By the time the balance of the colonists arrived, in forty-five days, the survey party would have to have the initial focal point ready for occupancy, and be in a position to supply all the data the colony would need for survival.
It was the biological team's specific job not only to classify the flora and fauna of the planet, but to determine the adaptability of the colonists to all existing conditions. Bradshaw might have encountered something which would have helped tremendously with the latter category. But it was obvious he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about it.
However, an isolated tragic incident which held no bearing on the success or failure of the colony could not be allowed to interrupt the survey. Gallifa impatiently dismissed the gentle nagging at the back of his mind and returned to the compound. By 1300, Solar Time, the camp was considered to be on a standard operating basis.
Gallifa pressed young Samuels into service and finished loading the halftrack. While they were waiting for MacFarland, senior geologist and acting executive of the camp, the natives of the planet appeared.
Gallifa saw them first, and more from surprise than fear hopped to the platform beside the truck seat and swiveled the automatic pellet rifle until the muzzle covered the visitors.
"Samuels," he called softly. "Hey, Samuels, we have a welcoming committee."
Samuels stopped his work and peered over the back of the truck. He was well trained. He didn't move an inch.
"Are they intelligent?" he asked. His view was curtailed slightly by a tool box.
"I can't tell," Gallifa said quietly. "They're clannish, though. There must be fifteen, maybe twenty, in the group. Climb over the back of the truck and take a look," he suggested.
Samuels vaulted lightly into the truck.