"And if I don't go you may never find out why male mojos rape their females,"
Pyre said quietly. "Not to mention why the tarbines ride bololins. Or for that matter, why the bololins are so hard to keep out of cities."
Telek looked at Christopher and Nnamdi. "Well?" she demanded. "Say something, you two. Tell him he's crazy."
The two scientists exchanged glances and Christopher shrugged uncomfortably.
"Governor, we're here to learn everything we can about this place," he said, his eyes not meeting either Telek's or Pyre's. "I agree it's dangerous... but Almo's right about the bololins probably not getting this close again."
"And he is a Cobra," Nnamdi put in.
"A Cobra." Telek almost spat the word. "And so he's invulnerable to accidents and snake bites?" She dropped her eyes to the city display.
For a moment there was silence. "We have survival packs already made up," Pyre said quietly. "One would suffice for a week; I can take two. There are laser comm setups I could use to keep in touch from the woods without the Qasamans catching on. I've seen biological field analyzers being used; I'm sure I can set one up for you or even run it a little myself if necessary. And I could take a couple of small freeze boxes if you wanted a whole tarbine to study later."
She shook her head, eyes still on the screen. "You're Cobra team leader. Do what you like."
Which was not exactly enthusiastic support, but Pyre would have to take what he could get. The bololins were barely minutes away. "Michael, Dorjay-two survival packs and laser comm to the port cargo hatch; stat," he said into the intercom.
The two Cobras acknowledged and Pyre left the lounge at a fast jog, heading for his stateroom for a quick change into more suitable clothing. There was a boxed bio field analyzer down in the cargo hold; he could grab it on his way out. The hatch itself, facing away from the city, should let him out into the ship's shadow unseen. At that point he would just have to hope the bololins were indeed running deliberately along magnetic field lines... and that the runways were as dusty as they looked.
He was in the cargo hold three minutes later. A minute after that, laden like a pack cart, he was crouching outside, hugging the Dewdrop's hull as he moved toward the bow. The rumble of the bololins was audible without his enhancers now, and a quick glance under the Dewdrop's nose showed they were indeed on the projected path, one that would take the herd's flank within fifty meters of the ship. Behind the first few ranks the dust was already beginning to obscure the city beyond, and it was getting thicker. Taking a deep breath, Pyre gave the edge of the forest a quick scan and got ready to run.
The leading edge of the herd thundered by. Pyre let the next few ranks pass as well; and then he was off, running bent over to present as low a profile as possible. Equipment banging against back and thighs with each step, he traced a curved path that ended with him pacing the snuffling herd barely a meter from its flank.
It was instantly obvious the nearest bololins didn't care for his presence. One or two veered at him as they ran, horns hooking toward his side; but even without his programmed reflexes he was more maneuverable than the massive beasts and evaded them without trouble. More troublesome-and unexpected-were the two-meter-long whiplash tails no one had noticed. If the first such blow hadn't landed across his backpack it would undoubtedly have left a painful welt or even torn muscle. As it was, his nanocomputer had to take over servo control briefly to restore his balance.
But it was only a few more seconds to the edge of the forest, and as the herd passed the first few trees Pyre parted company with them, angling off to the side and coming to a stop only when a glance behind showed nothing but greenery.
For a long moment he just stood there, turning slowly around as his auditory and optical enhancers probed as much of the surroundings as possible. Gradually the sound of the bololins faded into the distance, to be replaced by the chirps, clicks, and whistles of birds, insects, and God alone knew what else. Small animals moved in trees and undergrowth, and once he thought he heard something much heavier on the prowl.
It was just barely possible that this hadn't been the smartest idea he'd ever had.
But there was nothing for it now but to go ahead and do the job he'd promised
Telek he would. Setting his equipment at the base of a tree, he made sure his auditory enhancers were on full and got to work.
Chapter 11
"If ever there was a world designed for colonization," Captain Shepherd said with satisfaction, "this is definitely it."
Gazing around the gray-brown landscape, Jonny had to agree. Whatever the mechanism that had scoured this region of space down to nucleic acids, it was clear Kubha had suffered more than most. Nothing but the most primitive life existed here: one-celled plants and animals, and perhaps a few hundred species of only slightly more complex organisms. A virtual blank slate, ready to accept whatever ecological pattern any future colony chose to set up on it.
Any pattern, that is, that could stand the heat.
A young biologist trudged up the knoll where Jonny and Shepherd were standing, a full rack of sample tubes held carefully to his chest. "Captain; Governor," he nodded, blowing a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose. "Thought you might be interested in seeing the preliminary compatibility test results before I file them."
Jonny hid a smile as he and Shepherd stooped to peer into the tubes at the various mixes of native and Aventinian cells. At Chata, at Fuson, and now at
Kubha, the scientists had never ceased their efforts to persuade Shepherd to grant them more time for sample taking and general study, and getting him interested in the results was just one of the more subtle approaches. It wouldn't work, of course; the Council had made it very clear that this was to be a whirlwind tour, and Shepherd took his orders very seriously.
"Interesting," the captain nodded, straightening up from his brief examination.
"Better get them to the freeze chamber, though, if you want time to gather any more. We're lifting in about two hours."
A hint of chagrin crossed the biologist's face before it could be suppressed.
"Yes, sir," he said, and headed toward the Menssana.
"You're a cold-blooded taskmaster without a drop of scientific curiosity; did you know that?" Jonny asked blandly.
Shepherd's lip quirked. "So I've been told. But the Council said a fast prelim study, and that's exactly what they're going to get. Besides, I want to be back when the Dewdrop arrives, just in case-"
"Hi, Chrys," Jonny interrupted, turning as his wife came up to join them. His enhanced hearing had picked up the sound of her footsteps, and the last thing he wanted to remind her of was the Dewdrop sitting on alien soil with two of her sons aboard. "What do you think?" he added, waving a hand at the landscape.
"Too empty for my tastes," she said, shaking her head. "Seems spooky, somehow.
And I'm not crazy about pan-frying my brain out here." She gave Jonny a careful look. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he told her, and meant it. "The heat's not only helping my arthritis, but also seems to be pushing my heart rate and circulation up enough to compensate a bit for my anemia."
"Which means you're going to trade anemia for a heart attack?" Shepherd grunted.
"Great. Maybe you'd better get back inside until we're ready to lift, Governor."