The shuttle had been on the point of landing when the volcano blast had caught it, throwing the vehicle heavily to its side. Nine passengers had not survived the impact, but the others, hastily mobilized by the resourceful young pilot, Captain Greene, had got the living out of the shuttle before the air locks were submerged. They had managed to leave the area, the hot mud only centimeters from their heels as they plunged out of the western end of the valley. They had paused only to distribute supplies and attend to burns, scalds, and broken bones, before force-marching themselves as far from the erupting volcano as their strength would take them. The wind was easterly: they had picked the only safe direction to flee. And that had been only by chance, since the pilot had thought he was directing them toward the mining site that had been their destination, but a knock on the head, from the crash landing, had skewed his sense of direction.
“Remarkable that we were all led to this particular spot,” Steve Margolies said. “This appears to be the opening of a vast system of caves. The two parties could have ended up in widely separated spots. Are there other entrances to this particular cavern?” he asked, glancing toward the back of the cavern.
Greene shrugged. “Could be. We didn’t need to explore with that fresh stream right outside.”
“We’ll return later, properly equipped, and do a thorough investigation,” Dr. Fiske said in a firm command tone. “Right now, we’d better report these coordinates and get our wounded back to SpaceBase. I believe this may be one of the places for which our teams have been searching all these years. Dr. Margolies, I trust you brought some means of communication with the base, didn’t you?”
“Of course, of course,” Steve said. He jumped to his feet. “We’ll have to go outside and get some height for the best possible signal-” Then he stopped, as Torkel latched on to the comm set at his belt and hauled himself wearily to his feet, using Steve to balance himself.
“I initiate any communications,” Torkel said curtly. Then he caught his father’s frown and managed a ghost of his old diplomatic smile for Margolies. “That is, I’ll report in while you and my father continue the debriefing.”
Captain Greene nodded to the least injured of his crewmen, a short black man, who helped Steve and the rumbling Torkel untangle the comm set from Steve’s belt.
“And while you’re exercising your jaw, Dr. Fiske, I’ll just see to your arm,” Clodagh told the scientist. She crouched down in front of him and began untying the sling.
“Dama, I’ve waited this long,” Fiske said with great dignity, resisting her ministrations. “I can certainly-Ouch! How did you do that?” He stared at his newly set arm and then at Clodagh, eyes wide with respect.
“It’s a knack I’ve developed,” she said. Then she dipped a length of bandage in a pot of her boneset potion and quickly and deftly wrapped the area about the break. By the time she had done that and rinsed her hands off, the bandage had hardened. “This will be more comfortable for you until you get back.”
“But this hardened … I don’t believe this,” Fiske said, tapping the shell experimentally.
Gently but firmly taking his arm again, she replaced it in the sling and tied it across his chest. Then she began to undo the blood-soaked bandage on his thigh.
“This wants stitching,” she said, examining the gaping wound.
“It’s been cleaned and dressed,” Fiske said testily, inhaling quickly at the sight of his parted flesh.
“That was well done,” Clodagh agreed, and let a handful of a moist salve slip onto the wound.
Fiske started to hiss and then stopped in surprise. “That didn’t hurt.”
“Medicine need not hurt, or taste bad, to be effective. Never did know who started that stupid old superstition,” she said with all the scorn of an experienced practitioner. From another packet she took a needle already threaded and began to make neat sutures.
Despite an initial distaste, Fiske gradually became fascinated by her swift movements. “Where did you get your training?” he asked respectfully.