He whispered to the young woman next to him. She stood. “Mr. Fang does not feel able to moderate. His voice is not strong enough.”

“Then you do it,” the man said.

The young woman blushed. “I am Mr. Fang’s apprentice. I know nothing about public speaking.”

At that point I stopped listening. In all likelihood the Chinese had picked someone to moderate. But they wouldn’t put the person forward. That would be undemocratic and immodest. Instead there would be a discussion. I looked around the room trying to estimate the size of the crowd. Over a hundred. About a third were crew. They must have brought in everyone from the rocket planes. I smiled at people I knew. Harrison Yee stood in the back, leaning against the wall, his arms folded. He raised a hand in greeting. Funny, I should have seen him before this.

The moderator was picked. A middle-aged Chinese woman. She had a strong firm voice and not much of an accent.

“It is getting late. These people have to get up early. I am going to suggest a very limited agenda. I think two questions are of special interest to everyone here.

“First, what happened to Lixia and Derek? Why did we lose contact with them?

“And second, what do they think is going to happen tomorrow? What are the natives going to do?”

The agenda was approved by a show of hands. Derek gave a report on our accident. He was brief and clear. I stood next to him, feeling uncomfortable. I wasn’t especially fond of meetings, and I did not like being the center of attention. I was an observer. I wanted to be in the audience. When he finished, the moderator asked if I had anything to add.

“No.”

“Do you want to answer the next question?”

“What are the natives going to do? I have no idea.”

Derek added, “They are used to travelers; and they aren’t afraid of strangers. But the strangers are only passing through. As far as we can tell, each culture is discrete. They don’t mix. Maybe because they don’t have a tradition of war. They don’t conquer their neighbors. They don’t carry one another off into slavery. They don’t rape. They don’t steal wives.”

“Is this a tangent?” asked the moderator.

“No. If we were travelers, they’d welcome us. But we are going to ask for permission to stay. I have no idea how they will respond.”

Harrison Yee raised his hand. The moderator pointed at him.

“This situation can’t be completely new. This planet has diseases and volcanoes. There must have been villages that were so damaged by some natural disaster that they couldn’t continue on their own.”

“Yes,” said Derek. “But we haven’t heard about them.”

Another person said, “Are you sure there has been no exchange of genetic material? Have you seen evidence of inbreeding?”

“No,” I said. “And I think Derek is overstating the situation. We know that individuals move from one culture to another. There is probably enough of this kind of movement to prevent serious inbreeding. But as far as we can tell, there isn’t the kind of mixing of entire populations that has been common on Earth.”

“In that case,” the person said, “there ought to be a lot more genetic diversity. I think you’re wrong. I think these people are managing to interbreed.”

“I’m only telling you what I’ve seen. And my conclusion, which is—we don’t know how these people will react to a bunch of strangers who want to settle down in their midst.”

“We are not talking about a permanent stay,” a woman said. She had an East Indian accent. “Are we?”

“Please raise your hand before you speak,” the moderator said. “We do not want this meeting to get out of control.”

A black man raised his hand. The moderator pointed to him. He said, “I know it was decided to send a mixed group. Men and women. I think that’s crazy. The natives have driven away how many men? Gregory. Derek. Harrison. We’re just going to make them angry.”

Ivanova said, “I agree with you absolutely.”

Eddie said, “We are not planning to go into the village until we’ve explained the situation and asked for permission. If they say the men can’t come in, we won’t.” He smiled briefly. “Which could be a problem for my position. If necessary, I will ask Lixia to give the argument for nonintervention, though I’d prefer to give it myself.”

“They’re likely to tell all of you to go away,” the black man said. “What you are doing has nothing to do with honesty. This is lack of respect for the culture and beliefs of another people.”

Ivanova nodded. “You are right. But remember—we have already achieved what we wanted in this region. Derek and Lixia have been rescued. If the natives tell all of us to leave, not much is lost. We can send a team of women to another village.”

“If honesty doesn’t work, we can always try a lie,” a woman said.

The moderator said, “Please.”

People kept talking. Nothing new was said and no one went back to the question asked by the Indian woman, either to answer it or ask it again. We are not talking about a permanent stay. Are we?

The meeting ended. I jumped off the bar. Harrison came up and hugged me.

“Where have you been?”

“On one of the planes. Eddie’s been keeping me busy, sending reports to the ship.”

I must have looked dubious or maybe hurt.

“He said you were having trouble adjusting to the camp. You needed time alone.”

“Maybe.”

People were leaving, taking chairs. Gustavo moved in behind the bar. His eyes shone green. He said, “I’m reopening. Can I get you anything?”

Harrison and I ordered wine.

Eddie said, “Be careful with that stuff. We want to start early tomorrow.”

“When?” I asked.

“Sunrise.”

“I’ll be careful. Are you sure that you want me to give the argument for nonintervention? If you can’t, I mean?”

“You know the argument. You know how to speak to the natives. You believe in democracy.” He smiled. “Maybe more than I do. If the natives are going to make an informed decision, they need to know what I have to say. You’ll see that they get the information.”

“I guess I will.”

He paused for a moment. “As Derek would say, we have to learn to deal with people as they are. If they can’t be corrupted, then we have to find a way to use their honesty.”

“You’re talking in the first person plural, Eddie. That’s always a dangerous sign.”

“You’re right.” He made the gesture of farewell.

Harrison watched him leave, then said, “What was that about?”

“Eddie is having trouble dealing with the current situation.”

Harrison nodded. “If he doesn’t get himself together, I think we are going to have to find another coordinator for the team.”

“No more politics! Tell me what’s been happening on the ship. The gossip. Not the faction fighting.”

He did. I finished my wine.

Gustavo said, “In my role as a bartender I should offer you another. But I’m also a psychotherapist, and you don’t need any more alcohol.”

“You are?”

“Of course. My area of competence is psychopharmacology.” He took my glass, then wiped the ring of moisture off the bar. “You don’t have to worry. I took a course in bartending. I can mix almost anything you might want to drink.”

Harrison grinned. “And then tell you what kind of damage it will do.”

Gustavo nodded. He took Harrison’s glass. “Sunrise, Lixia. You might want to pack tonight.”

He was right. Harrison and I left the lounge. The air outside was damp and cool, and the clouds above the river bluffs had spread. Now they covered a third of the sky.

“New weather,” said Harrison. “I envy you. I have to go back to the plane.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Eddie wants me to handle communications between you people and the ship, which means I’ll be trapped out there—” He waved at the lake. “I don’t really mind. There is the most beautiful young man on the communications team. They thawed him out recently. His eyes are like the sky in summer, and his hair is like autumn wheat.”