Maverick looked at the thing she’d gone to so much work to pull out. “ A giant egg?”
“That’s what it looks like, all right. ” WhiteTail got back on her feet, brushed some of the clinging blue grit off the thing, and then found her knife and tapped the egg a few times with the blade. “But it’s got the hardest shell that I have ever seen. “
Maverick wrinkled his nose in a deep frown. “Still, *an egg?”
“Interesting thought, isn’t it? That WalkingStones might be some kind of giant flyer? Although personally I think the shape and size is more like a sharpfang egg. ”
Maverick shook his head. “No. ”
WhiteTail tapped the egg with her knife again. “Agreed, sharpfang eggs are soft and leathery, while this one is as hard as a rock, and too small. Still-”
Maverick pushed in and laid a paw on the egg. “No, you don’t understand. These four WalkingStones we killed; they all carried eggs?” WhiteTail nodded. Maverick looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t you see?”
WhiteTail didn’t see. “What?”
“No wonder they were such poor fighters. We jumped a bunch of females who were all nesting. ”
The instant those words left his lips, Maverick knew he’d made a mistake. Whatever warmth had been in WhiteTail’s eyes, it was gone now. She drew herself up to her full, slender height and asked, “And tell me, O great hunter, since when is a mother protecting her young harmless?”
“Well,” Maverick hedged, “there are some; female whistlepigs, and redflyers too, and… ”
“Useless, absolutely useless,” WhiteTail growled. “I shouldn’t be wasting my time with you. ”
Maverick froze, rooted to the spot, as his internal voices erupted into a full-scale screaming argument.
Submit, idiot, submit!
What? Tothis insolent little pup?
Who also happens to be the leader’s daughter!
Don’t do it, lad. Roll over and bare your throat to her now and you’ll never get another chance to show her who rules the den.
But you werewrong, idiot!
“Well?” WhiteTail said in challenge.
Maverick was saved by the arrival of LifeCrier, who blithely trotted right between them. “Okay you two lovebirds, break it up. We’ve still got a day’s hunting ahead of us. ” A few trots away, he looked over his shoulder without breaking stride and added, “Well, daughter? Are you coming?”
WhiteTail’s hackles went down, her lips relaxed back down over her fangs, and she turned to follow him. “Yes, Father. ” Maverick started breathing again, and he turned his back to WhiteTail and took another look at the egg.
The bite on his hindquarters took him completely by surprise.
“ Yike!”He leapt half a trot in the air and came down in a whirl. WhiteTail was standing there with a wicked smile on her face and a little bit of his fur in her teeth. “What was that for?” he demanded.
“Just a reminder, sweetheart. I’m not done with you yet. ” Then, with a cold glare and a vicious snap of her whip-like tail, she turned and trotted after her father.
Maverick sat down and watched her go. When she was safely out of earshot, he softly said, “Mavvy old boy, are you sure you want to be in the same pack with her?”
Five minutes later, when LifeCrier had gathered all the other adult hunters and gotten them formed up and ready to move out, Maverick still hadn’t come up with an answer to that question. So he took one last look at the WalkingStone egg-only to discover that a skinny youngling had dragged it off, wedged it in a crevice, and started pounding on it with a rock. Then he sighed, got to his feet, and trotted after the rest of the pack.
Had he understood that the egg was actually Linguist 6’s microfusion power pod, he would have moved considerably faster.
Chapter 12. Derec
. Derec and his father sat side by side in the ship’s robotics lab, hunched over a matching pair of robotic data entry terminals, staring intently at the video displays. A casual observer might have mistaken the pair of them for a new breakthrough in humaniform robots, so still were they: unmoving, except for their fingers and the barely perceptible motions of their chests as they breathed; unblinking, their paired attention completely focused on their work.
And yet there was something subtle, barely tangible, yet almost unmistakably lifelike about the pair. It wasn’t the white stubble on Avery’s chin; that effect could have been achieved with common nylon bristle. Perhaps it was the delicate filigree of bloodshot veins that adorned the whites of Derec’s eyes. More likely it was his hair, which had that limp, greasy look that could only be achieved through the use of expensive petrochemical plastics.
Or three days of nonstop programming.
Occasionally, a finger moved. Lips parted; a word or two passed between them, although not in anything that the average observer would have recognized as being part of a human conversation.
“Adb ixform. ”
“Got it. ”
“0B09?”
“15. ”
“0B2C?”
“A0. ”
“Sounds good. ” There was a long pause while Avery studied something on his screen.
Whatever it was caused him to frown and then to speak again. “Can you give me a du?”
“Fifteen-point-four-four-three-seven gigs. ”
“Well, if that’s not enough, I don’t know what is. Set the pipe. ”
“Piped. ”
Avery leaned back in his chair, ran his fingers through his bristly white hair, and blew out a deep breath. “Okay, we’re as ready as we’re ever going to be. Cross your fingers and start the yacc. ”
“Yaccing. ” Derec punched one last command into the terminal and leaned back in his chair in unconscious mimicry of his father. Numbers flashed and danced across the screen; Derec watched it for a few minutes and then rubbed his gritty eyes and turned to Avery. “Now what?”
“We wait. ” Slowly, painfully, Avery got up out of his chair and limped over to the autogalley. “Coffee, black,” he told the machine.
. Derec noticed the limp, and a reaction finally worked its way to his vocal cords. “You okay, Dad?” There was genuine concern in his voice.
Avery chuckled a little and slapped his dragging leg. “Yeah, I’m okay. Foot fell asleep, that’s all. ”
“Oh. ” Derec yawned. The autogalley chimed gently, and the serving door slid open to reveal the cup of coffee that Avery had ordered. Derec’s nose perked up at the rich, earthy scent. “Smells good,” he observed.
“You want some?”
. Derec thought it over. “Sure. With casein and two lumps of sugar. ”
“Decaf? You look like you could use some sleep. ”
. Derec rubbed the back of his neck and then studied the grit that had adhered to his fingers. “Nah. I’ve been in here three days; Ari’ll make me sleep on the couch anyway. Mayas well stay awake. ”
“Okay. ” Avery repeated Derec’s order to the autogalley. When the second steaming cup appeared, he picked it up and carefully carried it over to the work table.
The two of them sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping their cups of coffee, while the numbers danced and capered across Derec’s terminal display.
“I hate robotic coffee,” Avery said at last. Derec spoke without looking up. “Why?”
“Fresh-brewed coffee’s supposed to burn your tongue. That way you take a little more time, drink it a little slower. Robot-made coffee is served lukewarm, gets cold too fast. You have to gulp it down and get back to work. ”
“Oh. ” Derec took another sip and resumed staring into space.
“I could use some food,” Avery said after another long pause. “Anything you’re partial to?” He got up again and toddled over to the autogalley.