I considered it. Duke only called me "son" when he thought something was important and he wanted me to listen harder than usual.
"Let's head back," I said.
"I thought you'd agree." He pointed. "It's that way."
"You lead," I said. I fell in behind him.
Our path wound back through the bushes. I didn't remember making this many twists and turns
Suddenly, Duke stopped and pointed ahead. "Look-"
Our path had been crisscrossed again and again by paddlefoot tracks, until our original prints were no longer visible. Something had been following behind us. "Urk-" I said.
Duke swung the torch around slowly, covering the bushes on all sides. "Well... now they know that we know." His eyes narrowed behind his goggles. "If they're going to attack, now's the time. "
"Well let's not stand here talking about it. Let's keep going!"
"Just a minute-" Duke pulled a small plastic disc off his belt. "We're going to need the beeper." He studied it for half a second, then pushed off at a new angle. "Follow me."
The dust was coming down heavier now. We could see it floating in like snowflakes. The particles were bigger now-big pink clumps, turning as they drifted. They looked like dandelions. I reached out to catch one as it floated down. It disappeared when it touched my hand-it puffed into dust and was gone, it was that light.
"We're in the thick of the storm," I said.
"Uh huh-and the wind is rising. We'd better hurry. We'll be at the limit of our masks soon."
I nodded and followed him. The visibility was getting worse. I couldn't see more than twenty yards ahead of us.
"Jim, it's getting deeper. You'd better start freezing again."
"Right." I came up even with Duke and sprayed a quick cold cloud of chill ahead. The liquid nitrogen looked like steam when it hissed into the air. The dust crackled and broke as we moved through it. The frozen crust beneath crunched.
Duke checked his beeper and pointed. I moved ahead and sprayed again. We moved forward cautiously.
"You think they can attack in this dust?" I asked.
"It's their natural element," Duke said. "And they don't seem to have any trouble moving around in it. I won't feel safe till we're back in the chopper." He checked his beeper. "More to the left, Jim. We should be almost to the slope-"
"Urk-"
"What's that?"
I stopped and pointed. Duke came up behind me and peered through the pink gloom.
There were three of them.
They looked like flop-eared bunnies. Or puppydogs. They had little squat bodies covered with frosty pink fur. I couldn't tell if that was just the dust or if it was their natural color.
They seemed to have large round faces and short, blunt muzzles. The pink frosting that covered everything made it hard to tell. Their noses and mouths were invisible, and their eyes were narrowly slitted against the powdery dust. They were thoroughly covered with it; they stood waist deep in the bright powder. They looked like little Chinese bunnies in a cotton candy factory.
Bunny ears. Puppy faces. Not my idea of aliens from space. Certainly not my idea of a Chtorran intelligence.
I couldn't tell if they were friendly, hostile, or just curious. But they were staring at us. There was no question that we were the focus of their attention.
I looked at Duke-and then looked past Duke in horror. Five more of the little bunnydogs were just creeping up behind us.
I whirled around-there were more of them just coming out of the bushes behind me. They were coming out on all sides of us, too many to count.
There were bunnydogs to the left of us, bunnydogs to the right of us-
We were surrounded.
FIFTEEN
DUKE SPOKE first. "Well..." he said, very softly, "here's another fine mess you've gotten me into."
I looked over at him. "I must say, you're taking it rather well." Duke ignored the remark. He was studying the bunnydogs, trying to figure out which one was the leader.
He said, "You're supposed to be a scientist. What's the Chtorran word for friend?"
"The only Chtorran word I know translates out as 'lunch."'
"Better not," Duke said. "Not until we know what these things eat."
"Well ... they're not herbivores," I said.
"How do you know that?"
"Their eyes are on the front of the head. Predators need stereoscopic vision for tracking prey. Prey animals need their eyes on the sides of their head for avoiding predators. At least, that's how it happened on this planet. I could be wrong. But... if they're meat-eaters, then there's also a potential for intelligence."
"Why?"
"How much brains does it take to sneak up on a blade of grass?" I replied. I'd credit the joke later.
Duke considered the idea and nodded. During all this, the bunnydogs still hadn't moved. They just sat and stared at us.
I added, "Pray that these things are omnivores. According to the Cohen models, intelligence develops first in hunters, but it survives in creatures who aren't totally dependent on the hunt."
"So?" Duke asked, "Are we in trouble here or not?"
"Well ... they're not carrying any weapons. If they're intelligent, then they could be just as curious about us as we are about them."
Duke turned slowly, studying the circle of little pink eskimothings. They were remarkably patient little creatures. Duke said slowly, "You may be making a false assumption here, Jim."
I turned in the opposite direction, also studying. "What's that?" I asked.
"You're assuming that these things are sentient. What if they're not? What if this is just a wolf pack?"
The idea startled me. Duke was right. I'd been anthropomorphizing the bunnydogs from the very first sighting. I'd just naturally assumed that anything with a humanoid form would have to be intelligent. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"Apologize later. Let's get out of here first."
One of the bunnydogs moved then. He shifted his squat to one side, and languidly began to scratch his ear with a hind leg. For a moment he looked just like a fat little puppy. Dammit! These things were too cute to be dangerous!
I looked at Duke. "Still think this is a wolf pack?"
"No more assumptions," he cautioned. He started forward, crunching through the still-frozen powder. Parts of it had started to thaw and were turning muddy. I could hear his boots squelching in the ooze. He took three steps and stopped. The two bunnydogs directly ahead of him stood up, gobbling excitedly and fluttering their hands. Duke glanced at me-what now?
The two bunnydogs looked at each other. They began to gobble at each other like baritone chipmunks. One of them took a hop and a half closer to the other and began gesturing like a little cheerleader. He gabbled and squeaked at his companion. He wrung his hands-they were tiny monkey paws. He put his fists together and shook them as if he were making a martini. He hopped up and down, raising large clouds of pink powder around them both. At one point, he even grabbed his cheeks and pulled them out sideways in a grotesque comical grimace.
His companion made a funny expression and gabbled something back. It looked like a disagreement. He waved both his fists over his head and made nattering noises. He thumped his feet in the dust, sending up an even larger cloud of pink smoke.
The first bunnydog flounced its displeasure. He reached over and pinched his companion's cheeks. He pulled and stretched them into a sideways expression. When he let go, we could almost hear them snap back into place. The second bunnydog was unimpressed. He shook his fingers at the first, waving them like little tentacles.
It was turning into an argument. The pitch and tempo of their voices began to rise, like a recording being speeded up. Then abruptly the argument was over. The two bunnydogs began to make up like a pair of lovers. They touched each other's hands and faces, cooed like doves, glanced at us once, nuzzled each other's cheeks, chittered for a moment longer-but in quieter tones now-then finally turned to face us again.