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"Principal god of the Baltic Slavs, about three thousand years ago. Guy Vindinho dug it out of the 'Encyclopedia of Mythology. Svantovit was represented as holding a bow in one hand and a horn in the other." "Well, that fits. What will we call the natives; Svantovitians, or Svantovese?" "Well, Paul wanted to call them Svantovese, but Luis persuaded him to call them Svants.
"Poodly-doodly-oodly-foodle," she said. "You saw how far we didn't get this afternoon. All we found out was that none of the standard procedures work at all." She made a tossing gesture over her shoulder. "There goes the book; we have to do it off the cuff from here." "Suppose we make another landing, back in the mountains, say two or three hundred miles south of you," Vindinho said.
Like Gofredo, Vindinho must have gotten into the Service on tiptoe; he had a bald dome and a red beard, and he always looked as though he were gloating because nobody knew that his name was really Rumplestiltskin. He had been watching the contact by screen. He lifted his glass toward Meillard. "Over the hump, Paul?" Meillard raised his drink to Vindinho. "Over the first one.
The central screen was a two-way, tuned to one in the officers' lounge aboard the Hubert Penrose, two hundred miles above. In it, also provided with drinks, were Captain Guy Vindinho and two other Navy officers, and a Marine captain in shipboard blues.
"It's not right to keep the rest aboard two hundred miles off planet, and you won't be wanting liberty parties coming down where you are." "The country over there looks uninhabited," Meillard said. "No villages, anyhow. That wouldn't hurt, at all." "Well, it'll suit me," Charley Loughran, the xeno-naturalist, said. "I want a chance to study the life-forms in a state of nature." Vindinho nodded.
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