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of Titan's deserts, the surface lander stood in an oasis of light cast by its
perimeter arc lamps. Smaller lights flashing and moving on the slopes below
and to either side of the rise marked the positions of the landing party's
U.S. Special Forces and British marine contingents deploying into concealed
positions to cover the approaches.
Inside the lander, Zambendorf and Abaquaan, carrying helmets under their arms
and moving slowly in their ungainly extravehicular suits, picked their way
forward among the similarly attired figures sitting and standing in the
cramped confines of the aft mess cabin, and stopped at the doorway that led
into the midships control room. Amid the clutter of crew stations and
communications consoles ahead, Charles Giraud, Leaherney's deputy, was talking
to an image of Leaherney, who was following the proceedings from the Orion,
while other screens showed the surroundings outside. One display presented the
view from a highflying drone, and showed as a tiny pattern of slowly moving
dots on the computer-generated, false-color landscape the group of approaching
Taloid riders, now less than two miles away, that had been selected as first
contacts partly because of their small number, and partly because of the
isolated surroundings, which it was felt would minimize possible
complications.
"Ah, the psychologists are out in force, I see," Zambendorf remarked, looking
down at Massey, Vernon Price, and Malcom Wade, who were sitting nearby.
"At least we've got a good reason," Vernon said. "What the hell are you two
doing down here?"
Zambendorf shook his head reproachfully. "Just because you have successfully
exposed some rather amateurish frauds, you shouldn't make the mistake of
concluding that therefore nothing genuine can exist," he cautioned. "Mustn't
rely too much on generalizations from one's own experiences. That's not being
scientific, you know."
"A good point," Wade commented. "That's just what I've been saying all along."
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"Are the Taloids believed to be telepathic?" somebody else asked curiously.
Zambendorf permitted himself the condescending smile of one unable to say as
much as he would have liked to. "Shall we just say that I am here at the
personal request of the mission's Chief Scientist?" They could say it if they
liked; it wasn't true. Massey turned his head away in exasperation.
Meanwhile Abaquaan was following events in the control cabin through the door
ahead of them and talking in a low voice with one of the ship's officers who
was standing just inside. Zambendorf moved a pace forward and peered past
Abaquaan's shoulder just in time to hear Daniel Leaherney ask from the
monitor, "Does it change the situation in your estimation, Charles? If you
want to reembark your people down there and wait for a more opportune
occasion, you have my approval."
Giraud shook his head. "The armed drones will provide ample reserve firepower
if there are any hostilities. Let's get on with it now that we're here.
Colonel Wallis agrees. We've decided to leave the arc lights on to give some
warning of our presence." Reactions observed previously had confirmed that the
Taloids possessed at least some sensitivity to ordinary visible wavelengths.
"What's happening?" Zambendorf whispered.
Abaquaan gestured at the screen showing the terrain across which the
Taloids were approaching. "A second group of Taloids is following the first
group and catching up fast," he said. "About thirty of them . . . and they've
some of those crazy walking carts." The Taloids were known to possess,
incongruously, legged vehicles that were drawn by machines running on wheels.
"Is the second group chasing the others or trying to join them?"
Abaquaan shook his head. "Nobody knows, Karl. But the ones in front are taking
their time. Either they're not bothered, or they don't know that the other
guys are there."
"The lead group of Taloids has stopped moving," an operator announced. On the
screen, the pattern of dots had reached the far side of a broad, flat-bottomed
depression that lay beyond the rise. "They should be able to see our lights
from where they are now."
Giraud studied the display for a moment, and then turned to face the ship's
captain, who was standing next to him. "Better get the rest of the surface
party outside," he murmured.
The captain nipped a switch and spoke into a microphone. "Attention.
Remaining personnel for surface, helmet up and assemble at midships lock.
All remaining surface personnel to midships lock."
Five minutes later, Zambendorf and Abaquaan emerged onto the platform outside
the lock and stood gazing out at the wall of impenetrable gloom beyond the arc
lamps. Ignoring the ladder extending downward on one side, Abaquaan stepped
off the platform and allowed his twenty-two pounds of weight to float to the
ground six feet below. Zambendorf followed as more figures appeared in the
lock hatchway behind, and an instant later his feet made contact with the soil
of an alien world. For a moment he and Abaquaan looked at each other through
the faceplates of their helmets, but neither spoke. Then they turned and moved
forward to join the reception party assembling ahead, fifty yards inside the
edge of the circle of light.
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