Phylogenesis - Alan Dean Foster [114]
“Shut up!” Cheelo snapped. His tone more than the curt human words induced the poet to hold his peace. Or perhaps it was the hand gesture that accompanied the admonition; a sharp, downward chopping motion that Desvendapur had not encountered before.
The poet waited until he could stand the continuing silence no longer. Mindful of the human’s warning, he kept his voice low as he moved forward to stand alongside the biped. The human’s aspect and attitude were indicative of a sudden wariness.
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t you hear it? That vibrating sound?”
Desvendapur gestured affirmatively, then remembered to nod. “Certainly. While our sense of hearing is not as acute as yours, it is perfectly adequate.” He tested the air with his antennae, seeking some radical new aroma, but caught nothing. “Some local animal, a forest dweller.”
“Like hell it is.” Putting out a hand, Cheelo urged the alien back into the undergrowth. Together they concealed themselves as best they could behind and beneath houseplants that here in their natural habitat grew to the size of small trees.
Wordlessly, he pointed at the eagle as it came gliding down the creek, its head panning slowly from side to side. Putting aside the queasiness that arose as a consequence of contact with soft, flexible mammalian flesh, Desvendapur indicated that he understood the situation. Only when he was certain that the eagle had passed well out of sight did Cheelo emerge from the brush and indicate that the thranx could do likewise.
“I do not understand.” Antennae dipped and weaved balletically as Desvendapur gazed down the streambed, then turned back to the still-watchful human. “That was a particularly dangerous creature? Poisonous, perhaps, or stronger than it appeared?”
“That wasn’t no damn bird at all. Eagles scream. They don’t hum.” Single-lensed brown eyes regarded the alien. “It was a machine. I’ve seen it before, or another one like it. I’m hoping it was nothing more than a routine, preprogrammed forest service overflight. I don’t know what their inspection and censusing schedule is like. Didn’t realize until I came here that the forest service used such sophisticated scanners. I guess they disguise them like the local critters so as not to alarm the fauna.”
“This forest service you speak of may in fact not do that.” Desvendapur eyed his human companion evenly.
Cheelo frowned. “Bug, is there something you’re not telling me?”
Truhands crocheted the atmosphere. “There might be. Just as there is something you are not telling me. If I explain myself, will you reciprocate?”
“Ay. Yeah, sure.” Still listening for any indication that the camouflaged scanner might be returning, Cheelo crossed his arms over his narrow chest and settled himself back against a tree.
“I suspect that cloaked device does not belong to any recognized human agency.”
The perplexed human’s expression contorted. “What do you mean, ‘recognized’?”
“I think I know why it was so well disguised. It was not meant to be identified by your local authorities. It was designed to blend in with the local life-forms. And I think it was looking for me.”
“For you?” Cheelo hesitated, then nodded knowingly. “Oh, right. Your fellow expedition members are looking for you. What is it? Past time for you to rejoin them?” Though still hopeful of finding some way of making money off the alien, Cheelo remained ambivalent about its presence and realized he wouldn’t exactly be averse to its departure, either. It was slowing him down.
“Truly. But it has been time for me to rejoin them ever since I left.”
The human shook his head impatiently. Explanations were not supposed to further confuse. “I don’t get it.”
“I am not supposed to be here.”
“What? You snuck off on your own?” Cheelo chuckled softly. “How about that? A bug with balls.”
“Since I have yet to master your extensive catalog of colloquialisms I will