Free The Sails of Tau Ceti by Michael McCollum

chatter.
    “All right, Starhopper . You are free to descend,” the chief controller radioed.
    “Thank you, Control,” came the voice of the Phobos’ most experienced approach pilot. “Beginning the descent now!”
    There were a series of sparks low on the western horizon where the pyramid shaped interstellar booster hovered. For a long time nothing seemed to happen. Slowly, the gap between booster and horizon began to grow. Over the next ten minutes, Starhopper climbed the sky. The sparks came again as the booster was silhouetted against the ruddy orb of Mars. Attitude control jets fired from a dozen places around the body of the main booster, giving the impression of a set of anti-collision lights flashing in unison. The two hundred-meter wide truncated pyramid rotated about its yaw axis in response.
    Kit had a momentary case of the jitters as she found herself gazing directly into the gaping maw of the booster’s powerful engines. Should those light off, everyone within line-of-sight would be instantly vaporized. Kit shook off the morbid thought. Tory Bronson knew all there was to know about the booster and she was standing calmly not ten meters away.
    The small reaction jets flared again and Starhopper began its descent. With the red planet as a backdrop, the booster was enormous.
    Starhopper continued its slow descent. The port pilot was taking no chances with the only vessel in the Solar System able to catch the alien starship. Three times, he fired the reaction jets to slow the pyramid’s fall. Then, two meters above the field, he fired them for a few seconds. Blue-white exhausts splashed down onto Phobos’ rocky surface. Then the jets were silent and Starhopper began to fall.
    It took all of five minutes for the booster’s landing feet to contact the field. As it grounded, a slight shiver went through the structure. Throughout the landing, the general comm circuit had been unnaturally quiet. The silence was suddenly broken as dozens of spectators exhaled heavily and resumed breathing.
    “All monitors. Secure the booster,” the chief controller ordered. “Let’s get it tied down now!”
    Atop the instrument package, a single vacsuited figure unstrapped and began to clamber down the structure like a child moving across a jungle gym. This was the port pilot. He carried with him the control box that had allowed him to manually operate the booster’s attitude jets. He ignored the vacuum monkeys who were busily tying down the craft.
    “All secure,” came the report from the chief monitor after cables were slipped through padeyes inset into the rocky plain and made taut. A moment after the announcement, other figures went to work unbolting the small instrument package from the two massive booster stages below it.

CHAPTER 6
    Professor Elias Guttieriz had finished teaching for the day. It had been difficult to concentrate on ancient Phoenician dialects and their effect on the speech patterns of North Africa when he had so much else on his mind. Still, Guttieriz had only lost his place once while wading through the prepared lecture. He considered that an accomplishment. He was halfway to his office when he was overtaken by an excited student aide from administration.
    “Sir, the chancellor wants to see you in his office right away!” the breathless student exclaimed.
    Guttieriz, who had been expecting the summons, merely nodded. He gestured for the student to lead the way and both of them moved off in the gliding motion that is the most efficient means of locomotion on Luna. Guttieriz was a small man with black hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and an incipient paunch. He knew his looks were far from impressive. It was enough that several influential papers on the fundamental structure of human language had earned him his reputation as the Solar System’s preeminent linguist.
    “Ah, Eli!” the chancellor exclaimed as Guttieriz entered his office. “Come in and sit. Drink?”
    Guttieriz moved to the