Quentin Abbott was almost always cool, calm, collected. Almost always.
But he burst into Kosoff’s office, startling the mission director and Littlejohn, who were intently watching the holographic video from Gamma.
Half rising from his desk chair, Kosoff growled, “What do you mean by bursting in here? Can’t you see—”
“We’ve found it!” Abbott fairly shouted. “We know how those animals cross from Beta to Gamma! It’s fantastic!”
“This isn’t the time—”
“No, no, no!” Abbott insisted. “You’ve got to see this! Now!”
Abbott’s usual stiff-upper-lip reserve was completely gone. He was practically prancing with excitement. Kosoff saw that the astronomer’s tunic was rumpled, its front half unsealed, as if the man had been sleeping in it. A patch of his silver-gray hair flopped down messily over his eyes.
“They ride their eggs from Beta to Gamma, like pumpkin seeds shot through the air!”
Intrigued despite himself, Kosoff eased back down onto his desk chair and said grudgingly, “Show me.”
Abbott turned toward the three-dimensional viewer and called out, “Master computer, show Astronomy Department vid, today’s date.”
The holographic display switched from Brad and the Gammans to a satellite view of the planet Beta. Off in one corner of the scene was an animated graph that showed Beta and Gamma rushing toward each other.
“That’s where they were the day before yesterday,” Abbott said, his tone changed to his lecture mode, but with an edge of excitement in it.
Still on his feet, he pointed as he said, “The two planets will pass each other close enough so that their atmospheres are sucked into a sort of spinning vortex, like a waterspout that temporarily connects the two of them.”
The view of Beta clouded over rapidly while the animation showed a twisting, twining bridge linking the planet with Gamma.
“This presentation is all speeded up, of course,” Abbott explained eagerly. “Factor of thirty-six hundred: one second on-screen represents ten hours in real time. I can move it faster still if you like.”
Kosoff said, “This will do. For now.”
The satellite view of Beta zoomed in dizzyingly.
“Here’s the ground on Beta,” said Abbott. “You can see how the wind is picking up. Near hurricane force and getting stronger.”
Littlejohn said, “Those rocks look like—”
“They’re eggs!” Abbott interrupted. “Each one of them bears one of those six-legged cats.”
“But how—”
As they watched, one of the boulder-sized eggs lifted off the ground and began rising, spinning, fluttering in the swirling wind. The animation showed tiny dots flowing from Beta to Gamma.
“They’re not boulders, of course. Much lighter. Light enough to ride on the wind currents from Beta to Gamma.”
“Impossible,” spat Kosoff.
“But true,” Abbott countered. “Watch.”
As he spoke, the holotank went dark.
Unperturbed, Abbott explained, “The satellites were torn from their orbits. Flung to god knows where by the gravitational forces of the two planets’ near collision.”
The three-dimensional view lit up again to show a scene of stormy skies, torrential rain pouring down, and in the distance a forest of massive trees being tossed and even uprooted by tremendous winds.
“That’s the view from the ground on Gamma,” Abbott said matter-of-factly. “From one of the sensors your planetology people strewed around on the surface. We lost several of them, of course. Hurricane-force winds and then some.”
A meteor trail blazed across the dark sky.
“One of the eggs,” said Abbott.
Kosoff snarled, “You can’t expect me to believe that those objects are eggs, the same as we’ve seen on Beta.” With a sneer, he added, “They’d be fried by the heat of entry into Gamma’s atmosphere. And scrambled, as well.”
“Watch.”
Another meteor flashed past, and then they saw one of the boulder-sized objects soar over the forest and glide toward the ground, its nose and flattish bottom charred black. It tipped slightly upward just before it landed and skidded a few dozen meters on the rain-soaked ground before coming to a jarring halt.
Kosoff stared at the screen. In the driving rain, he could see the object’s skin crack open, and a powerful-looking six-legged cat struggle out of its egg.
Littlejohn gasped with awe. “They are eggs. Like the ones we saw on Beta.”
“They are indeed eggs,” Abbott said, sounding proud. “There’s your proof.”
“It’s fantastic,” Littlejohn said.
“But it’s true,” countered Abbott.
“And these beasts kill the Gammans?” Kosoff asked.
“Apparently they do,” Abbott said. “Not my department, of course. You’ll have to ask the biologists about that.” Then he added, “We’ve had splendid cooperation from the planetology team; the observations from Gamma’s surface are their work, of course.”
“Of course,” Kosoff muttered.
Finally dropping into one of the cushioned chairs in front of Kosoff’s desk, Abbott summed up, “So the Beta beasts ride the vortex between the two planets and land on Gamma. Quite fantastic, isn’t it?”
Kosoff nodded. “I see it, but I still find it hard to believe.”
Littlejohn added, “And the beasts annihilate the Gammans.”
“Apparently so.”
“Then what happens to them?”
Abbott shrugged. “Not my department. Ask the biologists. But my guess is that those great cats die off when Gamma enters the deep-freeze part of its orbit.”
“I should think so,” said Kosoff, still staring at the three-dimensional display.
“You’ve got a man down there, haven’t you?” Abbott asked.
“Yes. He’s with the Gammans.”
“Rather a dicey situation for him, I should think.”
“To say the least,” replied Littlejohn.
Kosoff raised a stubby finger. “Wait. There’s much more to this than you realize.”
“More? What more?”
“This can’t be natural,” Kosoff said. “A predator born on one planet, flying a sort of spacecraft to find its prey on another planet. An occurrence that only happens once in half a century or so, when the two planets are closest to one another.”
Suddenly looking uncomfortable, Littlejohn suggested, “Maybe the biologists can explain it.”
Kosoff swung his head negatively. “It’s not natural,” he insisted.