By GOD I was going to make wordcount today. And I did.
Up close, Adam’s shacks were solid-looking but extremely basic log-and-mud caulk cabins, although he had sprayed sealant on the outsides to keep out the rain. There were other signs of modernity around; clear memory plastic being used for windows, some metal fittings on the rough-hewn table and benches, nothing that couldn’t be backpacked in. It looked a lot like the Royal Ranger campgrounds back home on Jefferson, only scaled up for adults (and without the archery and firing ranges). That was the good part.
The bad part was that as I got closer I the reek of unwashed and unhealthy animals grew larger and larger. That wasn’t good news, although at least I wasn’t smelling dead bodies. “Process,” I muttered, “there’s something alive here. What can you scan?”
“Very little,” the Process replied. “The planetary traffic net is nonexistent in your area right now, and the hauler does not have sophisticated sensors. Your personal camera is likewise not providing me with very much information to work with. On the other hand, I can maintain audio contact, even if my regular visuals are limited. I assume you are still armed?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I took the pistol with me.” One-Eighteen isn’t one of those worlds that’s filled with things ready to rend the flesh from your living bones. It doesn’t even have really big critters. But it does have animals that can attack humans, so we do have some guns in storage. I had been carrying one mostly because it’d make a amazingly loud bang when fired. Hopefully, that’d be all I need.