“There’s a lot more of them now.”
“Yeah.” The Captain toggled his comm button. “Gregg, how are you doing getting into the suit?”
“Almost there boss.”
The locals, small quadrupeds in the thousands, were crowding around the base of the lander now. The external microphones were picking up a wailing chant and rhythmic drumming. “They’re pretty worked up.”
“I feel like a rock star.”
The Captain laughed. “Okay, but even money they tear you apart.”
There was a pause. “You’re such a pessimist. Opening the hatch now.”'
“Roger that,” answered the Captain. “Try not to fuck this up.”