“Not in the dark–and not without heavy equipment,” MacAran said, but he accompanied her back toward the Captain’s field quarters. He had to admire the efficiency with which the firebreak operation had been set up, the small amount of ship’s firefighting equipment moved to the hospital. The Captain had sense enough to use Moray here. They’re really two of a kind–if they could only work together for the same objectives. But just now they’re the irresistible force and the immovable object.
The fine rain was changing to heavy sleet as they came into the dome. The small dark crowded dome was dimly lit by a single handlamp, and the battery seemed to be already failing.
Moray was saying: “–our power sources are already giving way. Before we can do anything else, sir, in your plan or mine, some sources of light and heat have to be found. We have wind-power and solar-power equipment in the colonizing materials, although I somehow doubt if this sun has enough light and radiation for much solar power. MacAran–” he turned, “I take it there are mountain streams? Any big enough for damming?”
“Not that we saw in the few days we were in the mountains,” MacAran said, “but there’s plenty of wind.”
“That will do for a temporary makeshift,” Captain Leicester said. “MacAran, do you know exactly where the fire is located?”
“Far enough to be no immediate danger to us,” MacAran said, “although we’re going to need firebreaks from now on, anywhere we go. But this fire’s no danger, I think. The rain’s turning to snow and I think that will smother it out.”
“If it can burn in the rain–”
“Snow’s wetter and heavier,” MacAran said, and was interrupted by what sounded like a volley of gunfire “What’s that?”
Moray said, “Game stampede–probably getting away from the fire. Your officers are shooting food. Captain once again, I suggest conservation of ammunition for absolute emergencies. Even on Earth, game has been hunter recreationally with bow and arrow. There are prototype in the recreation department, and we’ll need them for enlarging the food supply.”
“Full of ideas, aren’t you,” Leicester grunted, and Moray said, tight-mouthed, “Captain, running a spaceship is your business. Setting up a viable society with the most economical use of resources is mine.”
For a moment the two men stared at one another in the failing light, the others in the dome forgotten. Camilla had edged around behind the Captain and it seemed to MacAran that she was supporting him mentally as well as backing him up physically. Outside there were all the noises of the camp, and behind it all the small hiss of snow striking the dome. Then a gust of high wind struck it and a blast of cold air came in through the flapping doorway; Camilla ran to shut it, struggling against the wild blast, and was flung back. The door swung wildly, came loose from the makeshift hinges and knocked the girl off her feet; MacAran ran to help her up. Captain Leicester swore softly and began to shout for one of his aides.
Moray raised a hand. He said quietly, “We need stronger and more permanent shelters, Captain. These were built to last six weeks. May I order them built to last for a few years, then?”
Captain Leicester was silent, and with that new and exaggerated sensitivity it almost seemed to MacAran that he could hear what the Captain was thinking.
Was this an entering wedge? Could he use Moray’s undoubted talents without giving him too much power over the colonists, and diminishing his own? When he spoke his voice was bitter; but he gave way gracefully.
“You know survival, Mr. Moray. I’m a scientist–and a spaceman. I’ll put you in charge of the camp, on a temporary basis. Get your priorities in order and requisition what you need.” He strode to the door and stood there looking out at the whirling snow. “No fire can live in that. Call in the men and feed them before they go back to making firebreaks. You’re in charge, Moray–for the time being.” His back was straight and indomitable, but he sounded tired. Moray bowed slightly. There was no hint of subservience in it.