I took some close-up images of them with the intention of forwarding them to Bridget. On close inspection, he looked more like a small ornery Quinlan than anything else. I wondered if he might be related to the natives the way chimps were related to humans. Meanwhile, internal repairs continued. The injury turned out to be a minor issue, in that no complicated machinery was damaged. But I had bent the skeleton just below the knee, so the nanites had to soften and re-form the carbon fiber structure. It was a slow job, and required me to hold still. Meanwhile, His Badgerness seemed none the worse for his short career as a football. Stupid badger.
On the third day though, I detected the noise of something approaching. No, several somethings, and all speaking Quinlan. A search party. I couldn't make out actual words, but it was a fair bet they were looking for me. This was confirmed, more or less, a few minutes later.
A Furl hopped into the entrance to the deadfall and paused. I crouched down, trying to become one with the leaves and dirt and darkness. The furl turned its head this way and that, then hopped farther into the tunnel, and snap became badger lunch. His Badgerness played with the corpse for a few moments, but he appeared confused by the very un-yummy pile of gears and electronics. After sniffing it a few times, he pushed the pile aside with evident disgust.
There was an exchange of words outside, followed by a Quinlan face being poked into the entrance. Wow. Big mistake. Having recently ceded one home to one Quinlan, His Badgerness was not prepared to experience a second such loss. He launched himself at the face, which disappeared with a cry of dismay. A few seconds of yelling and snarling followed, accompanied by lots of running around and things being knocked about. Then His Badgerness stomped back into his den, turned, and settled down with his butt toward me. It was probably an editorial comment, but I was too pleased with the events to be offended. This deadfall had just been solidly established as a place where no quarry could possibly be hiding.
Rapidly receding voices and the occasional laugh confirmed this. I wished I’d had some food for my cranky roommate. He’d earned it. The burning question though, was whether or not that would be the only search party.
When the badger left in his next hunting expedition, I sent my spider over the line to inspect the pile of fake furl. The spider confirmed that there was no power and no electrical activity, so I had him drag the corpse back to me. The up-close inspection was… interesting. Quinlan technology was definitely ahead of ours in some aspects, particularly that of fusion power generation and computer systems. The power plant was a marvel of miniaturization. And if the Casimir systems weren't so innately superior, we’d have stolen this tech in a cold second. I couldn’t even make heads or tails of the computer system. There were definitely some optoelectronic components, but they were only for interfacing. The core was… weird. I instructed the spider to take it apart and catalog the results. Bill would love this.
“Hey Bob.”
“Hi Hugh. Getting close?”
“Pretty sure. The description sounds about right. This would've been easier if you'd gotten that town name.”
“Yeah, rub it in. Once you get to shore, you should be able to pick up the radio telemetry from my spider.”
“Great. 15 minutes or so.”
Having Hugh around, even in anticipation, gave me a huge emotional boost. More than I can honestly justify. It wasn't clear what two Mannies could do that one Manny couldn't.
Hugh detected my spider as soon as he came out of the water, and begin zeroing in on me. I did a quick check of my leg. Definitely fixed, so I wouldn’t be holding us up. Finally, I heard approaching footsteps, and seconds later a soft voice.
“Bob?”
“Here, Hugh. Don't stick your head in, though. My guard-badger has a hair-trigger.”
Hugh chuckled, then said, “Let’s see if I can draw him out.”
I listened to shuffling around sounds for a minute or so, then a small piece of wood to sailed into the den. His Badgerness snarled and arched his back. More sticks followed, accompanied by a chant of “here, kuzzy kuzzy kuzzy…”
Well that was interesting. Had Hugh picked up the Deltan insults from my blogs? Or was he descended from me through Marvin or Luke? In any case, it proved too much for my roommate. With a snarl of rage, the badger launched himself out to deal with his tormentor. Hugh made “whoop” sound and retreated rapidly, but it was enough. I quickly pulled up the stakes, grabbed my crate, and rocketed out of the den, right into the back end of His Badgerness.
I may not of planned this out as well as intended. The badger jumped straight up and incredibly managed to spin in midair, claws and teeth on full display. I wasn't about to hang around for hugs though. I sprinted off in the opposite direction, one eye on enemy mine. His Badgerness, no dummy, quickly realized that I'd vacated the residence. He shot back into the den, turned, and stood his ground at the entrance, snarling
