"Depends on how much data you want to take back," the other shrugged. "We"re already combining the original day two and day three schedules, taking half the data points we"d originally planned for each-"
From one of the rooms down the hall came a m.u.f.fled shriek and the crash of a falling object. "What-?" McKinley snapped, spinning around.
Winward was already moving at a dead run, auditory enhancers keyed for follow-up noises. The sounds of a struggle... m.u.f.fled curses... that door-
He slammed it open to see one of the Cobras pulling a struggling Qasaman from the desk he"d apparently thrown himself across. The experimenter, picking himself up shakily from the floor behind his overturned chair, was white-faced with shock, the pale skin in sharp contrast to the oozing blood on his cheek.
Beside him on the floor lay a dead mojo. The Cobra looked up as Winward strode in. "The mojo tried to attack, and I had to kill it. I was a little too slow to stop this one."
Winward nodded as McKinley skidded into the room behind him. "Get him out of here," he told the Cobra.
"Killers," the Qasaman spat toward Winward as the other Cobra hauled him toward the door. "Foulspring excrement vermin-"
The door slammed on his tirade. "Loses a lot in translation, I"ll bet." Winward and McKinley moved to the tester"s side. "You okay?"
"Yeah," the other nodded, dabbing with a handkerchief at his cheek. "Took me completely by surprise-his control just seemed to snap, and there he was on top of me."
Winward exchanged glances with McKinley. "When was that? When his mojo was killed?"
"Oddly enough, no. As a matter of fact, I think they both jumped me at the same time. Though I couldn"t swear to that."
"Um," McKinley nodded. "Well, the tapes will show the details. You"d better go to HQ, get those scratches looked at. No point taking any chances."
"Yes, sir. Sorry."
"Not your fault. And don"t come back until you"re sure you feel ready to continue. We"re not in that much of a hurry."
The tester nodded and left. "If he"s too obviously nervous it could skew his results," McKinley explained.
Winward nodded. He had the recorder box back on the table now and popped the rear panel. "Let"s see what really happened."
The tester, it turned out, had been correct. Bird and man had attacked at precisely the same moment.
"You can see signs of agitation in both of them," McKinley pointed out, running the tape again. "The rippling feathers and snapping motions of the beak here; the shifting muscle lines in his face, here, and the hand movements."
"This is all in response to ultrasonics that humans can"t hear?" Something p.r.i.c.kled on the back of Win-ward"s neck.
"Right. Just took at the tester here-he"s in the same ultrasonic beam and isn"t so much as sweating hard." McKinley bit at his lip. "But I wasn"t expecting this much of a common reaction."
"They"re getting some of their courage back, maybe, knowing troops are on the way."
"But the birds aren"t supposed to be intelligent enough to pick up on things like that," McKinley growled.
"Maybe they pick it up via body language from their humans. Maybe that"s the way the mojos" agitation transmits in reverse, too."
"Possible." McKinley sighed. "Unfortunately, the body language and telepathic theories are going to be very hard to distinguish between without long-term studies."
"Which we don"t have time for." Winward grimaced. "Well, do the best you can-maybe you and the bio people will be able to pull useful results out of the raw data. In the meantime, try to avoid pushing any more of your subjects over the brink."
"Yeah."
Banyon took a deep breath, exhaled it carefully. At long last, paydirt.
The three creatures eyeing the humans from the undergrowth were krisjaws, all right-surely no two creatures on Qasama could have those wavy, flame-shaped canine teeth. Nearly two meters long, with the lean musculature and stealth of predators, they eased toward the four humans, eyes fixed on their prey.
And Governor Telek"s theory had been correct. On the shoulder of each sat an equally attentive mojo.
"Now what?" Hanford murmured, a bit nervously, at Banyon"s side. "You have the recorders running?" The Cobra sensed rather than saw Hanford"s nod. "Everyone else in position?"
Three acknowledgments came through his earphone. The other Cobras had the krisjaws boxed up... and it was time to test the predators" reactions. "Get ready," he muttered to the zoologists grouped behind him. "Here goes." Raising his hands, he fired a salvo from fingertip lasers into the brush at either side of the stalking animals.
The krisjaws weren"t stupid. All three froze in place for a long minute and then began backing away as cautiously as they"d been advancing. They got barely a meter, though, before a second burst of laser fire from one of Banyon"s hidden flankers traced a line of smoldering vegetation behind them. Again they froze, heads turning slowly as if to seek out their hidden a.s.sailant. "Well," Banyon said after a few seconds, "it looks like they"ll be staying put for a bit. How close did you want to examine them?"
"No closer than necessary," one of the zoologists muttered. "I don"t trust a flash net to hold anything that size."
"Nonsense," Hanford said-though not all that confidently, Banyon thought. "Let me take a shot at the one on the right. Everyone watch for trouble."
There was a soft chuff of compressed air from behind Banyon"s shoulder, a glimpse of a tiny cylinder arrowing toward the target krisjaw-and with an explosive crack the flash net blew out to tangle the krisjaw"s head and forelegs. Screeching, the mojo on its back shot clear... and the krisjaw went berserk.
Banyon had used flash nets against spine leopards on Aventine on numerous occasion-had trapped bigger and meaner-looking animals on the Menssana"s five-world tour a couple of months ago-but never in all that had he seen such a violent reaction. The krisjaw screamed in rage, slashing as best it could with teeth and claws at the fine mesh clinging to its body, rolling around in the underbrush and occasionally even twisting itself entirely off the ground in its frenzy.
And within seconds it had opened up tears in the net.
Hanford stepped a pace forward, raising his air gun again, but Banyon had already made his decision. "Forget it," he called to the zoologist over the noise, pressing the gun barrel down. Targeting, he swung his leg up and fired his antiarmor laser.
The landscape lit up briefly, and with one final scream the krisjaw collapsed among the ruins of the net.
Someone swore feelingly under his breath. "No wonder the Qasamans organize hunts against these things."
"Yeah." Banyon shifted his attention to the other two krisjaws, still waiting quietly. Waiting, but several meters further to the side than they"d been a minute earlier. A new line of blackened vegetation smoldered beside them. "What happened?-they try to slip away in the confusion?"
"They thought about it," one of the Cobras replied dryly. "I think we"ve convinced them to cooperate for the moment."
"Cooperate," Hanford mused. "I seem to remember the mayor of Huriseem mentioning the krisjaws were pretty peaceful when the Qasamans first got here."
"He said it was a legend," one of the others reminded him. "I find it hard to swallow that an animal"s behavior would change that drastically."
"What do you think we"re looking at right now?" Hanford snorted. "Those two krisjaws are being about as peaceable as they come."
"Only because they see they"ll be cut to ribbons if they try anything."
"Which in itself is highly suggestive," Banyon put in. "Remember the gleaner-team report this morning about the apparent transfer of aggression between mojos and humans?"
"You think the mojo made the krisjaw fight back against the net?" Hanford shaded his eyes as he searched the trees for the escaped bird.
"Just the opposite," Banyon told him. "I"m wondering if perhaps the mojo was sitting on the krisjaw"s natural aggression, holding it in check until it was forced too far away."
"That"s crazy," one of the Cobras scoffed. "The krisjaws are sitting targets out there-their best survival tactic right now is to run or attack."