Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [73]
The alternative, unfortunately, was to live with the threat these Voyager people posed. That was unacceptable as well, but it had so far been less risky than the other option.
"We have them under close surveillance," Daket had several times reported to Gantel. "Each breath they take is being counted."
The aliens had been somewhere in the village, after all, and that was close enough. But even before the following dawn Daket had been presented with yet another troubling report from one of his scouts: a small party that included the shuttle crew had left the village, heading back in the direction of the downed ship.
The team Daket had in place at the shuttle had been ready for the imminent return of the visitors. Daket could only hope his people would be able to dispose of the intruders quickly when they arrived, and that the whole process would not cause too great a delay. After all, playing tag with the landing party was not his primary task--or even his secondary goal, for that matter.
"I am seeing to the work on the shuttle personally," he had since told Gantel, even though he didn't quite know where the little vessel was.
He'd told Gantel he was seeing to the ground echo work personally, too, and the grid search teams, and the energy source evaluations, and whatever else Gantel asked about. That was, of course, what Gantel wanted to hear. And that was the important thing.
"The third director is hailing you," a voice from the bridge said over Daket's belt communicator.
"You will explain that at the moment I am in the field inspecting the extensive damage to our operations caused by the last round of quakes, that lives and equipment are being lost, but we are coping. Tell him I will contact him shortly."
"Yes, Daket."
The comm went silent. No one on the bridge knew he was standing just outside the ship.
Daket looked up to skies clouded with volcanic smoke and ash.
Time was running out. He had a growing urge to tell Gantel that this mission was entirely senseless, that he and his crew had waited long enough, done all they could, risked too much already.
That it was time to go. The presence of those who had landed in the shuttle and that of their friends in orbit didn't matter one way or the other, as far as Daket was concerned, especially with the first director on her way here. He was almost certain Gantel would agree if he were down here instead of up there. But Daket was as certain that saying so would only get him into more trouble than he knew how to get out of.
And he didn't want to risk that.
Gantel kept insisting that Daket hold on and keep working until Shaale and the fleet arrived. "We must appear to be fighting against failure, exploring every option right up until the last."
And he was right, of course. Gantel hadn't gotten to be a third director by misreading his opportunities. Or by going easy on those directly beneath him, as Daket had discovered times enough.
It wasn't that Daket's excuses weren't good ones--they were classic--it was just that Gantel did not want to hear any of them. Which left Daket at a considerable loss. Rules were not rules anymore, it seemed.
Daket looked about the grassy clearing. His teams were beginning to come and go in regular patterns again, setting up new probes and going out to take readings on the ones already deployed. It was possible the quakes would reveal underground passageways, or even create them, though Daket didn't think anyone on this planet was quite that lucky.
At least not anyone working with him. And probably not even Gantel.
He checked the time. He hadn't gotten a report from the team at the shuttlecraft in several hours, which was unacceptable to begin with.
Moreover, that was quite probably what Gantel wanted to know about.
Tolif, who was in charge of that bunch, was a competent fellow, and usually quite punctual. Daket shook his head. He had endured enough