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It goes in the laboratory module, not the kitchen.”
    The technician responded with an indifferent shrug. “Blend food, blend specimens—what is the difference?” But he obediently turned the lifter on which the equipment in question was presently balanced in the direction of the correct corner of the camp.
    Araza was a strange bird, Boylan thought. Excellent worker, never talked back, versatile as hell. Except that when his expertise was not required he had kept largely to himself throughout the entire voyage. Which was alright, since it was all too easy for such a small number of travelers to get on one another’s nerves when crammed together on a comparatively small interstellar craft. By removing himself from the social equation at every opportunity, Araza reduced the potential ingredient for intrasocial conflict by one. Boylan might not praise the technician, but neither could he find any real cause for complaint.
    In addition to the man’s natural reclusiveness, only one other personality trait of the technician stood out in Boylan’s mind. Araza showed absolutely no interest in Tiare Haviti. Even Boylan, who being in a position of dominant authority had to be extra careful in such matters, could not keep his eyes off the xenologist or his mind from pondering highly unscientific possibilities. This was perfectly natural. The hormonally driven stance was similarly evinced by Tellenberg and N’kosi. Whatever Valnadireb might think or feel had no relevance, of course. But one would have expected at least the occasional glance or comment from Araza. Nor had the tech, taking the topic to its logical extreme, shown any inclination toward or interest in any of the other xenologists, either. Where such matters were concerned, he appeared utterly indifferent.
    Boylan shrugged inwardly. So long as it did not affect the technician’s job performance, it was not really a captain’s province to worry about the other.
    As sunset approached, his discomfort increased along with the gathering darkness. He did not fully relax until the last pair of researchers were safely back in camp. They hardly listened to the stern admonition he had prepared that chided them for their respective late returns. They were too busy comparing notes on the day’s discoveries. One in particular dominated the discussion over the dinner table as they took turns calling up meals from the camp food preparation equipment. Conversation was lightning-fast and overlapping. Feeling lost and left out, Boylan felt that if he could not participate he could at least referee.
    “If you will slow down and let each other finish, you might actually be able to communicate something,” he bellowed reprovingly.
    The immediate result of this loudly voiced suggestion was an awkward moment of total quiet. Staring in dead silence at one another after jabbering nonstop resulted in some self-conscious laughter. It was left to Haviti to restart the conversation. To Boylan’s relief, when it resumed it was at a more measured and comprehensible pace. Off to one side and apparently indifferent to the general excitement, a tool-laden Araza was fine-tuning the camp’s climate-control instrumentation. He would eat later, when everyone else had finished. Boylan considered ordering the tech to join the evening meal but finally decided against it. If the man wanted to work through dinner, let him work.
    “As we said via the general comm channel, we had a confrontation, a first contact,” Haviti was declaiming breathlessly. “Definitely sentient, though of a low order. Simple tool-making skills in evidence, substantiation of interpersonal communication, clear signs of internal hierarchy—one would assume they have reached the tribal level.”
    N’kosi and Tellenberg exchanged looks. “We also encountered the natives, though we saw no evidence of tool-making skills. Hierarchy perhaps, person-to-person communication certainly.”
    Relaxing prone on his narrow horizontal