"Silicate life?" Paula theorized thoughtfully. "It's possible. And it might evolve on a planet where conditions are so tough for survival. Such creatures wouldn't be affected by the Noctoli pollen, either, would they?"
"No. Or they've built up resistance. The virus is active only in daylight, when the flowers are open. I don't know why. Before we go too far into the Black Forest I'll have to give everyone antitoxin shots—everyone but me. The pollen doesn't work on me any more."
They were silent, resting. It seemed only a moment before Brown appeared, announcing that the raft was ready.
"It's a makeshift job, but it's strong," he said. "Listen, Garth, what about the planes spotting us on the river? We'll be an easy target."
"They wouldn't fire on us?"
"No. But they'd use sleep-gas, and nab us when we drifted ashore. We don't want that."
Garth rose, his muscles aching. "It's a chance. Most of the time there'll be fog on the river. That'll help." He found his medical kit and shouldered it. "I'm ready."
The men were already on the raft, a big platform of light, tough lata-logs bound together by vines. Garth took his place near the pile of equipment in the center. "Keep to midstream," he cautioned. "Watch for bubbles breaking ahead. Swing wide of those. Waterspouts."
The raft slid out from the bank, long poles guiding it. Water washed aboard and slipped away as the platform found its balance. Presently they were drifting downstream in the dimly-lighted fog, the black river murmuring quietly beneath them.
Garth kept his gaze ahead. It was hard to see in the faint, filtered light of the moons, but a ray-lamp would have been betraying to any planes that might be searching above.