"Arnold." she said to the balding manager, "what is the name of that liqueur we had at me Hunt dinner last Wednesday?"
"Chartreuse, Mrs. Bullitt. Chartreuse."
"That's it," she said, and then to Colin. "Make it chartreuse."
And suddenly beside Colin, Ed was laughing and he didn't seem able to stop. "A chartreuse horse. A flying, flaming, chartreuse horse."
And in the open air of the street Ed was still gasping. "Oh, a chartreuse horse."
"Why not? A chartreuse horse is just as logical as a flying one."
Ed went off in another fit of laughter. "Logic. Oh, my aching… logic. He's talking about logic-'* But logic was what they used at first. Logic and Colin's wild idea to start with a living animal that already flew. "It's a cosmetic problem now. Not engineering. It doesn't have to be a horse, it just has to look like a horse."
Weight against size. Colin thought of fish that could distend themselves with air. There was large size with small weight. He thought of a litter of fox terrier pups he'd once handled. Ail were solid, chunky, heavy in the hand. All but one. The same size, but lighter than the others, so much so that his hand had come up unexpectedly when he'd picked it up- It died, but it had been lighter.
They slept in the University dorm, ate in the cafeteria, and they worked. Together at first, then, as time pressed them and there was stil! not a glimmer of success, they worked separately to spread their investigations.
They worked with the cells of birds. Searching for size without weight. Speeding the development of their dividing cells as much as they dared, projecting the rest of me development by computer when they had even a tentative pattern to program, guessing at more than they should have.
Anything, anything at all, that was large and could lift itself from the ground. That to start and the hope of plastic surgery, transplants, for the rest.
Nothing. Not a thing.
Sixty days. Mrs. Bullitt. A reckoning… and a reprieve.
Not of their asking, but of her brother-in-law's, the Dean's, pleading for them, for more time.
A reprieve. A reprieve and a new contract. A contract the Dean walked out of the room and would not watch them sign.
Sixty days- No more. And this time a cash penalty. Added.
If they fail, they must reimburse the University in full for the loss.
They seldom saw each other now, Colin and Ed. They slept when they could, worked when they could, ate if they could. Ed was trying irradiated cells now. Gathering them from wherever he could.
"Sure it's as subtle as a shotgun," he'd said, "but nothing alive today is of any help to us. We've got to come up with something new."
"That is a typical panic response," Colin said.
"What else have we got left but panic?" Ed wanted to know.
And then one bleary afternoon Colin came awake in the dorm to Ed's shaking him. "Wake up," Ed was saying, excited. "I think I've got a lizard that's trying to make like a bird."
Colin tried to shake the weariness out of his eyes. "A lizard?"
"Yes, I got to thinking about how birds and reptiles are distantly related, so I went over to the reptile house, picked up what ceils 1 could, brought them back and set them up to be bombarded. This one projected pretty light for its size so I let it develop. Just now it tried to attack me."
He held up a hand, the edge of it was bleeding. "It ran on its hind legs and took off right into the air at me, its front ones going like crazy. So help me, Cotin, I think it was trying to fly."
It was a lizard all right, nondescript brown, the size of a small dog, sitting on its haunches. And Ed was right, it did look as though it was trying to fly when it leaped for their throats and struck its teeth at their padded arms instead.
They took what cells they might need from it and, because it was so patently vicious, they destroyed it.
Cells died. That was expected. Others went awry and were destroyed. But one. One cell developed well and its tapes projected well. Sleek reptile head forming. Earless. No problem. Ears are easy to form and attach later. Front legs shaping up as true wings now, clawed toes long, well membraned. Transplant leg buds from another developing cell to chest of prime animal and hope musculature will develop enough to support them.
Compatability of tissue no problem. After all, aren't they actually all from the same animal?
Coloring a bonus feature, though. They did not work for it, did not plan it, but their animal seemed to be developing a greenish, golden cast to its sleek skin. Ed laughed. "She might have her chartreuse horse after all."
And the tension. The unholy tension. Out of its tank for days now, still won't eat, but seems to be doing well on penetra-dermal regimen. And as light, beautifully light as the tapes had predicted.
University gym. Transmitting implants in position, tapes set up, monitoring screen ready. Long tether. Running, on hind legs like predecessor, wings spread. Glide, not true flight, a glide. Too weak yet, too undeveloped. More plastic work needed on that reptile head. Teeth also, still too carnivorous-looking for a horse. Glad this one is docile, not like its pappy. Tushes- Remember tushes. After all. he is supposed to be a male horse, you know. Why won't it eat?
They were working together now, but exhilarated. Intuition mostly, no mapping. Pointless. To map, you needed the developed animal to see what its genes would become. And if they did manage to develop one to suit Abby Bullitt, what was the need for a map?
More trials. Flying now. Really flying, no tether, comes when whistled for, obeys hand signals too. Open air, too large for gym now, needs open air. Try it tomorrow. Call Mrs. Bullitt.
University Field. Clear, beautiful day. They'd produced a magnificent animal.
Golden green in color. Its natural position at rest seemed to be sitting on its haunches, front feet resting on the ground; the claws had fused into very acceptable-looking hoofs. Its great wings not folded flat and down against me body, but carried high so that their tops, the leading bony edges curving gracefully behind its head and high arched neck, gave it a remotely haloed look.
The tail, although Colin could not see it from this angle, was not like a horse's, and not like a lizard's either, but flat and used like an airfoil. A handsome beast, and, holding it by the bridle it had learned to wear, Colin was at once proud yet fearful of it. Made uneasy by the look in its eyes of waiting, of a biding of time. Where is thai Bullitt woman?
She came, and riding a horse, Ed swore and reached to help Colin hold their animal's bridle, but it did not shy. It had never seen any animal larger than a lab dog before, but it seemed no more than mildly interested and stayed sitting.
But not Abby Bullitt. She'd dismounted and stood in front of their animal now, hands clasped. "He's beautiful. He's beautiful," she repeated over and over, looking up at his great head towering above her.
Colin looked away from the light in her eyes. She looked hypnotized.
And now Colin felt his animal move. The biding eyes were looking down at Abby Bullitt, and slowly, magnificently, the great wings spread. Spread in a movement Colin had never seen before. Spread upward and outward until they seemed to blot out the whole of the morning's sun.
"Oh," the woman gasped. "Oh, I must ride him."
"No," Colin said. Something was going on here that he didn't understand and his feeling of uneasiness was deep. ' 'No, he's never been ridden before. Never even mounted."
But Abby Bullitt had her hand on the bridle. "Let go," she said. "I must ride him."
"No," Colin said and then his hand was bloody where she'd cut it with her riding crop and snatched away the bridle.
She flung herself onto the animal's shoulders, into the hollow between the high-carried wings, her sharp spurs gouging.
It screamed and it ran. On its hind legs as Colin had so often seen it do, its grafted front ones tucked in, birdtike, and then it was in flight. Again it screamed and now Abby Bullitt's voice was blended in the sound. Was it delight… or terror? Colin could not tell. The mount and ils rider climbed higher. The screams were fainter now, but the terror in Abby Bullitt's was plain.