Part 52 (1/2)

Provided the mayor didn't get too courageous. ”Fine,” the Cobra nodded. ”Then let's go out and join them while our people get things organized. After you give me your gun, of course.”

The Qasaman hesitated a split second before sliding the weapon out of its holster and laying it atop the console. ”Okay; let's go,” Winward said, leaving the gun where it was. If Telek's theory was right, chances were he could pick up the weapon without drawing a mojo attack... but he wasn't ready to make a test case out of it, not yet.

Silently the Qasaman rose to his feet, and together the two men left the office.

The section of forest the outrider-two team had put their aircar down into was reasonably spa.r.s.e, as such things went, reminding Rey Banyon more of the woods they'd seen on Chata than the denser forests of Aventine's far west region where he'd grown up. The good news was that the openness aided visibility; the bad was that it allowed for larger animals to live here. By and large, a fairly even trade.

But for the moment the forest's denizens, large and small, were keeping their distance. Eyes sweeping the vicinity of the aircar, he listened with half an ear to the conversation between Dr. Hanford and the Dewdrop in orbit above them.

”Well, we didn't spot anything when we swept the area,” Hanford was saying. ”Are you still showing something nearby?”

”Negative,” the voice came Back. ”I think it went back under the trees and we lost it.”

Hanford exhaled loudly. Banyon understood his irritation perfectly: this was the third time in the six hours they'd been on Qasama that they'd made a mad dash to the possible location of a krisjaw, only to come up empty.

And to make it worse, they weren't even sure that a krisjaw was what they needed to find.

”Any idea even which way it went?” the zoologist asked at last.

”Dr. Hanford, you have to understand the Dewdrop's infrareds weren't designed for such pin-point work, at least not from this distance. Let me see... if I had to guess, I'd say to try northwest.”

”Thanks,” Hanford said dryly. ”Call if you spot another target.”

”Northwest,” one of the other two zoologists muttered as Hanford broke the connection. ”I'd guess northwest, too, if I had to. That's the direction animals run on this crazy planet.”

”I doubt the predators do.” Hanford sighed. ”Well, Rey? On foot or by air?”

”By air, I suppose,” Banyon said. ”We'll try spotting on our own for awhile. See if we can do any better.”

”Can't possibly do any worse. Well, let's go.”

The three zoologists climbed back into the aircar, followed by Banyon and his three Cobra teammates. Rising to just over treetop level, they headed slowly northwest.

Christopher flipped off the mike with a snort and settled back to glaring at the infrared display, muttering under his breath. Eyeing him over his own screen,

York chuckled. ”Having trouble, Bil?”

”This isn't even my job,” Christopher growled without looking up. ”How am I supposed to find krisjaw hot spots when I don't even know what they're supposed to look like?”

”You find a large hot spot that's moving-”

”Yes, I know all that. Elsner just better hurry up and get back here, that's all

I've got to say.”

”He still at the main display looking for a bololin herd for outrider-three?”

”Yeah.” Christopher visibly s.h.i.+vered. ”Those guys must be nuts. You sure wouldn't catch me chasing bololins around.”

”You wouldn't catch me down there at all,” York murmured.