The battered flagship had approached closer, but, as before, Thettumir was able to make out no details. The planet was covered with clouds—strange dense gray clouds. He knew the clouds indicated an atmosphere—perhaps even a breathable one—but his reluctance to accept the planet as a temporary repair base was due to the fact that the clouds would make landing extremely difficult. The Urgollian fleet was already badly damaged, and additional injuries would only complicate matters further.
Yet Thettumir knew they would have to land. The fleet would never reach Urgoll in its present condition. Many other vessels had suffered even greater damage than that to the flagship.
Thettumir turned from the scanner with sudden purpose. The assembled officers stiffened to attention.
"Forbidding as this cloud-covered world seems, it is our only hope for obtaining materials for repairs as well as suitable working conditions. Immediate orders shall be issued to the fleet to begin deceleration. We shall take an orbit about the planet in order K4. Scout ships are to be dispatched to descend and explore the surface. Further orders will be issued after the scout ships report. For the present, proceed as directed."
Thettumir turned and left the control room. The task of slowing their tremendous speed, he knew, would take time—time which he could spend most comfortably in his cabin. Besides, bitterness still gnawed within him at the recent Urgollian defeat by the men of Urrth. Or was it Errth, he wondered. He could never remember the exact pronunciation. He'd have to ask Sthalor, the chief psychologist, again. Sthalor had questioned enough captive Errthmen to be sure.
Questioned. Thettumir decided that was too nice a word. Sthalor's methods were apt to be harsh, but they produced vitally necessary information.
Striding through the corridors of the flagship, Thettumir thought wistfully of Errth. Of all the nine planets in the Solarian System, Errth had been the most desirable. A beautiful world, so much like Urgoll, and in many ways even superior. It would have made an ideal colonial addition, if—
If Urgoll had won, Thettumir thought with sudden pain.
He entered his cabin. Removing his flexible tinted metal uniform harness, he lowered his squat massive form gratefully into a chair. From a humidor on his desk he took a nikot leaf, which he rolled into a cylinder and inserted into a smoke-tube. He lit up, puffed away, felt the aching tension gradually leave him.