It wasn’t of great concern to Adele if she lived aboard the Princess Cecile while they were on Tegeli. She wanted to use what written archives were available, though, and she knew Daniel liked the opportunity to socialize whenever they touched ground. That required they be received by the Patrons, the landowners of the planet.
“Oh, but that’s wonderful!” Mendez said. He glanced at his first flimsy again. “I’ll be able to accommodate two more of the Patrons! That will be—”
“No,” said Daniel, drawing eyes back to him. “Commander Mendez, it won’t be practical to divide our group while on Tegeli. If the Pansuelas can’t receive so many as four of us, then I’m afraid Mistress Mundy and I will have to remain aboard our vessel.”
“That isn’t the difficulty,” said Mendez. “You see, we have so few visitors of proper quality that the regulations allotting them among our Patrons are very strict. Still, if you insist . . . ?”
Shuffling the printouts he’d boarded with had caused him to rise slightly. He raised an arm absently, tapped the ceiling with his finger, and reversed his slow progress. While not a prepossessing man, the time the official spent on picket duty had obviously made him a past master of maneuvering in weightlessness without overcorrecting.
“I do,” said Daniel formally. “I must.”
“Then I must perforce agree,” Mendez said with equal formality. “I will inform the Pansuelas that they have the honor to receive four visitors of the very highest rank.”
He shook his head in wonderment. “They’ll be the talk of all Tegeli, they will,” he added. “They always had a reputation for being a lucky house, but now, goodness!”
Mendez turned, angling his body so he could push off for the airlock by which he’d boarded.
“Excuse me, Commander?” Daniel called to the official’s back. “Are we cleared to land, then?”
Mendez continued his rotation, bringing himself fully around. “What?” he said. “Why yes, of course—at Lusa City, as I told you. Welcome to Tegeli, patrons!”
“Welcome indeed,” Daniel agreed, giving Adele a broad smile of anticipation.
* * *
“We’ll let you lead,” Count Klimov said. In response to his gesture, Daniel strode whistling across the boarding bridge ahead of his employers. The vehicle waiting on the wooden quay beyond looked like a boat with fat tires.
The Sissie’d cooked the basin’s mud bottom while setting down. Though warm brackish water had immediately flowed back around the vessel, the stench of burned organic material formed a haze in the muggy air. It was nothing to spacers used to working high in the yards of a starship in the Matrix, but landsmen like the Klimovs might reasonably find it daunting.
Insectoids flew about the harbor, visible mostly as glitters in the air or dimples on the surface of the black water. One hovered momentarily before Daniel’s eyes, a body as small and round as a pea supported on transparent shimmers; before he could decide whether to brush it away or just duck, it zipped off on business of its own.
Daniel’s duties as captain of a ship which’d taken off hastily had kept him too busy to give more than cursory attention to Tegeli’s natural history. The planet’s seas included impressive specimens of marine life, but he should have studied the fauna of the tidal basins with greater care. That was what he’d be in contact with.
Daniel grinned. It was no different in the RCN: people ooh-ed and ah-ed over the battleships, but fleet actions were rare even during periods of full-scale warfare. The commanding officer of the corvette Princess Cecile had seen more action than some full admirals. . . .
The tangled forest surrounding the Lusa City harbor might have been a single plant. Individual stems/trunks/branches were rarely more than four inches in diameter, and the treetops were only sixty or so feet high. From above as the Sissie descended, the forest looked like a dark green pillow; viewed from sea level, the woody substructure was rigidly black against softer shadows, with air plants and parasites scattering a myriad of bright splashes.
Daniel stepped aside to allow the other three to reach firm—well, slightly muddy—ground. The Klimovs strode on toward the vehicle, but Daniel gestured Adele close and murmured, “Is there a customs official or the like on his way? I don’t want to miss some necessary formality because we left before the Port Commandant finished his siesta.”