The Night of No Moon

The main trouble with the planet Boyd III was one satellite too many.

Had there been no third moon, large and close, the tides might havebeen less confused and the weather more predictable. Certain peaksof atmospheric wildness, recurrent coastal catastrophes, logical butdistressing customs of the natives—lack of these factors would havemade Boyd III a much more attractive world.

The same lack, however, would not have tempted Pete Guthrie to surveysuch conditions from the surface of the planet as part of hisexploratory and mapping duties. But it was too late now to be sorry hehad not secured his rocket properly against the incredible tides of theshoreline he had rashly chosen for a landing.

He mentioned this, for about the hundredth time, to Polf.

"Huh! Cables! Braces! No matter when wind-spirits want you," retortedthe local humanoid, darting a cowed glance at the sky from beneath hisheavy brow-ridge. "They want you stay, we will keep you."

"And I'll be stuck with you forever! Don't you have to make a living?"

"I am appointed. Like Retho, who sleeps at your door in the nights."

Guthrie scowled and examined the sky. It was a clear blue. One of themoons, named Jhux, was a yellow-white disk, faintly blurred at theedge by its thin envelope of air. The spacer wished he had remained onJhux to do his observing. With an oxygen mask, a man could be fairlycomfortable there.

The clear blue sky above him, on the other hand, would be a fearsomesight in a month or so when the storms closed in.

"It is good some spoke for you," said Polf, nodding in quietsatisfaction.

Guthrie frowned at him. Every so often, his companion's thought patterneluded him. The Skirkhi, as they named themselves, used a typicallydeveloped humanoid language, and he had managed to learn enough forcommunication. It was the way they thought that baffled him.

"Last season was not as bad as some," continued Polf, staring over theflat plain from their trifling eminence on the hill. "Elders say livingwill be hard this storm. It is a time of heat."

Guthrie also stared off into the distance, toward the seacoast beyondthe plain. He tried to show no expression, for he suspected that thesepeople were cunning at reading faces.

His looks, to be sure, must be a handicap to them. He was long and leanof face where they tended to be round and pudgy. His reddish hair andblue eyes were certainly outside their experience, for they had arousedmuch frightened comment when he had first been discovered near hislanding site.

He turned his head slowly to study Polf. The Skirkh crouched with bowedlegs folded under him and his big head thrust forward. His profile wasflat against the blue sky, for his nose was a wide-nostriled snout. Theeyes that gazed moodily at the horizon were black glints between browand cheek ridges.

The lower part of the native's face, though the chin receded, completedthe design of blunt, durable strength. It symbolized, Guthriereflected, Skirkhi life. The delicate had simply not survived on thisworld.

On the other hand, Polf was not very large compared to the Terran.Guthrie guessed him to be an inch or two over five feet, although hissquat, straddling stance made the estimate a rough one.

I wouldn't have much trouble with him, Guthrie thought. Of course,the w