"Home!" she cried. "Gravity!"
"Uh—yeah." Ray tried to lift his feet. It went slowly, with some strain—half again the pull of Earth. Urushkidan groaned and wheezed his painful way to a chair and collapsed all over it.
"Let's go!" Dyann snatched up her sword, set the helmet rakishly on her bronze curls, and opened the airlock. When Ray hesitated she reached and yanked him out.
The air was cool and windy, pungent with a million scents of earth and growing things, tall clouds sailing over a high blue heaven, and even the engineer was grateful for it after the stuffiness of the boat. He looked around him. Not far off was a charming rustic cottage. It was like a scene from some forgotten idyll of Earth's old past.
"Looks good," he said.
A four-foot arrow hummed past his ear and rang like a gong on the ship's hull.
"Yowp!" Ray dove for shelter. Another arrow zipped in front of him. He whirled at a storm of contralto curses.
There were half a dozen women pouring from the charming rustic cottage, a battle-scarred older one and five tall young daughters, waving swords and axes and spears. A couple of men peered nervously from the door.
"Ha, Ormun!" yelled Dyann. She lifted her sword and dashed to meet the onslaught. The oldest woman caught the amazon's blow on a raised shield and her ax clanged off Dyann's helmet. Dyann staggered, shook her head, and struck out afresh. The others closed in, yelling and jabbing.
Dyann's sword met the nearest ax halfway and broke across. She stooped, picked the woman off her feet, and whirled her over her head. With a shout, she threw the old she-warrior into two of her nearest daughters, and the trio went down in a roar of metal.