“You seem very sure we will get back, sir.” Masurathoo found that more and more of his attention was being drawn away from the ongoing conversation and toward their saturated, inhospitable surroundings.
“I’m always sure I’m going to get back. I’ve been in bad situations before, and I’m still here.”
“You not spent time on foot in Viisiiviisii,” Jemunu-jah countered. The human just glared at him but said nothing.
“Well, I daresay that our present obligation is to make ourselves as safe and comfortable as possible while we await our own rescue.” Masurathoo began searching for a drier place among the leaves and branches.
“What rescue?” Hasa snorted. “Want to bet that whatever took over your skimmer also disabled its emergency equipment, just as it did mine?” Pulling it from his service belt, he waved the compact short-range beacon he had used in his futile attempt to signal the incoming skimmer. “Right now this is all we’ve got that we know works. I wouldn’t want to bet that Commonwealth Administration would be in any hurry to send out a second craft to look for you. Not for a while. They’ll assume you’re taking your own good time looking for me.” Rising and turning, he peered off into the flooded forest. “Sitting around waiting to be picked up didn’t do me much good, did it? I’m not going to hang around here waiting for another skimmer that may or may not be on its way.”
“I agree.” Jemunu-jah moved to stand closer to the human. “So much noisemaking will have attract many meat eaters. They all around this place, waiting to sample taste of food that talks.”