If Kretzoi had almost been quarantined upon his arrival on BoskVeld, I suddenly thought, what’s likely to be Eisen’s reaction to the arrival of an unvaccinated and far from aseptic specimen of Asadi? Indigenous to BoskVeld or not, this new guest would create a commotion even more unpleasant than had the advent of Elegy Cather and Kretzoi. I hadn’t even considered this disagreeable likelihood, not once during the time I was hatching our plan to bring an Asadi back alive, and now we were flying eastward toward the veldts and the melon-green lights of Frasierville – with an alien out cold in the rear of our Dragonfly. I was up front alone, and the sense of haunted isolation I had experienced that evening in the Asadi clearing settled upon me again, icily.
I radioed Rain Forest Port, the helicraft facility within the city limits of Frasierville. ‘BenDragon Prime to RFP Deliverance,’ I said wearily into the speaker unit. ‘Come in, please.’
‘RFP Deliverance’ a voice hissed at me almost immediately – it wasn’t Jaafar’s. ‘Go ahead, BenDragon Prime.’
‘I won’t be returning this copter to Rain Forest Port,’ I told the disembodied voice. ‘I’m going to land at Chaney Field. Notify Governor Eisen that we’re on our way and inform him of my intentions.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the Chaney Field Hangar
Approaching Chaney Field at night from the air, you find most of your attention drawn to the winking webwork of colored lights superimposed on the skeletal probeship gantry. This structure sits on the veldt like a great leafless Christmas tree, an anachronism and a reproach. The shuttle terminal and the flat-roofed support buildings southwest of the gantry, on the other hand, are delineated by strings of luminous pearls laid out in precise but elegant geometric patterns. The main thing about the entire complex, though, is that it looks lonely.
Even before we had passed over Frasierville, radio operators at both Rain Forest Port and Chaney Field were trying desperately to solicit responses from me. Although their voices crackled with competitive purpose, I ignored them. By the time I was preparing to set down on Chaney Field’s most far-flung and little-used landing strip, almost a kilometer from the terminal complex, they were hinting apologetically at my dismissal from Colonial Administration and threatening a preemptive laser bombardment – this last on the grounds that having no clearance to land, and adamantly refusing to explain our peculiar behavior, the pilot and passengers of BenDragon Prime were a potential menace to the safety of the personnel at Chaney Field.
Moses, I knew, might well dismiss me from my post, but he would never authorize an attack on our Dragonfly – it contained the sacrosanct person of Elegy Cather, who was under his protection. The laser batteries surrounding the field would therefore remain poised but cold in their bunkers, and I could put us down on the polymac with almost certain impunity.
That’s what I did. Elegy joined me up front, bemusedly, and in less than three minutes we were witnessing the arrival of a contingent of armored lorries and security vans. Headlights roped us in with their crisscrossing beams, and a loudspeaker atop one of the vehicles conveyed the un-negotiable demand that we surrender ourselves.
‘This is Chaney Field,’ Elegy said, still bewildered. ‘Did you come out here because of the Asadi?’
‘You don’t want me to try to get him a room at the hospital, do you?’
‘If you’ll remember, I didn’t even want you to try to capture him. The one who may require hospitalization is Kretzoi. Isn’t that a major reason we all came back?’
The loudspeaker demanded again that we surrender ourselves.
I activated our own outside speaker unit and informed the dutiful people holding us hostage that I was waiting for Moses Eisen. Although fully dark, it was still relatively early. Good. Moses wouldn’t have to drag himself from his bed in order to confront us . . . And within a matter of mere seconds, it seemed, a veldt-rover was speeding toward us from the terminal facility over the deserted runways.
Moses leaped from the veldt-rover and strode into the overlapping circles of light just below the Dragonfly’s cabin. Squinting, he gazed up at us.
‘I’ve brought an Asadi back with us,’ I told him over the outside speaker unit. ‘At the moment, he’s unconscious. Tranq’d.’
‘Everyone all right?’ Moses shouted.
Prepared for either a formal rebuke or an informal display of temper, I stared down speechlessly at my superior.
‘Is everyone all right?’ he repeated.
‘Kretzoi’s hurt,’ I told him. ‘He sustained cuts and lacerations to one arm while subduing our Asadi captive. He’s fatigued, too – badly fatigued. Otherwise, we’re fine, Elegy and I. Everyone’s fine.’
‘What made you land out here?’ Moses shouted.
‘The Asadi,’ I offered tentatively. ‘I didn’t think you’d appreciate my bringing it into Frasierville.’
‘I don’t much appreciate your bringing it out here, either. What are we supposed to do with it? You’re in flagrant violation of Article Twelve of the GKR’s, you know, and I’m less worried about the need to quarantine a native animal away from human population centers than I am about the breach of regulations.’ He cupped both hands around his eyes to cut the glare. ‘Do you mind if I come aboard?’ he called. ‘I feel like I’m on criminal display out here.’
‘There’s an Asadi aft,’ I reminded him over the outside speaker. ‘I thought that’s why you hadn’t already boarded.’
Still cupping his eyes, he shouted, ‘If I were afraid
