That was the trouble with firing off at half thrust.
But there was still this nagging conviction: rain plus vegetation equals death.
I could picture Moya and the crew speculating that I'd taken complete leave of my senses.
But sometimes you have to play the game blindly—"by the seat of your pressure suit," as the pioneers stated it.
I went to the shuttler's locker, located a canteen in a survival kit, filled it and left the ship.
I started where I'd found the largest collection of remains.
Moya's memory had failed to particularize the plant, but I had enough evidence to negate indiscriminate baptism.
I felt supremely foolish—for a while.
My thoughts began to focus, and I recalled the little plant that had grown up through the hole in the pelvis.
Casting about, I located adult specimens. They seemed to fit the requirements. Again it struck me that they bore a familial kinship to a variety that occurred on the plain.