Part 17 (1/2)

”That would sound so much better without the 'my.' ”

” 'In head?' ”

She waggled a forefinger at him. ” 'Dear.' ”

”You are becoming positively flirtatious.” Perhaps she was rebounding from Veg.

”Was Taler right on the s.h.i.+p?”

The s.h.i.+p. Again he looked into her eyes, remembering. The Earth government had not waited for the trio's report; it had sent four agents to Paleo to wrap it up, which agents had duly taken the normals prisoner and destroyed the dinosaur enclave. ”Interesting,” Taler had remarked while Tamme watched, amused. ”Dr. Potter is even more enamored of Miss Hunt than is Mr. Smith. But Dr. Potter refuses to be influenced thereby.”

”I suppose he was,” Cal said.

She sighed as though she had antic.i.p.ated more of an answer. ”There must be more to life than this.”

He glanced at her again, uncertain which way she meant it. He elected to interpret it innocuously. ”There is indeed. There are any number of game figures, each with its own history. Some patterns die out; others become stable like the square. Still others do tricks.”

Now she was intrigued. ”Let me try one!”

”By all means. Try this one.” He made a tetromino, four dots:

Aquilon pounced on it. ”There's an imaginary grid, right? The dots are really filling in squares and don't mesh the same on the bias?”

”That's right.” She was quick, now that she had the idea; he liked that.

”If this is position one, then for position two we have to add one, two, three spots, and take away -- none.” She made the new figure:

”Correct. How far can you follow it?”

She concentrated, tongue between her lips. At length, she had the full series. ”It evolves into four blinkers. Here's the series.” She marked off the numbers of the steps in elegant brackets so as the avoid the use of confusing periods.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7].

[8] [9] [10] [11].

”Very good. That's 'Traffic Lights.' ”

”Fascinating! They really work, too! But still, I don't see the relevance to -- ”

”Try this one,” he suggested, setting down a new pattern: ”That's the 'R Pentomino.' ”

”That's similar to the one I just did. You've just tilted it sideways, which makes no topological difference, and added one dot.”

”Try it,” he repeated.

She tried it, humoring him. But soon it was obvious that the solution was not a simple one. Her numbered patterns grew and changed, taking up more and more of the working area. The problem ceased to be merely intriguing; it became compulsive. Cal well understood this; he had been through it himself. She was oblivious to him now, her hair falling across her face in attractive disarray, teeth biting lips. ”What a difference a dot makes!” she muttered.

Cal heard something. It was the hum of a traveling machine. The bait had finally been taken!

He moved quietly away from Aquilon, who did not miss him. He took his position near the light fountain. The next step was up to the mantas.