GENELLAN: PLANETFALL(194)

An oppressive weight lifted from Quinn's shoulders. Nashua Hudson's survival had defied logic and reason. His flesh cooked and his bones crushed, the ensign had been evacuated on the first EPL off the planet and immediately taken at full military thrust tothe medical facility aboard Tierra del Fuego. The accelerations and stresses of planetary escape worked against success; Hudson died enroute and was revived—twice. Fleet doctors and equipment could perform near miracles on a living being, but could do little for a dead one. Hudson's infirm body and nearly orphaned soul made it back to the fleet and were welded together. Healing would take much longer.

"Wonderful," Quinn said, a catch in her throat. "That means so much."

"To us, too, Commander," Kateos said, standing. "Hud-sawn is our good friend. We go with you." Dowornobb stashed the remains of their picnic in his suit pouches. They walked in silence past the circle of ash and charcoal that marked the perimeter of the settlement ruins. The palisade gate frame still stood, as did the blackened stone foundations of most the buildings. Guilders working on the new construction moved nervously from the paths of the kones. At least they no longer ran and hid.

"Ah, there are Dawson and Gol'berg with their babies," Kateos announced, brown eyes widening. "Come, my mate, and let us say hello. I want to hold a baby."

"Again!" Dowornobb smiled at his mate's tender enthusiasm.

"Excuse me, Commander," Godonov said, as the kones trotted away. "I should get started across the river if I'm going to catch the next apple. Fenstermacher has a ferry leaving in a half hour."

"All right, Nes," she answered. "I'll be back on Eire in three days."

She found herself standing alone. Reconstruction banged and clattered about her; rock walls were being cleaned and reassembled. The lodge roof had already been framed with new timbers. Winter was near; the survivors of Harrier One worked feverishly to restore the settlement.

Quinn self-consciously forced herself not to stare at the bare-chested men working the timber and rock. She was no prude, but she still was uncomfortable with their hairy, burnished bodies. Laser Corporal Tatum smiled at her as he hurried by with a tree trunk held firmly by one Herculean arm over his sinewy shoulder. The man's head was covered with reddish-blond hair pulled into a ponytail that approached his waist; his wide mustaches flowed into a thick beard, and his chest and back were pelted with a wiry, rust-colored gauze. His face was florid, the skin peeling and peppered with freckles. Quinn had to remind herself that the kones and the cliff dwellers were the aliens.

In the midst of the ruins, next to a large campfire, stood three konish tents. Et Silmarn, without his helmet, stood close to the fire, watching the activity. She walked up to the noblekone, anxious to share the fire's warmth.

"Governor," Quinn said in halting konish. "I use your fire."

"Good-ah day, Commander Quinn," Et Silmarn replied in Legion. "You speak-ah my language better with-ah each day. We soon not-ah need Mistress Kateos's translator. Please join me. It is cold-ah. How do they work-ah with bare skin?"

"Work keeps them warm," Quinn said, although she wondered the same thing.

"It-ah goes well," Et Silmarn said. "Perhaps Sharl is correctah to rebuild-ah. I should not-ah have demand—is "demand" right word?" Quinn nodded. "Should not-ah have demand-ah Sharl move all humans to Ocean Station for winter."

"You are not still angry with Sharl?" Quinn asked.

"No," the noblekone said. "Only, uh...hurt-ah feeling. Sharl said-ah Longo wanted humans to move south. It was insult-ah. I am not-ah Longo."

"She meant no insult, Et Silmarn."

"This I know. Sharl has pain in heart-ah."

Quinn nodded sympathetically and then remembered her duties.

"Admiral Runacres is scheduled to arrive tomorrow," Quinn said, switching to Legion and reaching into her haversack. "After the services are over he would like to have a meeting with you, and he proposes the following agend—"

"Commander," Et Silmarn said. "When Et Avian—Uh, King Ollant appoint me governor he make-ah it-ah clear that-ah all discussions with humans must-ah involve Citizen Sharl. We should-ah find-ah her, yes?"

* * *

Buccari spent hours hiking in solitude. Often she climbed to the top of the valley and walked in the fields of wildflowers mottling the grassy, humpbacked ridges. Hunters were always with her, sometimes soaring far above, sometimes hopping along behind. Always with her, always armed and vigilant, and she was glad for their silent company.

A familiar double sonic boom sounded far overhead. Buccari searched the deep, cloudless blue skies and presently saw the EPL gliding across the landscape, on final for a landing beyond the river. Her forearms tightened involuntarily; her fingers curled as if grasping heavy flight controls and power quadrant. She watched the EPL, so small in the distance, enter its landing transition, flames belching in vivid colors. Smoke and debris momentarily hid the craft from view. Her stomach sagged with the sensation of deceleration, and she vicariously sought the comforting contact of touchdown. Engine noises racing across the wide river valley and the intervening distances finally reached her ears. She looked down at her feet and the solid ground beneath them.