SilverSide disappeared. It wasn't until Derec finished construction of the fireplace that he noticed SilverSide was gone. Wolruf was fast asleep in the tent on one of the cots she had erected. She really wasn't much of an outdoors person, not at all like Derec in that respect.
There was no point in looking for SilverSide. This was his habitat far more than theirs. They might never see him again.
The thought of that filled Derec with dismay. He had become vitally interested in the strange robot-a fascinating study in alien robotics. He had learned a great deal merely by association, but he needed to learn much more, including its origin and the purpose of its original programming.
And he had sucked Wolruf into the problem as well. He had brought her “half across the galaxy” as she had so emphatically pointed out. How was he going to explain that he would not need her services any longer? That she had come all this way for nothing!
When Wolruf awoke, she took the news of SilverSide's disappearance quite calmly.
“Good,” she said. “Can I go 'ome now, back to civilissation? Can we at least go back to the city?”
“He'll come back,” Derec said more confidently than he felt. “We'll at least stay overnight. He might not come back to the city, but he'll come back here.”
They spent a quiet afternoon. Derec read. Wolruf slept. Mandelbrot stood guard, just outside the clearing, facing away from the campsite, with his back against a tree on the other side of the brook. SilverSide would have a hard time getting at his switch panel that way.
After dinner, after it got dark, hoping to attract SilverSide, Derec built up the fire so that it lighted the entire clearing.
Mandelbrot stayed at his guard post. Wolruf dozed in the warmth of the fire. Derec thought about Ariel, and that brought him to Jacob Winterson and, putting Jacob out of his mind, brought him back full circle to worrying about SilverSide.
The fire died down. Derec was talking when Wolruf quietly laid a hand on his arm and pointed across the fire to the other side of the clearing, the side away from Mandelbrot's guard post.
There-just inside the clearing, in the faint light of the dying fire-were two gray wolf-like shapes, sitting on their haunches. When he looked at them, the firelight caught the backsides of their eyes and came back at him as a ghostly green glow. That must have been how Wolruf had seen them in the first place; they were otherwise almost invisible.
“Master Derec,” Mandelbrot called softly from behind them, “we are surrounded by animals circling around the campsite. Should I take any action?”
“Can you suggest anything suitable?” Derec asked.
“Not at the moment,” Mandelbrot replied.
“Stay at your post then,” Derec said.
“I 'ate stuff like this,” Wolruf said. “Why do you alwayss 'ave to bring me along?”
Just then the shape on the right threw back its head and howled, long and piercingly, letting it trail off slowly into a series of soft sobs.
That howl was answered by an identical howl from the forest that seemed to progress halfway around the campsite before it, too, sobbed to a finish.
The two shapes rose then and trotted toward the campfire. The one on the left was smaller, Wolruf's size, and as they approached the campfire, its form became silvery while the form of the other, standing a meter at the shoulder, became more distinctly mottled black and dark gray.
After coming well into the light of the fire, the larger beast turned and loped into the forest. The small silvery beast came around the fire and sat down on its haunches beside Wolruf.
“That was LifeCrier,” the small beast said. “He wanted to inspect Wolruf.”
“SilverSide?” Derec queried.
“Yes. Surely you can tell it's me. The imprint is quite realistic.”
“And did I pass muster?” Wolruf asked.
“I wouldn't be here if you hadn't, Mistress Wolruf,” SilverSide replied.
She had achieved a remarkable likeness to Wolruf, considering that the robot was an organometallic construction from coarse cellular microbots. The flat face, the pointed ears, the fingered forepaws were all in character. She had even achieved a good simulation of the fur without creating individual hairs.
“I think the wolves have gone, Master Derec,” Mandelbrot informed them.
“I would suspect so, Mandelbrot,” Derec said. “SilverSide is back. Perhaps you should come and meet her in this new form.”
Mandelbrot crossed the brook and walked up to the fire. He hardly glanced at SilverSide.
“Would you like me to build up the fire, Master Derec?” he asked.
“Yes,” Derec said, “and then perhaps you should resume guard duty. Other beasties may come calling, some that are not so friendly.”
Those that had just left had not been nearly so friendly at one time, Derec recalled.
“And SilverSide, you might post yourself on the other side of the campsite, but don't stray so far into the forest this time.”
“Mistress Wolruf?” SilverSide said, questioning with a rising inflection.
“Yes?”
“Are those your wishes?”
“Of course.”
SilverSide's fealty had clearly shifted to Wolruf.
Derec slept well until the middle of the night. With SilverSide back in the fold, his attention had shifted to himself, and he went to sleep yearning to be with Ariel. The gentle snore from the cot next to him reminded him of Ariel and aggravated the desire, but it was not enough to keep him awake long.
That night he didn't dream of Ariel or of anything else. The short hike, the outdoor environment, and the relief connected with SilverSide's return promoted sound sleep, and he didn't stir until shortly before dawn, when he was awakened by Avernus's call over his internal monitor, transmitting Ariel's call for help.
Chapter 13. The Vote On Superior Competence
Immediately following the last, disastrous meeting with the aliens, Synapo had circled up to charge altitude with Neuronius and Axonius trailing far behind. He was looking neither to left nor right nor up nor down. His eyes were open but staring straight ahead-staring, unseeing, out of a mind closed down by shock.
So when he arrived on station, he was surprised to see Sarco there ahead of him, circling in Synapo's space, hook set aggressively forward.
Although it was virtually unheard of and highly unethical to communicate political matters by radio, Neuronius must have done just that, radiating Synapo's defeat for all to hear, while Synapo, in shock, had his sensory equipment shut down. Else why would Sarco be up here already, contesting Synapo's dominance?
So, indeed, it had been a conspiracy; and it involved not only Sarco and Neuronius, but Axonius as well.
Synapo ignored Sarco, and with his hook set aggressively forward, he winged Sarco out of the way and took up his station in a tight circle immediately over the center of the compensator.
“What's up?” Sarco said, meekly yielding the space. “You don't seem happy.”
Synapo said nothing.
“What happened down there?” Sarco asked again, putting more insistence into his voice.
“You should know,” Synapo finally said. “One of your Cerebron toadies has already radioed you.”
“What are you talking about? Nobody has radioed anything; and I can't stand toadies, least of all a Cerebron.”
“Neuronius? What about Neuronius?”
“Neuronius coached me in pronunciation of the alien language. Does that make the poor soul a toady?”
“Poor soul, my hook. He was just trying to stir up trouble between you and me; if you somehow don't relish that idea, then he was using you, Sarco, and you must be exceedingly naive.”
“I must admit I thought it was an elegant idea, using your second in command to advantage in our rivalry. But, Synapo, it has always been a friendly rivalry.”