"We passed through a cold front," the medic said, shaking his head. "Or what passes for one on this screwy planet."

Captain Pahner had called a council of war to consider the night's events. The group sat near the edge of the camp, looking down on the forest of clouds that stretched into the distance from their foothills perch. Above them, the true mountains loomed trackless.

"What cold front?" Julian asked. "I didn't see any cold front."

"You remember that rain we had yesterday afternoon?" Dobrescu asked.

"Sure, but it rains all the time here," the NCO replied skeptically.

"But that one went on for a long time," Roger noted. "Usually, they just sort of hit in short spurts. That one rained, and rained, and rained."

"Right." The medic nodded. "And today, the air pressure is a few points higher than yesterday. Not much-this planet doesn't have much in the way of a weather system-but enough. Anyway, the cloud layer got suppressed," he gestured to the clouds, "the humidity fell, and the temperature ..."

"Dropped like a rock," Pahner said. "We got that part. Can the locals handle it?"

The medic sighed and shrugged.

"That I don't know. Most terrestrial isothermic and posithermic creatures can survive to just above freezing temperatures as long as they don't stay that way too long. However, that's terrestrial." He shrugged again. "With Mardukans, Captain, your guess is probably as good as mine. I'm a doc, not an exobiologist."

He looked around at the camp, and especially at the flar-ta.

"The packbeasts, now, they seem to be better adapted. They burrowed underground last night on first watch and stayed there till things warmed back up. And their skin is different from the Mardukans', scaled and dry where the Mardukans' is smooth and mucous-coated. So I think the packbeasts can make it, if we stay below the freezing line. But I don't know about the locals," he finished unhappily, gesturing at Cord and the lead mahout.