The Mystery of Ireta_ Dinosaur Planet & Dinosaur Planet Survivors - Anne McCaffrey [51]
Kai remained silent, acutely conscious of his own sometimes pressing agoraphobia.
“We have surrogate wings,” Lunzie continued, “in the agency of sleds and lift-belts . . .”
“Which do not quite produce the same freedoms,” said Kai slowly, wondering what it would feel like to be independent of all artificial aids: to dip, dive, soar and glide without the unconscious restrictive considerations of fuel, stress, mental fatigue.
“Why, Kai,” said Varian, regarding him with delighted astonishment, “you’re the last one I’d expect to understand.”
“Perhaps,” he said with a wry smile, “you planet-bred types underestimate the ship-bred.”
Dimenon, who’d been in an uproariously good mood that evening, since he and Margit had flown in to report finding not only a stream running with gold nuggets but the parent lode, had brought out his hand piano. He began to render a boisterous ballad with interminable verses and a silly syllabic chorus with such an infectious tune that everyone joined in. To Kai’s surprise, so did the heavy-worlders, thumping the plasfloor with their heavy boots and clapping with unusual enthusiasm.
Margit wanted to dance and dragged Kai onto the floor, yelling at Dimenon to leave off the endless verses and play some decent music. Kai was never certain when the heavy-worlders disappeared, but the convivial gathering lasted well past the rise of the third moon.
He awoke suddenly the next morning, with an urgency that suggested danger. When he scrambled out of the sleeping sack to the window of his dome, the scene was quiet. Dandy was sprawled asleep in his pen. There was no movement. The day had started, the brighter patch of cloud which was the sun was well above the soft slope of the eastern hills. Whatever had alarmed his subconscious was not apparent.
He was roused and so keyed up by the abrupt triggering that he decided to remain up. He dragged on a clean ship suit, inserted fresh linings in his boots and fastened them. He had a small larder in his dome and broke open a wake-up beaker, reminding himself to check with Lunzie today on the state of the stores. He could not shake his sensation that something was amiss, so he did a tour of the encampment.
There wasn’t a smell of smoke in the main dome. Gaber was fast asleep in his, the windows were opaqued in the other sleeping quarters so he did not intrude. Remembering Trizein’s tendency to work through a night, he made his way quickly to the shuttle craft, waving open the iris lock. The conditioned air inside gave him pause. Suddenly he realized that he hadn’t put his nose filters in: and he hadn’t smelled Ireta!
“Muhlah! I’m getting used to it.” His soft exclamation echoed in the bare main cabin of the shuttle. Kai walked quietly back to Trizein’s lab, opening the iris and peering in. Some experiments were in progress, judging by the activity of dials and gauges in the built-in equipment, but Trizein’s form on the ledge-bed was motionless.
As Kai turned from the lab, he noticed that the supply hold iris was open. He must caution Trizein about that. Lunzie kept her decanted fruit brew in there. Kai had noticed Dimenon’s conspicuous consumption the night before and his aggressiveness when Margit suggested he’d had enough. Kai didn’t quite put it past the man to appropriate a flask for evening use in the secondary camp. Not a habit he’d approve or condone in any of his team members.
Although his inspection satisfied him that nothing was demonstrably wrong, his uneasiness remained until, after returning to his dome, he became immersed in the restricted file in the ship’s data bank. By the time the rest of the expedition was stirring, he had rid himself of the backlog of detail. The inadvertent early rising had been rewarding.
Dimenon, looking untouched by the previous evening’s carousal, arrived in the main dome with Margit, both suited up and ready to return to their base. They