It developed that Moya had returned to the site of the disaster immediately upon learning that I was out of danger. He'd taken a crewman. He was also equipped with my chart of the area complete with locales of the remains. The last word had been that the two had grounded and that the weather front was dissipating. He'd been gone about two hours.
"They both had bug suits," the medic offered.
"Great," I said. "Just splendid. Suppose there's a creature down there that can go through plastic like—"
For the first time the three lost their smug expressions.
"We destroyed your clothes," the medic said sheepishly. "We figured—"
I railed at them for a couple of minutes, but it was mostly unfair. Moya's decision could be justified, too.
They rustled up a uniform and helped me to Astrogation. The remaining crewman was at the comm. The freeze was beginning to wear off, and my leg burned.
I alternated between berating myself and trying to think up an adequate explanation for the possible death or injury of two men ostensibly under my control.
After several hours of sweat-agony, Moya's voice came over the horn. He sounded tired.
"We've done it. You'll be happy to know that we gave them an official burial."