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“Anything else, MacAran, Lovat?”
    MacAran said a respectful, “No, sir,” and slipped quietly away, leaving the Captain to his rest, his First Officer standing over him like—the image touched his mind in shock—a fiercely maternal tiger over her cub. Or over the old lion? And why did he care anyhow?

CHAPTER TWO
    Too much of the passenger section was either flooded with fire-prevention foam, or oil-slick and dangerous; for that reason, Captain Leicester had given orders that all members of the expedition to the mountain were to be issued surface uniforms, the warm, weatherproof garments meant for spaceship personnel to wear on visiting the surface of an alien planet. They had been told to be ready just after sunrise, and they were ready, shouldering their rucksacks of rations, scientific equipment, makeshift campout gear. MacAran stood waiting for Camilla Del Rey, who was giving final instructions to a crewman from the bridge.
    “These times for sunrise and sunset are as exact as we can get them, and you have exact azimuth readings for the direction of sunrise. We may have to estimate noon. But every night, at sunset, shine the strongest light in the ship in this direction, and leave it on for exactly ten minutes. That way we can run a line of direction to where we’re going, and establish due east and west. You already know about the noon angle readings.”
    She turned and saw MacAran standing behind her. She said, with composure, “Am I keeping you waiting? I’m sorry, but you must understand the necessity for accurate readings.”
    “I couldn’t agree more,” MacAran said, “and why ask me? You outrank everybody in this party, don’t you, ma’am?”
    She lifted her delicate eyebrows at him. “Oh, is that what’s worrying you? As a matter of fact, no. Only on the bridge. Captain Leicester put you in charge of this party, and believe me, I’m quite content with that. I probably know as much about mountaineering as you do about celestial navigation—if as much. I grew up in the Alpha colony, and you know what the deserts are like there.”
    MacAran felt considerably relieved—and perversely annoyed. This woman was just too damned perceptive! Oh, yes, it would minimize tensions if he didn’t have to ask her as a superior officer to pass along any orders—or suggestions—about the trip. But the fact remained that somehow she’d managed to mike him feel officious, blundering and like a damn fool.
    “Well,” he said, “any time you’re ready. We’ve got a good long way to go, over some fairly rough ground. So let’s get this show on the road.”
    He moved away toward where the rest of the group stood gathered, mentally taking stock. Ewen Ross was carrying a good part of Camilla Del Roy’s astronomical equipment, since, as he admitted, his medical kit was only a light weight. Heather Stuart, wrapped like the others in surface uniform, was talking to him in low tones, and MacAran thought wryly that it must be love, when your girl got up at this unholy hour to see you off. Dr. Judith Lovat, short and sturdy, had an assortment of small sample cases buckled together over her shoulder. He did not know the other two who were waiting in uniform, and before they moved off, he walked around to face them.
    “We’ve seen each other in the recreation rooms, but I don’t think I know you. You are—”
    The first man, a tall, hawk-nosed, swarthy man in his middle thirties, said, “Marco Zabal. Xenobotanist. I’m coming at Dr. Lovat’s request. I’m used to mountains. I grew up in the Basque country, and I’ve been on expeditions to the Himalayas.”
    “Glad to have you.” MacAran shook his hand. It would help to have someone else along who knew mountains. “And you?”
    “Lewis MacLeod. Zoologist, veterinary specialist.”
    “Crew member or colonist?”
    “Colonist.” MacLeod grinned briefly. He was small, fat and fair-skinned. “And before you ask, no, no formal mountaineering experience—but