The hostel was situated a few blocks farther on in the direction of the Central District, where already the surroundings began to feel more like a town meant for people than an industrial suburb of trucks and machines. Although the effect was marred somewhat by the profusion of overhead cables and communications antennas everywhere, the place did make the effort to look more like a residence than an office block or factory shed, and even sported some color in the form of planters containing strange red and orange Terran flowers, standing along the foot of the walls either side of the entrance. Vereth regretted that the hostel didn't have a restaurant in the manner of the hotels, but he pointed out a cafeteria adjacent that he said was "interesting." Terran steaks tended to be on the chewy side, he told them, but they tasted wonderful.
A clerk at the lobby desk greeted them with customary pleasantries and confirmed the details that Olin had given. Vereth saw them to their room, where they deposited their bags, and they walked with him back to the lobby. Was there anything else he could do? No, he had been more than helpful already. It was his privilege. Echoing Olin to remind them that they could always feel free to call him on the planetary net, he made his parting bow and left.
The hostel lobby had its notice-board wall complete with map too, but embellished with poster-size prints of Terran ice cliffs, mountain peaks, and deserts, and giving details of local entertainments and activities that would help newcomers meet their neighbors and make some friends. A quick perusal revealed a couple of longball teams, a drama group, a class for Terran art and architecture studies, a debating group hosted by the Progressives, a club devoted to a Terran game of positional strategy called chess, which was becoming popular back on Venus, an organized sightseeing itinerary, and several musical groups. There was also the usual collection of ads describing items for sale, lost and found, attempts to match skills for hire with work in demand, and shyly disguised pleas from lonely hearts looking for company.
"That place that Olin was talking about sounded interesting," Kyal remarked.
"You mean the shop where they bring the machines and things?" Yorim said over his shoulder as he scanned the board.
"Yes. If we've only got a week, we might as well make the best of it. What do you think?"
"I say let's get something to eat next door first." Kyal agreed, and they turned to head back out the door.
"Try a Terran steak," the desk clerk tossed after them as they left. "The chicken bird is good too."
Yorim had the steak. Kyal tried the chicken. They sat on opposite sides of one of the lont, eight-seat tables, munching in silence as they experimented. "What do you think?" Kyal asked finally.
"Okay . . . but a bit bland compared to a good flank cut. Better when you spice it up." There were some home-imported sauces on the table. "How's the bird?"
"Okay, I guess."
"I read somewhere that the domesticated variety the Terrans had didn't fly. Maybe it was better."
"Oh, really?"
"Your face looks a bit funny. Kind of distant. Are you feeling okay?"
"A bit muzzy headed," Kyal admitted. "But I don't think it's the food. The air, maybe."
"It could be the gravity," Yorim said. "You're feeling the effects of a whole planet for the first time in months. A ship's G-polarizers are localized. It produces a subtly different effect. Some people are sensitive to it. It'll wear off by tomorrow. Did you feel dizzy on the first day or two out in the ship?"
"I can't remember. . . . Could be, I suppose. Let's hope so." Kyal took a sip of water. It tasted sweet and clean. "How was the tour of the G-system in Explorer 6? You never told me."
"Interesting. They're not under drive in freefall, so you can't divert power from the charge generators the way you can when you're in Venus transit. So they extract it from orbital momentum with periodic reboosts."
"Casselo could tell you everything you wanted to know about it, then, eh? So you think he's okay too?"
"As good as we'll get," Yorim agreed. "My take is that we picked ourselves a good boss here, chief. I don't see any problems."
Kyal chewed silently for a while, then asked nonchalantly, "Did he bring up any political angles? You know, feelers about attitudes and views about different things? . . ."
"No. We just talked about longball and technical stuff."
Kyal felt relieved. It seemed that Casselo didn't represent an extension of Sherven in that respect, that would intrude into their working relationship. The findings on lunar Farside sounded too intriguing for the work to be marred by concerns that belonged back home, and as far as Kyal was concerned, were better left there.
Others had been drifting in since they sat down, mostly younger people but with a few older ones among them too. A girl detached herself from a group who were finding seats at one of the other tables and came over. "Well! Two familiar faces. This huge world is becoming smaller already." It was Naseena, the geologist who had come with them on the Melther Jorg.
"Naseena!" Kyal exclaimed. "And you seem to be making a good start in getting to know people already."
"Hey," Yorim greeted.
"I thought you two were going to that place on Luna," Naseena said.
"We're taking a week's break to look around a little down here first," Kyal replied.
"Where are you staying?"
"Next door."
Surprised showed on Naseena's face for a moment. She probably expected them to be in one of the hotels. "Me too," she told them. "I'll be leaving in a couple of days." They already knew from their time on the ship that she would be working in the huge mountainous region to the east known as the Himalayas. She took a step back and explained to the others, "These are Kyal Reen and Yorim Zeestram, who were on the same ship. Space electromagnetics. They'll be going on soon, out to Luna."
"Involved with those Terran constructions that were discovered on Farside?" one of her companions guessed.
"Exactly right," Kyal said.
"I've read about them." The speaker was stocky and rounded, wearing a padded work vest over a red shirt, with white hair showing beneath a flat peaked cap. "And I'm curious. Any ideas yet?"
"The place is a lot bigger than it looks," Kyal said. "We've had some sonar scans done."
"Already?"
"While we were on our way out. It goes a lot farther down below the surface."
"Really? Now I'm really curious."
Naseena sighed. "Oh dear, I'm doing this all the wrong way round. This is Mowrak, the person I'll be working with. I've only just met him today too." The white-haired man tilted his head. Naseena gestured to the a younger man next to him. "Whylen is an excavation engineer, soon to go back to digging up cities in . . . Where was it, Whylen?"
"China." Whylen was dark-haired and sinewy, his face shadowed by several days of stubble. He rose briefly from his chair. "My privilege, I'm sure."
The man who had sat down next to him was about the same age, thirtyish, muscular and lithe, with a florid countenance that complemented a head crowned by a thicket of copper-red hair. His features were drawn in intense, angular planes about a sharp nose, thin but firm mouth, and a pointy, determined chin. He was wearing an open black shirt and a brushed leather jacket that was at the same time stylish and durable.
"And this is Jenyn," Naseena completed. "Just back from being in the Americas for a while. He's next door in the hostel too, waiting for permanent quarters. That's right, isn't it? . . . I'm not sure what he does, though? What do you do here Jenyn?
"Linguist." Jenyn answered. He didn't concede to any courtesies, but regarded Kyal and Yorim unsmilingly with pale blue eyes. Kyal had the discomforting feeling of being evaluated for some prospective purpose. Jenyn cocked his head to one side. "Where are you people from back home?"
"I'm a Ulangean," Kyal replied. "Fellow Zeestran is from Gallenda."
Jenyn nodded. The coolness and distancing implied by Kyal's use of the titular form didn't make any visible impact on him. "How were things there when you left?' he inquired.
Yorim's brow furrowed. "What kind of things?"
Jenyn answered in a careless drawl. "Oh, life in general. The usual things people talk about. Prices and taxes. Who makes the rules. Are they happy with the way things are being run?"
Naseena threw in, "He's becoming the local Progressive organizer in Rhombus already. You're running for the leadership nomination among the Terran bases, Jenyn, yes?" She looked back at Kyal and Yorim. "I suspect that probably had more to do with what he was doing in the Americas."
Mowrak had registered that Kyal and Yorim were not responding warmly to the turn of conversation. "There's a workshop where they clean up pieces of Terran machinery and things," he said. "We were going there after we've eaten. Want to join us?"
"We had exactly the same idea," Kyal said, happy to move the subject along.
"Great," Mowrak said. "They've got a Terran war tank that's just been brought in, dug up out of the desert not far from here. It's going to be sent back home as a museum exhibit."
Kyal and Yorim looked at each other and exchanged nods. "Sounds good," Yorim said for both of them.