So we did.
Fortunately, the phony "night" didn't last long. Fortunately for me, I mean. Because as soon as we got to the ship, Lanse pranced along with me up to the radio turret, and there pestered the living bejabbers out of me to try to get some word from Earth. But that was strictly no go. My audio was humming like a tenor in a tepid shower. Static galore.
But at last the invisible barrier cutting us off from Sol's light slipped away, and once again we marched out onto the soil of Themis.
Marched out? Huh! This time we sauntered out. We were feeling very carefree and confident, you see, that everything was hunky-dory. Why not? We had been on the verge of signing the new peace pact when darkness interrupted us....
That blind, trusting confidence almost cost us our lives! The Themisites were again gathered around our ship. But when we stepped from the airlock—we stepped out into a hail of lethal fury!
We stepped out of the ship—right into a hail of rocks!
It was a good break for us that the Themisites had no modern weapons. A couple of Haemholtz pistols in the paws of capable users, or even one .54 millimetre rotor, and yours truly wouldn't be here to chronicle the ensuing events.