text: [Themes: sci-fi, mystery]
  
  You struggle to gain control over your reflexes so you can turn on your handlight. When you do, you find all of your companions infested with tiny, furry creatures. You shine the light on yourself and find you are no exception. Thousands more cling to the prairie grass, awaiting the opportunity to latch onto a passerby like some kind of furry tick.
  
  "What are these things?" Dansmith shouts. Hun-Spruk for once doesn't have an answer, as she is consumed by the effort to try and clear her body and clothing. The fur-ticks are seeking out your exposed skin and are latching on tightly. Are they drawing blood? Are they carrying alien pathogens to which you have no immunity?
  
  "Dr. Wildon," you say, "any idea what these things are up to? Do these things pose a health risk?" But he is too busy furiously trying to brush the fur-ticks off himself to provide a response.
  
  Your training tells you that you need to return to the Orion for decontamination, but that would probably mean the mission to find Dr. Munro will have to wait. On the other hand, if Dr. Munro is in the research blind just a short distance ahead of you, she may be able to help. It's a big gamble, but it might be better than simply cutting short your mission.
  
  > If you continue toward the research post, turn to page 199.
  There is no time for discussion. With dozens of fur-ticks crawling over your body and latching tightly onto your skin, you feel compelled to seek help from the nearest possible site. You run up the next knoll in the direction of the village, and your companions follow. When you reach the top, the village appears quite close ahead. Everyone is fighting the urge to shout in horror and pain, despite the fact that the fur-ticks are crowding onto your faces, looking for bare skin to latch onto. The harder you try to knock them off, the tighter their tiny claws grip your flesh.
  
  Hun-Spruk is making a valiant effort to use her WristComp to locate Dr. Munro's research blind, despite the fur-ticks crawling over her hands and her head. There is one last knoll before you reach the village, and your science officer starts to grope in the dark near its base for the entrance.
  
  None of you see the six tall figures standing on top of the knoll until they swoop down upon you. With fur-ticks partly obscuring your vision, you never get a clear look at the Folvan who swings you up over its shoulder. You are simply aware that you no longer have control as the being bounds over the knoll, your face so close to it that you can smell the herbal odor of its grass-fiber garment.
  
  You have no idea what route the Folvans took to get here, but a moment later you and your companions are plopped down on the ground in a room with earthen walls lit by oil lamps.
  
  > Page 84
  Only now, after the passage of several excruciating and terrifying minutes, do the fur-ticks start losing interest in you. Dozens of the little critters start dropping off you and your companions, although dozens more still remain. The ones that have released themselves scurry across the floor for a moment in what looks like a state of frantic confusion. In the lamplight they look like little ball-shaped gerbils, with stiff, bristling fur. They run across the floor aimlessly, and then one by one they come to a stop, their tiny claw-like feet curled in death.
  
  Did something inside of you cause their demise?
  
  The Folvans appear to be horrified--but not because of you. Their concern is clearly for the fur-ticks. You can't remember how many there were previously, but only three Folvans remain in the room now. All four of your companions are here as well, their panic receding as the fur-ticks drop off. But before you can speak with them to see if they're all right, you hear the sound of people approaching from outside the room.
  
  The only entrance you can see is a set of steps leading down from somewhere above, as if this room were a basement. The footsteps grow louder, and then several more Folvans come down the stairs and enter the room. Four of them appear younger than the others, which are taller and stand around the periphery of the room like authority figures.
  
  With a total of nine Folvans, five humans, and countless fur-ticks, this cellar has grown quite crowded.
  
  The young Folvans share the elders' concern for the fur-ticks. With a sense of urgency, they step past the dying creatures on the floor to you and your companions. They are gray-skinned and muscular, with over-sized legs that seemed built for sprinting, and with yellowed fingernails that must be well-adapted for slicing through the thick prairie grass.
  
  Their dark eyes are wide with apprehension as one by one they extend their thick fingers to each human, trying to entice the fur-ticks onto their bodies instead. It seems to be working; having found humans to be unsatisfactory, the remaining fur-ticks abandon you and your companions and become stimulated as they explore the Folvans' bodies.
  
  Once all of the fur-ticks have been lured off you, the four youths join hands in a circle.
  
  > Page 85
  The ticks seem to be doing to them what they did to you: latching onto the skin, drawing blood and puss. But rather than remaining in place the little balls of fur scamper onto the next host, repeating the process until after five or ten minutes they begin to drop off dead, joining the litter of corpses on the floor.
  
  Only then do the four young Folvans break their circle. They all still seem concerned, but relieved as well—assuming, of course, that you are reading these alien expressions correctly. None speak with their fleshy vocal sacs, which hang limp at their throats. The five older Folvans step aside as the four youths exit the room and climb the stairs.
  
  You look around at your companions. The fur-ticks all seem to be gone from your bodies, but not without leaving dozens of small bruises and spots of blood.
  
  Dansmith scoots closer to you as if he is about to say something, but before anything else happens the five remaining Folvans grab each of you by the arm and pull you to your feet. Only at that moment do you realize that each one has a plasgun holstered at its hip. You have to look twice, thinking maybe you misidentified the object, but there is no mistaking your observation: these technologically primitive people are armed as well as you are.
  
  But not for long, though, because the first thing they do when the five of you are standing is remove your own plasguns. These are then pointed at you as they march you up the stairs. At the top of the steps you find little more than an earthen shelter, with an arched passage leading out onto a dark street in the Folvan village.
  
  You realize that you are standing outside the large mound-like structure that you observed from the air, the one that stands at the center of the village. Everything else aside, it does feel good to be back in the fresh air; the moon is setting, and the sky is starting to grow light with the faintest glimmering of morning.
  
  The Folvans stop you in the middle of the street. You look at Dansmith and Hun-Spruk on either side of you, and both look as confused as you. Dansmith shrugs his shoulders. You appear to be waiting for someone. But it is not a long wait, because a moment later you hear more footsteps coming down a side street.
  
  And then Dr. Munro steps around the corner.
  
  > Page 86
  You recognize the doctor immediately, although in the darkness she doesn't recognize you. She has aged a bit since you last saw her four years ago; her hair is no longer the sandy-colored bob that you remember, but gray and held back in a long ponytail. She adjusts a robe, as if she were just roused from her sleep.
  
  "Astral Navy," she says, assessing your field uniforms. "Damn, I should have known."
  
  "Dr. Munro," you say, "we came looking for you."
  
  "I'll bet you did," she says, her tone suggesting she is displeased by your presence. "I can tell you that you haven't made any friends here tonight. If I know Skarahk here, je probably wants to execute you for your blasphemy."
  
  "Blasphemy?" Dansmith says.
  
  "That's how the word translates, yes," Dr. Munro says. "That reminds me." She reaches into her pockets but comes up empty.
  
  "Damn, I didn't bring my translator."
  
  The doctor steps up to one of the Folvans, who you notice is distinguished from the others because he is wearing a flat-topped cap, whereas the heads of the others are uncovered.
  
  "I will take them to my burrow," she says in exaggerated slowness, gesturing down the street. "I will figure out why they're here."
  
  The Folvan seems to understand, and it—he? these creatures appear almost androgynous, and you can't say with certainty if this is a male or female—nods its head slowly in ascent.
  
  Just then the comm unit attached to the back of your right ear starts to trill—the signal that you have an incoming message. Of all the times for the Orion to try and contact you, this moment seems pretty tense and unpredictable. After all, the Folvans are still holding you at gunpoint with your own plasguns. If you start talking with your ship, who knows how they will respond?
  
  But if you ignore the signal, Lieutenant Wyte will assume you're in trouble. Would that make the situation better or worse?
  
  > If you contact the Orion, turn to page 87.
  You try to accept the incoming message surreptitiously by touching the comm device attached to the back of your right ear. With luck you'll be able to communicate with the Orion without being noticed.
  
  "Lieutenant, what's happening down there?" It's Lieutenant Wyte, and he doesn't seem happy. "According to my scans, you're in the middle of the native village. And for a while I lost you altogether."
  
  There is no way to hide his voice. He is speaking so loud that the small, tinny transmission in your earpiece is audible to everyone present. "Are you in danger? Is your mission compromised? Please respond!"
  
  A hand yanks the comm forcefully from your ear. You turn to see the Folvan wearing the cap--Skarahk, as Dr. Munro called him a moment ago. He seems to have lost his patience with you. His throat sac partially fills with air, and he bleats out an incomprehensible series of noises. It must be orders to take you prisoner, because the other Folvans grab your teammates by the shoulders and start to steer all of you down the street.
  
  Lieutenant Hun-Spruk, being so tiny in comparison to the tall Folvan behind her, manages to break free. "Dr. Munro," she says, "what is going on here?"
  
  In the moment before you are shoved away, you see what looks like reluctance in Munro's expression. "Come here," she says to Hun-Spruk, and the two of them disappear down the side street. The Folvans let them go, focusing on you, Dansmith, Quabiss, and Wildon instead.
  
  This mission has been a disaster so far, and seems to be getting worse. Your teammates are looking to you for a sign of what to do next. There seem to be only two options: resist or obey.
  
  > If you resist the Folvans and try to break free, turn to page 62.
  Without hesitation you swirl and kick the plasgun out of your guard's hand. You are free, but you know the Folvan is still armed with its original plasgun, so you are still at a disadvantage.
  
  Dansmith and Quabiss follow your lead and manage to also release themselves from the grips of their captors, but Dr. Wildon has no such luck; his guard has only managed to strengthen its hold on your medic, and seems to be daring anybody to do something about it.
  
  Then you hear a loud voice: "Let them go, Skarahk! If you do anything to them, it will only bring you more trouble than you already have."
  
  It's Dr. Munro, holding a WristComp up to her mouth. The device repeats her words in the Folvan language as she speaks.
  
  The being who is holding Dr. Wildon looks to the leader for instruction, and Skarahk bleats out a response. "Let jim go," says the WristComp's translation.
  
  Skarahk tosses something at you, but in the dark you can't see what; the small object bounces off your chest and lands in the dusty ground. It's your comm unit.
  
  "Look, I don't know who you people are, but I strongly suggest you come with me," Dr. Munro says. "The Folvans are understandably uncomfortable with the thought of off-worlders running around their grazing grounds, so it's best not to provoke them. You've done enough already this morning."
  
  "Is there someplace we can go to have a private discussion?" you say. "You seemed ready to lead us somewhere a moment ago."
  
  "Yes, there is such a place," she says.
  
  "We'll follow you."
  
  "Very well. Try to keep quiet this time."
  
  With the five Folvans watching you intently, you follow the xenoanthropologist down the dark side street. Lieutenant Hun-Spruk is waiting just ahead.
  
  "Here is your WristComp back, Lieutenant," Dr. Munro says to her. "I'm pleased to see the Astral Navy has been putting my research to such effective use."
  
  Hun-Spruk doesn't respond as she refastens the device to her wrist, but you can tell she is bothered by all of these sudden turns in the direction of your mission.
  
  > Page 165
  You only have to follow the doctor a short distance before she stops before one of the smaller earthen mounds. "This is my place," she announces dryly. This is not the cheerful, optimistic Dr. Munro you remember from Giri Minor; something has happened to change her since she arrived on Folvan.
  
  Now that you have put some distance between you and the Folvans, you decide that you really do need to transmit a message to the Orion, especially after the failed attempt at communication a moment ago. You can't just leave the bridge hanging like that. On the other hand, this is not the time to get into a heated discussion with Aolin Wyte, so using your WristComp you select a standard text message to transmit to his station:
  
  All is well, please stand by.
  
  You know he won't buy it for a moment, but trying to interpret your true meaning will preoccupy your liaison for a few minutes.
  
  Your team is following Dr. Munro into her hut. You are curious to see what the inside of these small structures look like, especially now that you've met some of the inhabitants of the village. How can creatures so large live in such small, primitive huts? You expect to find a hollowed-out space inside the mound of dirt, which itself has grass growing atop it. But inside there is merely a passageway leading down into the ground.
  
  You follow Dr. Munro down a set of adobe-like steps into a dark space. But then your host lights a few oil lamps, and you see a rather interesting living space. The room has no vertical walls or right angles; it is an organic space carved out of the earth, lined with clay and sparsely furnished.
  
  "This is my flat," she says, possibly trying to be cheerfully ironic. "It's not much but the rent is free. I'd offer you a seat, but on Folvan the custom is to sit on the ground. I wasn't expecting so much company, so I'm afraid I don't have enough grass mats for everyone."
  
  Only Dr. Wildon seems interested in sitting. Quabiss, his suspicions on high alert after all that has just happened, never leaves the bottom step. Hun-Spruk, who a few hours ago told you that Dr. Munro was a personal hero, backs up against a wall and watches her hero quietly.
  
  Only you and Dansmith examine the surroundings more closely. The doctor's living space is quite Spartan, although you see additional passageways leading elsewhere from this room, suggesting that there may be an entire warren of corridors and rooms to explore. Presumably all of the Folvans live underground like this. Are these all private spaces, or do these burrows link with neighboring chambers?
  
  Your attention is attracted to a panel hanging on one wall. You assume it's a painting at first, but when you step closer to examine it you notice a distinct, pungent odor. The object looks almost like it was glazed with gelled animal fat, and within it are multiple black, ribbon-shaped creatures worming their way vigorously through the matter, like leeches swimming in a pond.
  
  "I see you're admiring my artwork," Dr. Munro says.
  
  "You made this?" you ask.
  
  "It's not finished yet," she says. "After a month of feeding, those dadeks will die off. And then by next winter their waste, which they are busily depositing all over the panel as we speak, will react with the mumpaq blubber. The denser areas will turn green, the rest will turn bright blue, and the constant motion of the dadeks will help swirl it all around. The resulting pattern is quite striking."
  
  You turn away from the panel; it doesn't sound like art to you, but a rather disgusting biological process.
  
  But Dr. Munro seems to be seeing you for the first time now. "Why do you look so familiar, Lieutenant?" she says.
  
  "Giri Minor," is all you say.
  
  Her eyebrows raise.
  
  "Oh." Her reaction is like she just encountered a ghost from her past.
  
  > Page 171
  "So I suppose that makes us old friends?" she continues. She places out several mats of woven grass on the floor, but then sits on a step that leads into one of the other rooms. None of those side rooms are on the same plane as this main room, apparently, because none of the passageways leading out of here are horizontal; there would be no way to leave this chamber without stepping either up or down a set of stairs.
  
  "Come, sit," your host says. "I insist."
  
  Hun-Spruk cautiously takes a mat to Munro's side, perhaps figuring it will be a good place from which to observe the researcher without being conspicuous. You wonder if your science officer is reassessing Dr. Munro's hero status.
  
  "So tell me about your time on Folvan," Munro says. "How long have you been here? What have you seen?"
  
  "Frankly, we haven't been here long," you say. "Star Base Ishtria dispatched the Starship Orion after they lost contact with you. We were sent to determine your condition and render whatever assistance necessary."
  
  "So you landed about a kilometer south of here and made a beeline to my old research post. And wandered straight into a patch of gribbets along the way. You should see yourselves. You all look like you lost a fight with a phlebotomist."
  
  "Gribbets," Dansmith says from the corner of the room. "Is that what you call those little beastly bastards?"
  
  "You think they were attacking you, don't you?" she says.
  
  "Well yes," Dr. Wildon says. "As you say, just look at us."
  
  "You don't know the first thing about this world," Dr. Munro says. "You play around on your Gravity Gym for a few days and you think that prepares you for an entirely new world. But you haven't a clue, really, do you?"
  
  "So then what were those gribbets trying to do, if not draw blood?" you say. By now it's become abundantly clear what her new trait is since you last saw her: cynicism.
  
  "Well OK yes, they were certainly trying to draw blood," she says. "But attack? No. They weren't trying to attack you; they were trying to cross-pollinate you."
  
  "But we aren't exactly flowers," Dansmith says, returning her dry tone.
  
  "My dear Chief..."
  
  "Dansmith," he says. "Jod Dansmith."
  
  "Mr. Dansmith, there are no flowers on Folvan, not as we know them. Gribbets don't pollinate plants. They pollinate people."
  
  "So those young Folvans that helped remove the... gribbets from us, they are now 'pollinated'?" Dr. Wildon says.
  
  "Is that what Skarahk did? Brought in the juveniles?" Dr. Munro says. "Then yes, if you didn't mess up the process too much, whoever the gribbets exchanged genetic material with will hopefully be impregnated. Internal gestation here lasts five months. But I wouldn't worry about yourselves, though. Humans aren't compatible with the process."
  
  She pauses. "What you do need to worry about is the fact that you interfered with what the Folvans regard as a sacred process. Had the village elders not been able to salvage the gribbets, there might not have been any others this season. And thus there would've been no newborns this year."
  
  > Page 172
  "Dr. Munro, how long have you been living in this village?"
  
  The question comes from an unexpected quarter for the doctor: Lieutenant Hun-Spruk, sitting to the side and slightly behind her. It is a pointed question intended to catch Dr. Munro in a lie.
  
  But she replies simply, "Two weeks." Turning back to you, Dr. Munro says, "So you stepped off your shuttle, passed through the gribbet patch, and you were brought straight here?"
  
  "Yes, pretty much," you say.
  
  And then turning to Chief Dansmith she says, "And you're a technician. So you came here thinking there was a technical malfunction with my communication equipment? And like the shining knights you are, you came here to help us fix it?"
  
  "Yes, ma'am," Dansmith says, uncharacteristically formal.
  
  "Well I can assure you there is nothing wrong with my equipment," she says. "As you can see, the situation here has changed, and I don't think it would be in your best interests if I told you why. But can you do me a favor? I need you to relay a message to Admiral Orange Stackhouse on Star Base Ishtria that I will be in direct contact with him soon. I have some important information for him, but it will be for his ears only."
  
  "Um, I suppose we can do that," you say. Obviously there is something here she is glad you didn't find out on your own. But by framing it as a security clearance issue, she knows you are trained not to pry any deeper.
  
  "Thank you," she says. "I very much appreciate it."
  
  Dr. Munro stands up. "Now I really think it's best if you all get going. It will be sunrise in a few minutes, and if I understand naval procedure correctly, a shuttle is being dispatched right about now to look for the people who have been looking for me. You've been in and out of contact with your ship down here in these burrow chambers, so your minders up on that starship of yours have been getting worried. Don't you think it would be best if the five of you went out onto the prairie to meet them? It would save our friend Skarahk the trouble of having to deal with your shipmates jimself."
  
  You look at your companions. Hun-Spruk looks particularly bitter, Dansmith and Wildon seem completely confused as to what just transpired in this room, and Quabiss seems anxious to leave. As for yourself, you get the strong sense that you're being played. But the only way to determine that now is to have Captain Ynthramanni get in touch with Admiral Stackhouse.
  
  In the meantime, however, it does appear that you've accomplished your mission, so you follow Dr. Munro's lead and stand up too. "I was hoping to meet your husband again," you say, hoping for one last chance to fish for information. "How is Ander doing?"
  
  "He is doing well," is all she says.
  
  "And your research assistants?" Hun-Spruk adds. "Aro Tligman and Emman Theep? Are they here too or is it just you?"
  
  For the first time Dr. Munro seems anxious, like maybe you know more than you're letting on. But it's just a brief moment. "Aro and Emman are honeymooning right now. I think it's best to let them have their privacy."
  
  > Page 173
  Dr. Munro escorts you up the stairs back to the Folvan street, where indeed daylight has arrived. "The people here will be waking up soon, so while I would love to chat some more I think it's best all around if you leave right away. Your landing site was in that direction," she says, sawing her hand through the air to the south.
  
  "You fooled the Folvans once when you landed here this morning," she adds, "but they will be watching for incoming spacecraft more closely now, so you have no time to lose if you want to meet your shuttle first."
  
  "Thank you, Dr. Munro," you say. "This has been a most interesting experience."
  
  "Remember, make sure Admiral Stackhouse gets the message," she says. "Bye. See you soon."
  
  You lead the way down the empty street, eager to finally discuss the details of everything that has happened openly with your team, but you stop when you see Skarahk watching you from the next intersection—almost as if he never moved from the spot where you last saw him. Scratch the word "him"—where you last saw jim, whatever Dr. Munro meant by her peculiar use of all those unfamiliar pronouns.
  
  The five of you proceed past the stern village elder, keeping quiet as you turn onto the street leading south out of the village. A margin of cropped grass extends outward from the last hut into the prairie, and then you pause with trepidation for a moment at the edge of the wild, uncut vegetation before stepping into it once again. The process of walking through the grassland proves to be equally arduous in daylight, and given the events of the last few hours you are even more fraught with anxiety.
  
  But at least you are now out of earshot of anyone in the village, so perhaps a good discussion will help distract everyone. "Did anyone here get the sense that Dr. Munro wasn't telling the truth?" you say.
  
  "I think the only truthful thing she told us the entire time was her name," Dansmith says. "But we did what we came here to do. Our mission was to find four lost xenoanthropologists. We found one of them, and she refused our assistance. I'm not sure what else we were supposed to do."
  
  "Lieutenant Hun-Spruk, you've been awfully quiet," you say.
  
  "Everything about this was wrong," she says. Her former nervousness seems to be creeping back into her voice. "I think she's been here for a lot longer than two weeks."
  
  "Then what about all those mission logs you read?" you read.
  
  "The woman lied to us," Hun-Spruk says. "Whether it was in that room, or in her logs, I don't think it matters. I'm not sure I could believe anything she says, to be honest." As she says this, you remember the moment in the mission briefing when Hun-Spruk says she based her graduate thesis on Dr. Munro's work.
  
  "I guess it will be up to Admiral Stackhouse now," Dr. Wildon says. "We can relay the message like she asked, but don't ever expect to learn what the big secret about this place is."
  
  " 'Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die,' " Dansmith says.
  
  But before you can comment on the chief's poetic sensibility, you see the shuttles coming in for a landing ahead of you—Hinju's ship, and another one freshly dispatched from the Orion, almost exactly as Dr. Munro predicted. You find a spot where you will be plainly visible standing waist-deep in the grass, and then you transmit a signal to let the pilots find you more easily.
  
  And as you wait with your team members to be delivered from this strange place with its oppressive gravity, you start thinking ahead to the mission report you will inevitably need to submit, and the nagging sensation that all of the information you were provided this morning consisted of lies and half-truths—all of it intended to satisfy your mission requirements and prevent you from learning what was really going on here on the Grass Planet.