“An action has a reaction, Varian. That's the first thing you learn shipboard.”
“Yes, because you're often in free-fall or outer space, so the first thing you'd have to learn, ship-bred, is to control yourself, your actions.”
“On a heavy world, though,” Bonnard was trying to rationalize so hard, Varian could almost hear him casting about for a justification. “On a heavy world, you would have struggle all the time, against the gravity.”
“Until you became so used to it, you wouldn't consider it a struggle. You'd be conditioned to it.”
“Can you be conditioned to violence?” Bonnard sounded appalled.
Varian gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Yes, Bonnard, you can be conditioned to violence. Millenniums ago, it used to be the general human condition.”
“I'm glad I'm alive now.”
To that Varian made no reply, wondering if she was in accord. In an earlier time, when people were still struggling to a civilized level that spurned the eating of animal flesh; to a level that had learned not to impose its peculiar standards on any other species; to a level that accepted, as a matter of course, the friendships and associations with beings diverse and wonderfuclass="underline" a woman of only three hundred years ago would have had some occasion to cope with utter barbarianism. It was one matter entirely for beasts to fight and kill each other, following the dictates of an ecology (not that she was prevented from succouring the weaker when she could), but for one species, stronger, more flexible, basically more dangerous because of its versatility, to attack a stupid animal for the sporting pleasure was unspeakably savage.
What were she and Kai to do about such behaviour? Again she wished she hadn't brought Bonnard. She'd been too clever, so she had, involving the boy. Perhaps scarring him with such evidence of wanton cruelty. But she hadn't expected anything like this when she thought of investigating Bakkun's special place. How could she? And once discovered, strong measures were indicated. Too late now to say that the heavy-worlders had been discreet in their vile pursuits. Too late to wish she'd never wanted to check into their activities.
On the other hand, such aberrant behaviour was better uncovered on a world where no other sentient species was compromised. She also found some measure of relief that the heavy-worlders had picked on the stupid herbivores and predators, rather than the lovely golden giffs. If they'd harmed them . . . Pure rage, such as she had never experienced before in her life, consumed her with an incredible force.
Startled, Varian composed her thoughts. She must discipline herself if she wanted to control others.
They were almost to the compound now, sweeping down the broad plain that led to their granite height. Varian found herself hoping that, for some unknown reasons, Kai had returned early. That was the trouble with bad news: it didn't keep. The intelligence was a sore weight in her mind, festering with speculation, such as what were the heavy-worlders doing right now?
She landed, reminding Bonnard to say nothing, even to Cleiti or Terilla, most certainly not to Gaber.
“You bet not Gaber,” said Bonnard with a smile. “He talks an awful lot but he says so little . . . unless he's talking about maps and beamed shots.”
“Wait a minute, Bonnard.” Varian motioned him back, wondering about the wisdom of involving him further. She glanced towards the shimmering force-screen, the dance of dying insects registering blue across the field. She tried to think, calmly, whether there was anyone else in the compound she could trust. Then she glanced back at the boy, standing easily, his head slightly cocked as he awaited her command. “Bonnard, I'm taking the power pack from this sled. When the other sleds come in, I want you to remove the packs – hide them in the underbrush if you can't bring them inside. If any one questions you, say that your chore is checking them for lead drains. Yes, That's logical. Do you understand me?” She was unclamping their sled's pack as she issued her instructions. “You know where the packs are in the smaller sleds? And how to remove them?”
"Portegin showed us. Besides, I just saw you do it." He gave her the hand-lift which she attached to the heavy power pack and heaved it from the sled. I'll just get another hand-lift."
She could see in his expression that he had more questions he was eager to ask as he followed her to the veil lock where Lunzie now stood to admit them. As they passed her, the woman looked at the power pack Varian was trailing.
“One of the leads is clogged,” Varian said.
“Is that why you're back so early? Good thing,” and Lunzie's usually solemn face broke into a wide grin. She gestured towards Dandy's pen. Trizein was leaning on the fencing, staring intently at the little creature who was, for a second marvel, peacefully munching at a pile of grasses, oblivious to the scrutiny.
“Trizein's out of his lab? What happened?”
“I'll let him tell you. It's his surprise, not mine.”
“Surprise?”
“Here, Bonnard, take the power pack from Varian and put it where it belongs . . .”
Varian indicated the shuttle to Bonnard, a gesture which brought a surprised glance from Lunzie.
“Well, then,” she said, “in the shuttle and come straight back. You'll want to hear about the probable ancestry of your pet, too.”
“Huh?” Bonnard was startled.
“Quick, to the shuttle with the pack.” Lunzie shooed him off with both hands. “The power pack leads, Varian? That's a bit lame, isn't it?”
“Varian! Has Lunzie told you?” Trizein had looked away from Dandy and seen her. “Why didn't anyone tell me? I mean, I can speculate possibilities from disembodied tissues, but this . . . creature from our prehistoric past . . .”
His words were diversion enough but the ringing tone in which he spoke made Varian move more quickly to him.
“Prehistoric past? What do you mean, Trizean?”
“Why, this little specimen is an excellent example of a primitive herbivore . . .”
“I know that . . .”
“No, no, my dear Varian, not just a primitive herbivore of this planet, but an Earth-type herbivore, of the group perissodactyl.”
“Yes, I know it's perissodactyl. The axis of the foot is through the middle toe.”
“Varian, are you being dense on purpose to tease me? This,” and Trizein gestured dramatically to Dandy, “is the first step in the genotype of the horse. He's a genuine hyracotherium, Earth type!”
The significance of Trizein's point gradually dawned on Varian.
“You're trying to tell me that this is not similar to an Earth-type horse, it is the lineal ancestor of an Earth-type horse?”
“That's exactly what I'm telling you. Not trying. Telling?”
“It isn't possible.” Varian said that flatly and her expression accused Trizein of teasing her.
Trizein chuckled, preening himself by straightening his shoulders as he beamed at each member of his small audience.
“I may seem to be the original absent-minded analytical chemist, but my conclusions are always provable: my experiments conducted efficiently and as expeditiously as equipment and circumstance allow. Lately I've been wondering if someone has been trying to fool me, to test my ability or my tendency to digress. I assure you that I do know when two totally different life forms are presented to me as co-existing on this planet. It is too bad of someone. And I inform you right now that I am aware of this subterfuge. All the tissues you and your teams have been giving me suggest a sufficient variety of creatures to populate several planets, not just one. Didn't the Ryxi bring their own technicians? Is there life on the Thek planet that I'm being given such diverse . . .”
“What about that animal tissue that Bakkun gave you about a week ago?” It was a chance but she wasn't surprised when Trizein answered her.
“Oh, yes, the cellular level is remarkably comparable. A vertebrate, of course, which checks to ten decimal places, mitotic spindle, mitochondria all quite ordinary in a hemoglobin based species. Like that fellow there!” And he jerked his thumb at Dandy. “Ah, Bonnard,” he said as the boy approached them. “I undertsand from Lunzie that you rescued the little fellow?”