It was late afternoon when I reached the camp.
I was tired, dirty, thirsty, hungry, and thoroughly frustrated.
I drank from a previously unopened water bowser and wolfed several nutratabs.
Then I stumbled over to the shuttler, secured the recorder and interrogation setup, raised the star ship, and brought Moya up to date.
"I'm going to move this vehicle to the hillside and spend the night there. I figure I'd better give E-T a full twenty-six hour rotation interval to come up with something before the next step. Tomorrow, I'm going to need a man down here to witness the location and disposition of the corpses. You know the drill. It's your decision whether they should be identified singly, if possible, and secured for removal to Terra, or whether they should be interred here, commonly. My recommendation is to make a film record and plant them, but I'm too tired to argue. One thing more: whoever you send—if he gives me any lip, I'll cut him down like a small tree. There's been enough mistakes made here already."
I spent the night in the shuttler. Call it an atavistic response to the unknowns of darkness.
It was a restless interval between dusk and dawn.
Occasionally, I illuminated the hillside and surrounding area. A couple of times, I glimpsed the eye reflections of small animals. They seemed to possess the shyness of most nocturnal creatures. But I couldn't help wondering—
Morning dawned gloomily; there was a light mist hanging over the streambed, and much of the sky was turgid with clouds.
I gave the star ship the go-ahead and specified dispatch because of the threatening weather.