The scenery shifted as Joshua complied, pausing occasionally as he pretended to look at some booth or other... and by the time he'd completed his circle Telek's odd feeling had become a cold certainty. "Moff is missing," she told Nnamdi quietly.
"What?" He frowned, hunching his chair closer to the display as if that would do him any good. "Come on, now-Moff doesn't even go to the bathroom unless the contact team's off in some corner where they won't get into anything."
"I know. Yuri; everyone-Moff's gone. Anyone know where he went or notice him leave?"
There was a short pause. Then, at the edge of the display, Telek saw Cerenkov raise a hand to his pendant. "I hadn't even noticed, Governor," he said.
"There're so many people around us here-"
"Which may be precisely why he picked this place," Telek cut him off with a grunt. "Has he said or done anything unusual this morning? Anyone?"
There were four quick negatives. "All right. Everyone keep an eye out for him, without being too conspicuous about it, and try to notice his expression when he shows up."
She turned off the mike and sat glaring for a moment at the noisy market scene.
"What do you think it means?" Nnamdi broke into her thoughts.
"Maybe nothing. I hope nothing. But I think I'm going to replay this morning's tapes, see if I can spot anything in Moff's behavior myself. Keep an eye on things; let me know if anything happens." Picking up her cahve, she stepped to an unused display in the corner and keyed for the proper records.
"Should we alert Almo and the bridge?" Nnamdi asked.
"The bridge, yes-but don't make too big a deal of it." She hesitated. "And
Almo... no, let's not bother him yet. There'll be plenty of time to talk to him when we've figured out what if anything is going on."
"Right."
Telek turned to her display. The semidarkness there was interrupted by a flickering light, the Qasamans' version of a wake-up alarm. Shifting one way and then the other, the picture changed as Joshua rolled over and then sat up. "Rise and glow, Marck," he said to Rynstadt in the other bed. "Busy day coming up."
"So what's new about that?" the other returned in a sleepy voice.
Groping blindly for her cahve mug, Telek settled down to watch.
Chapter 14
The blue skies of Tacta were just a shade redder than those of Chata and Fuson had been, Jonny thought idly as he paused from his contemplation of the bush forest that edged to within fifteen meters of the Menssana's perimeter. More dust in the upper atmosphere, the experts had decided, probably spewed there by the dozens of active volcanos their pre-landing analysis had located. A potentially dangerous place to live, though that could probably be minimized by judicious choice of homestead. The weather and climate could be subject to rapid change, though, regardless of where one settled. All in all, he decided, a distinct fourth on their five-planet survey.
Or in other words, Junca would be keeping its dead-last spot.
Returning his gaze to the bushes, he found a large bird sitting on one of the thicker branches looking back at him.
His first thought was disbelief that neither his enhanced vision nor hearing had detected its approach; but hard on the heels of that came the realization that the bird had probably been sitting there quietly for as long as Jonny had been standing there, its protective coloring and motionlessness serving to hide it.
"You're in luck," Jonny murmured in its direction. "I'm not in charge of collecting fauna samples."
A footstep behind him made him turn. It was Chrys, a vaguely sour look on her face. "Feel like being a politician again?" she asked without preamble.
Jonny flicked a look past her at the bustling activity in the protected area between them and the ship. "What's up?" he asked, focusing on her again.
She waved a hand in disgust. "The same fight they've been having since we hot-tailed it off Junca. The scientists want to take the time we didn't use there to go back for an additional look at Kubha or Fuson."
"And Shepherd wants to just drop the two days we saved out of the schedule and head back home as soon as we're done here," Jonny finished for her with an exasperated sigh. He was roundly sick of the whole issue, especially when
Shepherd's first refusal should have settled things long ago. "So what do you want me to do?"
"I don't want you to do anything," she returned. "But Rey seems to think you might be able to inject a few well-chosen words into the debate."
Put another way, Banyon wanted him to thunder the scientists back into their labs. Jonny had no doubts which side of the issue the Cobras supported-having been saddled with both the defense of the expedition and its hardest work, they were quite ready to head home as soon as possible. The four who were still in sickbay with injuries from the mad scramble off Junca probably held triple batches of that opinion.
And it would certainly be the easiest way to settle the debate. Jonny Moreau the
Cobra, Governor Emeritus, had more physical and legal authority than anyone else aboard, including Shepherd himself. He was opening his mouth to give in when he took a good look at Chrys's expression.
It was angry. She was trying to hide the emotion, but Jonny knew her too well to be fooled. The tension lines around her eyes, the slight pinch to her mouth, the tight muscles in cheeks and neck-anger, for sure. Anger and a smattering of frustration.
It was the same expression he'd seen on her far too often these past few years.
And with that sudden connection came the truly proper response to the Menssana's intramural squabbles. "Well, Key and the others can just forget it," he told her. "If Shepherd's too polite to chew the scientists' ears off he can just put up with their yammering. I'm on vacation out here."
Chrys's eyes widened momentarily; but even as a faint smile flickered across her lips the tension was leaving her face and body. "I'll quote you exactly," he said.
"Do that. But first take a look here," he added as she started to turn back toward the encampment. "It looks like we're starting to attract the local sightseers."
The bird was indeed still sitting quietly on its branch. "Odd," Chrys said, studying it through a pair of folding binoculars. "That beak looks more suited to a predator than to a seed or insect eater. The feet, too."
Jonny bumped his optical enhancers up a notch. They did rather look like condorine talons, now that she mentioned it. "What's odd about it? We've catalogued birds and rodentoids here small enough for it to prey on."
"I know... but why is it just sitting there? Why isn't it out hunting or something?"
Jonny frowned. Sitting motionlessly amid the low bushes... as if afraid of losing what little cover its position provided. "Maybe it's hurt," he suggested slowly. "Or hiding from a larger predator."
They looked at each other, and he saw in her eyes that she was following the same train of logic and reaching the same conclusion. And liking it no better than he did. "Like... us?" she eventually voiced the common thought.
"I don't see anything else it could be afraid of," he admitted, giving the sky a quick sweep.
"A ground animal-? No. Anything the size of a cat could get it in those low bushes." Chrys's eyes shifted to the bird. "But... how could it know-?"
"It's intelligent." Jonny didn't realize until he'd said the words just how strongly he was starting to believe them. "It recognizes we're tool-makers and aliens and is being properly cautious. Or is waiting for us to communicate."
"How?"
"Well... maybe I should go over to it."
Chrys's grip on his arm was surprisingly strong. "You think that'd be safe?"
"I am a Cobra-remember?" he growled with tension of his own. Contact with the unknown... his old combat training came surging back. Rule One: Have a backup.
Carefully, keeping the movements fluid, he pulled his field phone from his belt.
"Dr. Hanford?" he said, naming the only zoologist he knew to be close by, the only one he remembered seeing near the ship when Chrys came up a few minutes ago.