Anne McCaffrey - Dinosaur Planet II - The Survivors
5
“Nnnnoooo.” Tor’s response was neutral. Certainly the non reappearance caused it no concern.
Kai sighed with resignation and found himself wondering if, out of all impossibilities, Gaber had
been right: their little group had been planted. Gaber certainly was, since he’d been killed at the
outset of mutiny. But the third group, the avian Ryxi who planned to colonize their planet, surely
they must have wondered at the silence from the Iretan group? Immediately Kai was reminded that
in his last contact with the Ryxi’s temperamental leader, the creature had flown into a rage at Kai’s
innocent disclosure that Ireta had an intelligent winged species. But the Ryxi colony ship would
have been piloted by another species, probably humanoid. Surely ... “Ryxi?” asked Kai hopefully.
A long silence ensued while Tor sent a single tentacle into the control console. Such a long
silence that Kai was nerving himself to repeat the question, thinking Tor had not heard him.
“Nnnooo connntaaaact.”
The inference was plain to Kai: the Thek did not care to keep in touch with the highly excitable,
and by Thek standards, irresponsible winged sentients.
Kai was relieved. It was embarrassing enough to call the Thek for aid, but to have to apply to the
Ryxi would result in considerably more humiliation. The Ryxi would thoroughly enjoy spreading
such a grand joke throughout the universe at the expense of all wingless species.
Kai could move his head and neck easily now, and checked the line of his sleeping companions.
Varian’s hand lay where it had fallen from his in the relaxation of sleep. Tor had placed a dim light
somewhere in the shuttle, probably for Kai’s reassurance since the Thek did not require light to see.
Kai touched Varian’s hand, still cold and rigid in the thrall of cryogenic sleep. He watched, holding
his own breath, until he saw the slight rise and fall of her diaphragm in its much reduced life-
rhythm. Then he relaxed, exhaling.
He turned back to Tor but sensed its complete withdrawal: it had become a large smooth rock,
flattened on the bottom to conform to the deck, extruding not so much as a lump, bump, or
pseudopod. This was the Thek contemplative state and Kai knew better than to interrupt it.
He lay there until his nose began to itch. He stifled a sneeze with a finger under his nose, and
then felt foolish. A sneeze couldn’t rouse a Thek. Much less the sleepers. That desire to sneeze was
the prelude to a growing twitchy restlessness in Kai which he recognized as the result of the
stimulants Tor had injected. The Thek had not said that he couldn’t move: it had only said to rest.
Surely he had done enough of that.
Kai began the muscle toning Discipline and, although he worked up a fine sweat, he soon
realized that cold sleep had done him no discernible harm. Even the healed wrist responded
perfectly. The plaskin Lunzie had used to set the break had long since flaked away. That meant
they’d been asleep at least four or five months.
He looked at his wrist chronometer, but the device was blank. Even ‘long-life’ battery tabs wear
out. How long ago?
Exercise produced another effect and Kai, rising carefully, found his way through the cold-sleep
mist that shrouded the shuttle to the toilet. Returning, he checked each of the sleepers, observing
the curious transformation sleep worked on faces. Bonnard, for instance, in the middle of his
second decade, looked more adult than Dimenon, twice the boy’s age. Portegin looked as if he still
worried about the effectiveness of the beacon he had contrived. Lunzie, the pragmatic medic, was
smiling, a rare sight while she was awake, and her face had assumed a gentleness at odds with her
ascorbic temperament. She’d admitted to having undergone sleep suspension before: her records
had listed her chronological age but there had always been that detachment about Lunzie that struck
Kai as bemused tolerance: as if she’d already seen most of what the universe had to offer and
wouldn’t spare the energy to be excited by anything anymore.