Seventeen

The Anah 5 had entered orbit. The planet hung above them, a huge blue-green orb almost totally swathed in cloud. There were twenty or so humans standing under the observation dome. They stared in silence at their new home. In half a standard, the shuttles and the converted e-vacs would drop from the big ship, carrying the people and the equipment down to what would become the first human colony. The aliens would then take the Anah 5 on to whatever strange destiny they had planned for it. When the small ships made planetfall, a whole new struggle would start. The planet would prove a stubborn, inhospitable host. Its terraforming was in an early stage; there was only a basic grounding of flora and fauna. The early days were going to be rugged, and the colonists' only consolation was that it couldn't be too much worse than what had gone before. The anticipation of the hard times to come made it all the more of a luxury to simply stand and stare.

"I wish we could see more of the surface," Hark commented.

"I'd like to think of it as a mystery for a while longer. 293

I'm sure we're going to be all too bloody familiar with it before very long," Dyrkin said.

Dry kin, Renchett, and Hark stood by themselves. Since the destruction of the asteroid's fire control and their spectacular dash to board the last shuttle, the three of them had become something of a legend among the human escapees, and although they wouldn't admit it, they felt a little awkward around people. There was even talk that they might be the fulfillment of Mystic Heda's prophecy. Renchett had taken to growling whenever the subject came up.

"No asshole ever prophesied me."

Rance and Conchela walked over to join them. These five, plus some six or seven others who had distinguished themselves during the liberation, had been informally appointed as a basic steering committee until they were down on the planet and a more structured government could be devised. Rance and Conchela seemed to be spending a good deal of time in each other's company. Hark, on the other hand, still felt a little awkward around Conchela. He hated the way in which their ages had been distorted, and he stiffened a little when she spoke to him.

"You really think we're going to make it on our own after a lifetime of indoctrination and brainwashing?"

Hark frowned but didn't look away from the planet. "I can hardly believe that we're free of them. I keep catching myself wondering if all this is just some diabolical Therem plot."

Rance's voice was very quiet. "We're free of them."

"Hell, boy, you killed a Therem." By unconscious habit, Renchett had pulled out his knife and was feeling the edge with his thumb. "Sure, we're going to make it."

Rance raised an eyebrow. "And what are you going to do with that knife? There won't be no ears to collect down there except ours."

"You never know what will come along."

Conchela turned away from the skyscape. "Oh, hell, I pray nothing will come along. You believe that the recstar really was destroyed when we jumped?"

Rance nodded. "The aliens think that it was vaporized by the backwash."

Renchett grinned. "And the Therem will assume it was the Yal."

Conchela shook her head. "I can't help thinking of all those women we left behind."

Renchett stiffened and put away his knife. "It was their choice. They thought they'd be safer as slaves."

There were sirens calling somewhere in the depths of the ship. There was a strange sadness about them.

Rance turned to go. "I guess we'd better go and start things rolling."


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