Dinosaur Planet

CHAPTER NINE

A world which stimulated last evening's occupation couldn't be all bad, Varian decided the next morning, rising totally refreshed. Perhaps Lunzie had been wrong to think that just because the heavy-worlders hadn't taken along protein rations, they were going to . . . Well, there was no proof that their day hadn't been spent in gratifying their sex drive, and not an atavistic pleasure in dietary habits.

Kai was correct, too. As they had no proof of any misdemeanour, it did no good to harbour base suspicions.

Easier said than done, thought Varian later as she conferred with the heavy-worlders on the week's assignments. She could not put her finger on a specific change, but there was a marked difference in the attitude of her team. Varian had always felt relatively at ease with Paskutti and Tardma. Today, she was conscious of a restraint, stumbling for phrases and words, uncomfortable and feeling that Paskutti and Tardma were amused by her. They had an air of smug satisfaction that irritated her, though she'd be hard pressed to say what gave her that idea as the heavy-worlders betrayed no emotion. The xenob team was keeping just ahead of the areas the geologists must probe on the ground. Unknown life forms lurked in the heavy vegetation, small but equally dangerous, and force-screen belts were not absolute protection.

As the two heavy-worlders strode beside her towards the sled park, she could have sworn that Paskutti was limping slightly. Varian and Kai had agreed to hold off questioning the heavy-worlders and Varian had no trouble controlling her curiosity that day. That indefinable change in the heavy-worlders' attitude towards her acted as a crucial check.

It was a distinct relief to her to call an end to the day's scouting when pelting, wind-lashed rain limited visibility and made telltagging impossible. That it was Paskutti who called the actual halt to the exercise gave Varian some measure of satisfaction.

When they entered the compound, Lunzie was crossing from the shuttle to her quarters and gave Varian an imperceptible signal to join her.

“Something occurred yesterday,” the physician told Varian in the privacy. “Tanegli has a gash across one cheek-bone. He said he got it from a sharp twig when leaning over to collect a specimen.” Lunzies expression discounted that explanation.

“And I'm certain that Paskutti is masking a limp.”

“Oho, and Bakkun is not making full use of his left arm.”

“In some primitive societies, the males fight for the favour of the females,” Varian said.

“That doesn't hold Berru is wearing heal-seal on her left arm. I haven't seen Divisti or the others today but I'd love to call a medical on all of 'em. Only I did that too recently for the alcohol reaction.”

“Maybe Berru just didn't like the male who won her?”

Lunzie snorted “I'd say the air was blue with response yesterday. Anyway, how come you're in so early?”

“Violent storm, couldn't see, and certainly couldn't tell tag what was on the ground. I rather thought though,” she added in a drawl, “that Paskutti and Tardma were quite ready to quit early.”

“I've put a new power pack in the synthesizer and I'll keep strict account of any usage Tanegli says he found two more edible fruits, and one plant heart with a high nutritional content. At least he says he found them yesterday . . .”

“We could still be computing from the wrong data,” suggested Varian wistfully.

“We could be.” Lunzie was not convinced.

“I could ask Bonnard if he remembers the co-ordinates of Bakkun's so-called special place?”

“You could, though I don't like involving the youngsters in any part of this.”

“Nor do I. But they are part of the expedition and this could affect them as well as us adults. However. I could just be in the general vicinity of Bakkun's run that day, and . . .”

“Yes, that would not be a blatant abuse of the child's trust.”

“I'll see what Kai says.”

Kai had the same general objection to involving the youngster at all. On the other hand, it was important to find out exactly what had occurred, and if the heavy-worlders were reverting, he and Varian would have to know and take steps. He cautioned Varian to be discreet, both with Bonnard and the search.

Her opportunity came about quite naturally two mornings later. Kai and Bonnard took off north to do a depth assessment of a pitchblende strike discovered by Berru and Triv. Paskutti and Tardma followed by lift-belt to track and tag some shallow water monsters observed, at a safe distance, by the two geologists. Varian wanted to penetrate and telltag further to the north west so she asked Bonnard to be her team flyer.

She did a good deal of work with Bonnard and managed casually to veer to the proper heading. She had checked Bakkun's flight tapes.

“Say, isn't this near where Bakkun had those herbivores?”

Turning from the telltagger, Bonnard glanced around.

“A lot of Ireta looks the same, purple-green trees and no sun. No, wait. That line of fold mountains, with the three higher overthrusts . . .”

“You have learned a thing or two,” said Varian, teasingly.

Bonnard faltered, embarrassed. “Well, Bakkun's been giving me instruction, you know. We were headed straight for that central peak, I think. And we landed just above the first fold of those hills.” Then he added, “We found some gold there, you know.”

“Gold's the least of the riches this planet holds.”

“Then we're not likely to be left, are we?”

Varian inadvertently swerved, sending Bonnard against his seat straps. She corrected her course, cursing Gaber's big mouth and her own lack of self-control.

“Gaber's wishful thinking, huh?” she asked, hoping her chuckle sounded amused. “Those old fogeys get like that, wanting to extend their last expeditionary assignment as long as they can.”

“Oh.” Bonnard had not considered that possibility. “Terilla told me he sounded awful certain.”

“Wishful thinking often does sound like fact. Say, you don't want to stay on Ireta, too, do you? Thought you didn't like this stinking planet, Bonnard?”

“It's not so bad, once you get used to the smell.”

“Just don't get too accustomed, pal. We've got to go back to the EV. Now, keep your eyes open, I want to check . . .”

They were flying over the first of the hills but Varian didn't need Bonnard to tell her when they cruised over Bakkun's special place. It was clearly identifiable: some of the heavier bones and five skulls still remained. Stunned and unwillingly committed now, Varian circled the sled to land and also saw the heavy, blackened stones, witness to a campfire which the intervening days' rain had not quite washed away.

She said nothing. She was grateful that Bonnard couldn't and wouldn't comment.

She put the sled down between the fire site and the first of the skulls. It was pierced between the eyes with a round hole: too large to have been a stun bolt at close range, but whatever had driven it into the beast's head had had enough force behind it to send fracture lines along the skull bone. Two more skulls showed these holes, the fourth had been crushed by heavy blows on the thinner base of the neck. The fifth skull was undamaged and it was not apparent how that creature had met its death.

The ground in the small rock-girded field was torn up and muddied with tracks, giving silent evidence to struggles.

“Varian,” Bannard's apologetic voice called her from chaotic speculations. He was holding up a thin scrap of fabric, stiff and darker than ship suits should be, a piece of sleeve fabric for the seam ran to a bit of the tighter cuff: a big cuff, a left arm cuff. She winced with revulsion but shoved the offending evidence into her thigh pocket.

Resolutely she strode to the makeshift fire-pit, staring at the blackened stones, at the groove chipped out of opposing stones where a Spit must have been placed. She shuddered against rising nausea.

“We've seen enough, Bonnard,” she said, gesturing him to follow her back to the sled. She had all she could do not to run from the place.

When they had belted into their seats, she turned to Bonnard, wondering if her face was as white as his.

“You will say nothing of this to anyone, Bonnard. Nothing.”

Her fingers trembled as she made a note of the co-ordinates. When she lifted the sled, she shoved in a burst of propulsion, overwhelmingly eager to put as much space between her and that charnel spot as she could!

Neither she nor Kai could ignore such an abrogation of basic Federation tenets. For a fleeting moment, she wished she'd made this search alone, then she could have forgotten about it, or tried to. With Bonnard as witness, the matter could not be put aside as a nightmare. The heavy-worlders would have to be officially reprimanded, though she wasn't sure how efficacious words would be against their physical strength. They were contemptuous enough of their leadership already to have killed and eaten animal flesh.

Varian shook her head sharply, trying to clear her mind of the revulsion that inevitably accompanied that hideous thought.

“Life form, untagged,” Bonnard said in a subdued tone.

Willing for any diversion from her morbid and sickening thoughts, Varian turned the sled, tracking the creature until it crossed a clearing.

"Got it," said Bonnard. "It's a fang-face, Varian. And Varian, it's wounded. Rakers ! "

The predator whirled in the clearing, reaching up to beat futilely at the air with its short fore-feet. A thick branch had apparently lodged in its ribs, Varian could see fresh blood from its exertions flowing out of the gaping wound. Then she could no longer ignore the fact that the branch was a crude spear, obviously flung with great force into the beast's side.

"Aren't we going to try and help it, Varian?" asked Bonnard as she sent the sled careering away." We couldn't manage it alone, Bonnard."

“But it will die.”

“Yes, and there's nothing we can do now. Not even get close enough to spray a seal on the wound and hope that it could dislodge that . . .” She didn't know why she stopped; she wasn't protecting the heavy-worlders, and Bonnard had seen the horror.

Hadn't the carnivores provided the heavy-worlders with enough violence? How many other wounded creatures would she and Bonnard encounter in this part of the world?

“By any chance, had you the taper on, Bonnard?”

“Yes, I did, Varian.”

“Thank you. I'm turning back. I must speak to Kai as soon as possible.” When she saw Bonnard looking at the communit, she shook her head. “This is an executive matter, Bonnard. Again, I must ask you to say nothing to anyone and . . .” She wanted to add “stay away from the heavy-worlders” but from the tight, betrayed expression on the boy's face, she knew such advice would be superfluous.

They continued back to the compound in silence for a while.

“Varian?”

“Yes, Bonnard?” She hoped she had an answer for him.

“Why? Why did they do such a terrible thing?”

“I wish I knew, Bonnard. No incidence of violence stems from a simple cause, or a single motive. I've always been told that violence is generally the result of a series of frustrations and pressures that have no other possible outlet.”

“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 wonderful: 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?”

“Yes, sir, I did. But what is he?”

“A hyracotherium, or I miss my guess,” said Trizein with the forced joviality an adult often displayed for the unknown quantity of a youngster.

“Does that make Dandy special?” asked Bonnard of Varian.

“If he is a genuine hyracotherium, unusually special,” said Varian in a strangled voice.

“You doubt me,” Trizein said, aggrieved. “You doubt me! But I can prove it.” He grabbed Varian by the elbow and Lunzie by the shoulder and marched them towards the shuttle. “One is not allowed to bring much of a personal nature on a small short term expedition such as this, but I did bring my own data discs. You'll see.”

As they were propelled into the shuttle, Varian knew what she would see. For all his erratic speech and mental mannerisms, Trizein was invariably accurate. She only wished his data discs would indicate how Dandy's species got to Ireta. It was no consolation either to realize that Trizein was likely to prove that the hot-blooded pentadactyls were aliens to this planet, and the fringes with their cell construction of filaments were native. It was all part of the total confusion of this expedition: planted or mislaid, exploring a planet already once cored, out of control with the mother ship and in danger of a mutiny.

Trizein had shoved them into his lab and was now rummaging in his carry-sack which swung from a bolt in the ceiling, withdrawing a carefully wrapped bundle of data storage discs. He located the one he wanted and, with an air of righteous triumph, inserted it into the terminal's slot. There was no indecision about the keys he tapped and, as he pressed the print-out tab, he turned towards them with an expectant look.

Before their eyes was a replica, except for colouration, of Dandy. Neatly printed, the legend read “Hyracotherium, Terra-Olicogene Age. Extinct.” Where Bannard's pet had mottled reddish-brown fur, this creature was more dun and stripe: the difference necessitated by camouflage requirements, Varian realized, from one environment to another. An indication, also, that the creature had evolved to some extent here on Ireta. His presence made no sense yet.

"I don't understand about Dandy being like this old Earth beast. He's extinct," said Bonnard, turning questioningly to Varian. I thought you couldn't find duplicate life forms developing independently on spatially distant planets. And Ireta isn't even the same sort of planet as Earth. The sun's third generation."

“We have observed inconsistencies about Ireta,” said Lunzie in her dry comforting voice.

“Is there any question in your mind about this creature's similarity now?” asked Trizein, exceedingly pleased with his performance.

“None, Trizein. But you were out in the compound before, why didn't you notice Dandy's similarity then?”

“My dear, I was out in the compound?” Trizein affected dazed surprise.

“You were, but your mind was undoubtedly on more important matters,” said Lunzie, a bit sharply.

“Quite likely,” said Trizein with dignity “My time has been heavily scheduled with analyses and tests and all kinds of interruptions. I've had little time to look around this world, though I have, you might say, examined it intimately.”

“Do you have other extinct and ancient Earth-type animals on that disc as well as Dandy?”

“Dandy? Oh, the Hyracotherium? Yes. this is my Earth paleontological disc, I have ancient species from . . .”

“We'd better stick to one set of puzzles at a time, Trizein?” said Varian, not certain he could absorb more conundrums today. If the fringes should turn out to be a life form from Beta Camaridae, she'd go twisted. “Bonnard, the tape on the giffs is in the main console, isn't it?”

“I put it on data retrieval hold when I showed it to Cleiti and Terilla. Under the date, and giffs, Varian.”

Varian tapped up the proper sequence on the terminal and also transferred Trizein's disc to the smaller screen and a hold. The terminal screen cleared to a vivid frame of a golden flier, its crested head tilted slightly, enhancing the impression of its intelligence.

“Great heavens above ! And furred. Definitely furred,” cried Trizein, bending to peer intently at the giff. “There has always been a great deal of controversy about that among my colleagues. No way to be certain, of course, but this is unquestionably a Pteranodon!”

“Pteranodon?” Bonnard squirmed, uncomfortable to hear such a ponderous name attached to a creature he liked.

“Yes, a Pteranodon, a form of dinosaur, misnamed, of course since patently this creature is warm-blooded . . . inhabiting ancient Earth in Mesozoic times. Died out before the Tertiary period began. No one knows why, though there are as many speculations about the cause . . .” Trizein suddenly warded off the face that flashed on the screen for Varian had tapped in another sequence from the data banks. The heavy jawed head of a fang-face snarled up at them. “Varian! it's . . . It's Tyrannosaurus rex. My dear, what sort of a crude joke are you attempting to play on me?” He was furious.

“That is no joke.” said Lunzie, nodding solemnly.

Trizein stared at her, his eyes protruding from his skull as his jaw dropped. He glanced back at the predatory countenance of the tyrant 1izard, a name which Varian thought extremely suited to its bearer.

“Those creatures are alive on this planet?”

“Very much so. Do you have this Tyrannosaurus rex on your data disc?”

Almost reluctantly, and with a finger that noticeably trembled, Trizein tapped out a sequence for his own disc. The mild features and small body of Hyracotherium was replaced by the upright haughty and dangerous form of fang-face's prototype. Again there was a difference in colouration.

“The force screen,” said Trizein, “is it strong enough to keep it outside?”

Varian nodded. It should be. Furthermore, there aren't any of this kind within a comfortable ten to fifteen kilometres of us. When we moved in, they moved out. They have other, more docile game than us." The shudder that rippled down her spine was not for fear of Tyrannosaurus rex.

“You're sure it will keep its distance?” asked Trizein, concerned. “That creature ruled its millenniums on old Earth. Why, he was supreme. Nothing could defeat him.”

Varian recalled all too vividly a tree-branch of a spear inextricably lodged in a tyrant lizard's rib cage.

“He doesn't like sleds, Trizein,” said Bonnard, not noticing her silence. “He runs from them.”

The chemist regarded the boy with considerable skepticism.

“He does,” Bonnard repeated. “I've seen him. Only today . . .” Then he caught Varian's repressive glance but Trizein hadn't noticed.

The man sank slowly to the nearest lab bench.

“Varian might tease me, and so might the boy, but Lunzie . . .”

It was as if Trizein, too, wished to hear a negative that would reassure him, restore matters to a previous comfortable balance. Lunzie, shaking her head, confirmed that the creatures did exist, and others of considerable size and variety.

“Stegosaurus, too? And the thunder lizard, the original dinosaur? And . . .” Trizein was torn between perturbation and eager excitement at the thought of seeing alive creatures he had long considered extinct. “Why was I never told about them? I should have been told! It's my specialty, my hobby, prehistorical life forms.” Now Trizein sounded plaintive and accusatory.

“Believe me, my friend, it was not a conscious omission?” said Lunzie, patting his hand.

“I'm the true xenob, Trizein,” said Varian in apology. “It never occurred to me that these weren't unique specimens. I've only started considering that an anomaly must exist when you analyzed the fringe types and found them to be on such a different cellular level. That and the grasses!”

“The grasses? The grasses! And tissue slides and blood plates, and all the time,” now outrage stirred Trizein to his feet, “all the time these fantastic creatures are right . . . right outside the force screen. It's too much! Too much, and no one would tell me!”

“You were outside the compound, Trizein, oh you who look and do not see,” said Lunzie.

“If you hadn't kept me so busy with work, each of you saying it was vital and important, and had top priority. Never have I had to deal so single-handedly with so many top priorities, animal, vegetable and mineral. How I've kept going . . .”

“Truly, we're sorry, Trizein. More than you know. I wish I had pried you out of the lab much earlier,” said Varian so emphatically that Trizein was mollified. “On more counts than identifying the beasts.”

Nevertheless, would that knowledge and identification have kept the heavy-worlders from their bestial game? Would it matter in the final outcome, Varian wondered.

“Well, well, make up for your omissions now. Surely this isn't all you have?”

Grateful for any legitimate excuse to delay the unpleasant, Varian gestured Trizein to be seated on something more comfortable than a bench and tapped out a sequence for her survey tapes, compiled when she and Terilla were doing the charts.

“It is patently obvious,” said the chemist, when he had seen all the species she had so far taped and tagged, “that someone has played a joke. Not necessarily on me, on you, or us,” he added, glancing about from under his heavy brows. “Those animals were planted here.”

Bonnard gargled an exclamation, not as controlled in his reaction to that phrase as Lunzie or Varian.

“Planted?” Varian managed a wealth of amused disbelief in that laughed word.

“Well, certainly they didn't spring up in an independent evolution, my dear Varian. They must have been brought here . . . .”

“Fang-face, and herbivores and the golden fliers? Oh, Trizein, it isn't possible. Besides which the difference in pigmentation indicates that they evolved here . . .”

“Oh yes, but they started on Earth. I don't consider camouflage or pigmentation a real deterrent to my theory. All you'd need is one common ancestor. Climate, food, terrain would all bring about specialization over the millenniums and the variety of types would evolve. (The big herbivores, for instance, undoubtedly developed from Struthiomirnus but so did Tyrannosaurus and, quite possibly, your Pteranodon.) The possibilities are infinite from one mutual ancestor. Look at humans, for instance, in our infinite variations.”

“I'll grant it's possible, Trizein, but why? Who would do such a crazy thing? For what purpose? Why perpetuate such monstrosities as fang-face? I could see the golden fliers . . .”

“My dear, variety is essential in an ecological balance. And the dinosaurs were marvellous creatures. They ruled old Earth for more millenniums than we poor badly engineered homo sapiens have existed as a species. Who knows why they faded? What catastrophe occurred . . . More than likely a radical change in temperature following a magnetic shift – That's my theory at any rate, and I'll support it with the evidence we've found here. Oh, I do think this is a splendid development. A planet that has remained in the Mesozoic condition for untold millions of years, and is likely to remain so for unknown millenniums longer. The thermal core, of course, is the factor that . . .”

“Who, Trizein, rescued the dinosaurs from Earth and put them here to continue in all their savage splendour?” asked Varian.

“The Others?”

Bonnard gasped.

“Trizein, you're teasing. The Others destroy life, not save it.” Varian spoke sternly.

Trizein looked unremorseful. “Everyone is entitled to a bit of a joke. The Theks planted them, of course.”

“Have the Theks planted us, too?” asked Bonnard, scared.

“Good heavens!” Trizein stared at Bonnard, his expression turning from surprise at the idea to delight. “Do you really think we might be, Varian? When I consider all the investigatory work I must do . . .”

Lunzie and Varian exchanged shocked glances. Trizein would welcome such a development.

“To prove my conclusions of warm-bloodedness. I wonder, Varian, you didn't show me any true saurians, that is to say, any cold-blooded species because if they did develop here as well, as a specialization, of course, it would substantially improve my hypothesis. This world appears to remain consistently hotter than old Earth . . . Well, Varian, what's the matter?”

“We're not planted, Trizein.”

Daunted and disappointed, he looked next to Lunzie who also shook her head.

“Oh, what a pity.” He was so dejected that Varian, despite the seriousness of the moment, had difficulty suppressing her amusement. “Well, I serve you all fair warning that I do not intend to keep my nose to the data disc and terminal keyboard any more. I shall take time off to investigate my theory. Why didn't anyone think to show me a frame of the animals whose flesh I've been analyzing so often? The time I've wasted . . .”

“Analyzing animal tissues?” Lunzie spoke first, her eyes catching Varian's in alarm.

“Quite. None of them were toxic, a conclusion now confirmed by our mutual planet of origin. I told Paskutti that so you don't need to be so particular about personal force-screens when in close contact. Where are you keeping the other specimens? Nearby?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

Trizein frowned, having started and diverted himself from any number of lines of thought, and was now being brought up sharp.

“Why? Because I got the distinct impression from Paskutti that he was worried about actual contact with these creatures. Of course, not much can penetrate a heavy-worlder's hide but I could appreciate his worrying that you might get a toxic reaction, Varian. So I assumed that the beasts were nearby, or wounded like that herbivore when we first landed. Did you ever show me a frame of that one?”

“Yes,” Varian replied, absently because her mind was revolving about more pressing identities, like the name of the game the heavy-worlders were playing. “One of the Hadrasaurs. I think that's what you called it.”

“There were, in fact, quite a variety of Hadrasaur, the crested, the helmeted, the . . .”

“Mabel had a crest,” said Bonnard.

“You know, Varian, I think that Kai would be interested in Trizein's identification of Dandy,” said Lunzie.

“You're quite right, Lunzie,” said Varian, moving woodenly towards the lab's communit.

She was relieved when Kai answered instead of Bakkun, though she'd prepared herself to deal with the heavy-worlder, too. She was conscious of Bonnard holding his breath as he wondered what she was going to say, and of Lunzie's calm encouraging expression.

“Trizein has just identified our wild life, Kai, and explained the anomaly. I think you'd better come back to base right now.”

“Varian . . .” Kai sounded irritated.

“Cores are not the only things planted on this stinking ball of mud, Kai, or likely to be planted!”

There was silence on the other end of the communit. Then Kai spoke. “Very well then, if Trizein thinks it's that urgent. Bakkun can carry on here. The strike is twice the size of the first.”

Varian congratulated him but wondered if he oughtn't to insist that Bakkun return with him. She'd a few questions she'd like to put to that heavy-worlder on the subject of special places and the uses thereof.