A few hours later, they found Otaga. And then, a few hours after that, they found the rest of her. Peniakov rushed for the ship, and made it by a matter of seconds. After a few minutes, he emerged from the toilet, coughing and wiping his mouth.
"What could do that?", he asked wildly, his stomach still churning. "There was hardly anything left! It was horrible! Horrible!"
"Maybe one of those?" replied McFee, looking out of the viewport. The others rushed to his side and stared at the elegant machine that stood about a mile away. As they watched, this vision of chrome and blue started moving. But almost before the eye had time to register the motion, it had vanished. "Cool", murmered McFee under his breath. The ecologist's head snapped round, his eyes blazing.
"Cool? Cool? That thing - or something like it - just killed one of us! Do you know how experienced Diane was? Fifty missions, and never a step without making sure it was safe. She was an expert, a survivor, and that thing just . . . just crushed her. And you think it's cool?" Peniakov was almost screaming, when Sorensen cut him off with a brief motion of her hand.
"Calm down, Sergei. That won't help. If those things are as fast as they look, maybe it never even saw Diane. It could have been a simple accident," she said calmly. "We need more information. Seismic scans, chemical analysis of the atmosphere, ground probing radar, the works. I want to know what every grain of sand on this planet looks like."
"Black and sticky," muttered McFee as he left for the laboratory.