The large man's tone was strange, Lamont thought. In his experience, Clyde tended to bark gruffly at Constance as if she were a wayward delinquent. Now he sounded respectful, almost deferential.
As the door lift door snapped opened, six pairs of eyes turned toward Lamont and Constance. A small group of people were set against the backdrop of the fantastic garden. Clyde Jackson, with his daughter Tessa nearby, was sorting through the contents of the large crate that had been brought from the ship. Rico was seated on the soft ground not far away, engaged in conversation with Sofia Hernandez, one of the new arrivals. With them were Schneider and Higgins, two crew members who Lamont recognized as being due to return to Westward. For a moment, Lamont tried to interpret the wild variety expressions on their faces, which ranged from disappointment and disgust to amusement and perhaps admiration. Then he glanced over at Constance. Her hair was disheveled, falling in wild curls around her unbuttoned collar. Her coverall, having soaked up the moisture of the under-level and then dried again, was bunched in odd places. He realized that he must look the same way.
"Bloody hell," he groaned.
As he stepped out of the lift, his copper-booted foot accidentally crushed a discarded cigarette butt on the shuttle floor.
"Do you reckon they got in a tussle, daddy?" Tessa asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"We visited the level beneath this one," Lamont explained listlessly. "It's extremely hot and humid."
Clyde Jackson spat on the ground. "I can attest to that," he said.
Sweeping past Lamont, Constance asked Clyde: "Did the new arrivals find their way to camp alright?"
"They did, Miss Beckett," Jackson confirmed. The large man's tone was strange, Lamont thought. In his experience, Clyde tended to bark gruffly at Constance as if she were a wayward delinquent. Now he sounded respectful, almost deferential.
"What do you think?" Constance asked, scuffing Tessa's hair as she peered into the container.
"We'll find a place for them," Clyde told her. "The Hoffman fellow says he knows how to brew beer."
"That could be useful," Constance agreed.
Lamont walked over to where Rico had leaped to his feet. He was smiling at Lamont knowingly until he noticed the withering glare that radiated from Sofia. The newspaperman turned to the two others who, like Rico, were dressed in the undershirts and slacks of the crew uniform. "Emma and, er, James, is it? Are you two ready to return?"
"Ready as we'll ever be," James replied unenthusiastically. A few years older than Lamont and a head taller, Higgins was a geologist. Once he was recovered from his trip, he would be a valuable replacement for the mining expeditions.
"Are Lee and Silva on their way?" Lamont asked.
"Not exactly, señor," Rico answered reluctantly. "They are—not coming."
Lamont looked at him for a long moment. "Not coming?"
"I went and found Miss Lee myself," Sofia explained, pushing her brown hair behind an ear. "She thanked me for the invitation but declined. Said she'd rather stay."
"Likewise with Silva," Higgins said. "He feels that his skills are more useful here. I reminded him that we both signed contracts, but…" He shrugged his big shoulders helplessly.