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It wasn't Pulickel's fault. No one had informed him, no one had warned him
that he was going to be working with a goddess. What was someone like Seaforth
doing running a xenological contact station in the wilds of a frontier world,
even as comparatively benign a frontier world as Senisran?
Socioanthropology being what it was, he expected he would find out.
It would be exceedingly rude to ask her, having just been introduced.
Meanwhile he would treat her exactly as he would any other colleague, except
that he would have to watch where he let his eyes linger rather more than was
usual. No doubt she was used to that, as well.
She laughed again. "Well, I'm glad `that's good.' Bet you're tired. We're a
long way from
Ophhlia." Stepping past him, she headed for his travel case. "What do I call
you? Senior officer on site, Pulickel. Mr. Tomochelor, or just Pu, as in
Winnie the?"
Following her, he discovered, was no less distracting than talking with her
face to face. He made
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6%20-%20The%20Howling%20Stones.txt an effort. "Pulickel will do fine, since
we'll be working together for the foreseeable future." He glanced to his left.
"I'm sure there's plenty of room for my stuff in your skimmer."
"You travel light." Her tone was approving, which shouldn't have mattered to
him but inexplicably did.
"Experience. The controls for the built-in hoist are located in a recess on
the other end."
"Glad to hear it. I'm not in a lifting mood." She held out the chill-cup as
they reached the case.
"Want a sip?"
He eyed the protruding siphon. Mindful of her admonition to relax, he tried to
make himself sound less officious. "What's in it?"
"Fructosoid specimen number one twenty-six. Suaswana in the local lingo. There
are about a thousand regional varieties of fruit and juice, some with
conflicting names depending on the maturity or location of the relevant tree
or bush. I'm still cataloging." She thrust the container at him.
He shrugged internally. So long as it was cold and wet...
The frosty liquid detonated against his palate, blasting out reminiscences of
lime, pomegranate, and something almost intolerably sweet. Another exotic
trade item, he thought as he passed the cup back. No wonder the big trading
houses were salivating over development permits for Senisran.
"Very nice," he admitted readily.
She downed a swallow. "There's plenty more, some of it even better. You'll
taste for yourself.
Come on."
Using the case's integral hoist, they maneuvered his gear up and into the open
cargo bay of the skimmer. It had no canopy, only an adjustable windscreen
forward.
"Don't use the top much," she replied in response to his query. "It's back in
the shed. I can reattach it when necessary." Vaulting up into the open
cockpit, she turned and reached down. "Need a hand?"
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Shaking his head, he put both hands on the gunwale and pulled himself up and
in. Nodding approvingly, she slipped a dirty, stained mechanic's shirt on over
her suit, settled into the pilot's seat, and flicked contact pads. Humming
with restrained power, the skimmer lifted off, leveled itself, and hovered a
meter above the crimson sands.
He eyed his precious case. "What about clampdowns?"
She looked back over her shoulder and shook her head. "Shouldn't need 'em.
It's heavy, enough that it won't blow out. You, on the other hand, might want
to hang onto something." She indicated the seat next to her own.
Moving forward, he gripped an available handbar and braced himself. "I've been
sitting down most of the way from Earth and all the way from Ophhha. I'll
stand, if you don't mind."
"Just hang on. Over open water this baby can fly."
With a rising whine they rose to a height of three meters. Seaforth pivoted
the craft until they were facing the lagoon and gunned the engine. Sand flew
and Pulickel nearly stumbled as the skimmer shot out over the water,
accelerating rapidly. Beneath their shadow the placid surface of the lagoon
rippled slightly.
Seeing him squinting into the wind, she helpfully raised the transparent
windscreen to a height sufficient to shield his face. The gesture went
unremarked upon and she shrugged inwardly. Prim sort of chap, she thought. If
that was the way he wanted it, it was fine with her. Deity knew there was
plenty to be done.
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