Freedom's Landing

"That location's not all that far…" Mitford said, pulling at his lower lip in a pensive fashion. "Hmmm." He walked his fingers the distance. "Well, a good week's march."

"Not now we have that vehicle,' Worry said eagerly.

"We've only got the one big one in operation.. Mitford began, "but hell's bells, it'll get a patrol there and back faster "n' safer than they could trot it. OK, Zainal, Kris, Bert, Sarah as medic, Joe as hunter, and you'll need a good mechanic." Mitford winced. "He's a pain in the butt, I know, folks, but the best mechanic we've got is Dick Aarens.

"Aw, Sarge," Kris began in protest.

"Now," and Mitford held up a placatory hand and stared her down, "he's not going to trouble you with Zainal along."

"He hates aliens' guts,' Kris complained.

"He may but he's proved that he can read the meco makers' schematics and alter them as easily as you'd play with a Lego set.

This is not an outing. This is a patrol! You gotta pass by Camp Narrow on your way, so I'll go with you and give Aarens the business.

You." and Mitford turned to Zainal, including Joe and Sarah in the same glance, "discipline as and when he needs it. As hard as need be.

The trip may even do him good."

"We'll see that it does," Kris promised caustically but she wasn't at all pleased at Aarens' inclusion in what should have been a great jaunt with good people she trusted. Even if she didn't know Bert Put well, she liked his frank, open face and enthusiasm and the avid way he had examined the alien charts, like a boy with a gizmo he had never expected to own.

Careful inspection of the terrain to be crossed suggested this would take three, possibly four days, at the speed the modified tractor could make.

"We run faster," Zainal said with a little grunt.

"Not over some of the ground, m'friend," Mitford said, pointing out several areas that appeared to be significant heights and rivers.

"That thing hops barriers like a gazelle, saves you having to take the long way round. We tested its stability on every sort of terrain and it's better'n' a tank. Can't tip because it just lifts on its air cushions. More comfortable than the tractors I remember as a kid.

"Sarge, you were never a kid!" Kris said, teasingly.

"I begin to think you're right, Bjornsen," and he slipped the map over to Dowdall. "Dow'll make you a copy to take along. The originals aren't going out of my possession. Now, figure out the supplies you'll need and you're to take along some furs. You'll be at altitude and it's bound to be colder this time of year." Zainal looked even larger in the fur vest that had been made for him. But he wore it with an air that made it seem regal ermine.

"Biggest damn rock-squat I ever saw," Sarah said, grinning from ear to ear.

"I am funny?" Zainal asked in mock indignation. He flexed his shoulders. "It fit well. Warm." He slid out of it and, folding it up with care, tied the bundle with a thong.

There were fur rugs as well as vests for each member of the expedition, including Dick Aarens. Kris was still struggling to accept the necessity of him joining the patrol.

"I know he's a horse's ass, Kris, but he helped put this vehicle together and he knows how to get the most out of it. You will need him on the team."

"I will not like it, Sarge, and if he so much as - - "Clobber him. Or better still, let Zalnal do it. Only not too hard.

You may need him undamaged." Mitford gripped her arm in a firm but friendly emphasis to his orders.

Bert Put's presence helped a great deal, even when all he had to look at was the relevant section of map that Dowdall had competently produced. They let Mitford off at Camp Narrow and reluctantly collected a cockily grinning Dick Aarens, who was still festooned with his belt of tools and vest of pockets which bulged with unidentifiable lumps.

"Ready when you are," he said jauntily, climbing up to the seat Mitford had vacated between Joe Marley and Sarah McDouall.

"Just don't let it go to your head, buddy, Kris said, glaring at him because he was deliberately playing kneesies with her.

"Only trying to be friendly," Aarens said in an almost plaintive whine. "Maybe I should drive. I know this baby inside out."

"I drive," Zainal said and that was that. Mitford had tested his skill on the way to Narrow and this wasn't the first ground vehicle Zainal had ever driven.

Zainal turned the control handle and the Hopper moved forward. It had been so named on the trip down since it invariably "hopped' any terrain that exceeded its pre-programmed optimum angle. They had all learned to hang on to something to be secure against unexpected manoeuvres. Generally the air-cushioned vehicle proceeded smoothly Aarens' attempts to chat up Sarah failed when she made it obvious - by linking one arm through Joe's that she was uninterested. Aarens sulked until Bert Put's look of disbelief at such childish behaviour shamed him into neutrality The Hopper might be faster than the average tank but it was no McLaren on a Grand Prix circuit. It also "flew' neatly over a wide meandering river and three narrower ravines they encountered the first day. When they camped for the night on a rock ledge, above a small cataract and pool, Zainal and Bert figured they had covered nearly seventy miles.