"

  The man agreed, and then Lisele knew she wanted to do something, too. "Can I go with you? I'll be careful."

  After a moment, Tregare said, "You both watch out for her, though. All right?"

  So Lisele-feeling as much scared as important, but the other way around, too-went with Trent and Rissa. The man had a needlegun at his belt, and Rissa a holstered energy weapon. Climbing first up and then down, walking the side walls of staircases and bent over because the stairs were built so narrow, Lisele followed them to the airlock.

  At first it wouldn't open. Rissa frowned, tapped the pres­sure gauge and punched the override button. Noise came, a groaning shudder and with it a burnt smell; then the airlock door, lying on a slant now, gave two feeble jerks and slid partway open. Through the lower third of the opening oozed thick, grey mud topped with a layer of green slime. It smelled pretty bad, but Lisele gulped and kept her dinner down.

  Rissa and Trent looked as if the stink had got to them, too. Lisele said, "Are we still going outside?"

  Both hands busy with her long dark hair, tying it up around her head, Rissa Kerguelen said, "I am, because I told Tregare that I would. You need not; it might prove dangerous. If-"

  "I told you I'll be careful."

  Face relaxing, Rissa squeezed Lisele's shoulder. "Of course. Come with us, then." Together, all three waded out through the mud.

  Outside, a breeze blew, so the stink wasn't too bad. The heat was, though. A little away from the scout, which lay with its nose buried in mud as Tregare had guessed, was some solid ground; they waded over to it and scrambled up. Lisele had mud most of the way up her legs; the others, taller, hadn't quite so much.

  It wasn't a good place for walking. There was more mud and water, as far as Liseie could see, than solid groundside. But Rissa squinted against the low sunlight, and pointed. "There, just under the water. A kind of path, I think."

 

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