The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [113]
“Of course,” observed Gator, politely noncommittal.
“We subsequently agreed to see if we could unlock the mystery of both the thread and the material of which it had been fashioned by pooling our resources and working together.” Her eyes flicked to Whispr. “We bring different skills to the inquiry.”
“I’ll say,” murmured the admiring Gator.
Whispr hurried to change the thrust of the discussion. “How’d you lose the police?”
“The same way you did. By making use of my knowledge of the Savannah wetlands and the submarine abilities of my maniped aquatic companions. Give me a live being every time that actually lives in a difficult environment over mechanical devices supposedly built to cope with it.” He turned back to Ingrid. “Tell me what you know about the material and the thread and then I’ll tell you what I’ve learned since your friend Whispr-man and I were compelled to part ways.”
She found herself hesitating and looking over at Wizwang. “Maybe this Meld knows Whispr and maybe Whispr’s had contact with him, but he’s new to me. How do I know he won’t suck up everything we’ve learned and then just hop in his boat and waft on us?”
Whispr struggled to repress a pleased smile. “You’ve learned a lot in a short time, Ingrid.”
She flashed him a look. She was still angry at him because of the zoe, but her initial white-hot outrage was starting to dim. For one thing, try as she would she could not get the memory out of her mind of the utterly devastated look on his face when his ruse had been discovered.
Their host spoke up. “I told you last night that I take suitable precautions. I’ve delved into Mr. Gator’s background and reputation, and I’ll vouch for him.”
Ingrid peered across at the wizened ten-year-old Meld. “And who vouches for you, short stick?”
Whispr whistled tellingly while Gator contributed a knowing snigger.
To his credit Wizwang showed no annoyance. “If you don’t feel that you can trust me by now, then why are you even here?”
Ingrid hesitated. Aware that the resulting silence was of her own doing, she realized it was up to her to break it.
“All right, then.”
After a confirming nod from Whispr, whose judgment she had after all agreed to rely on in such matters, she proceeded to detail in layman’s terms everything she and her slender companion had managed to learn, separately and together, about the thread. Much of this was already known to the Alligator Man from his own hastily performed research in his own lab. The details concerning the inscrutable cerebral implants—their nature, the fact that they had thus far been reported only in those of a certain age who had undergone bad melds, and all the rest—were however entirely new to him. Noting that he was recording everything, Ingrid concluded uneasily but with resignation.
“You’re up-to-date now on everything we know. Now tell us what you know. What, if anything worthwhile, you’ve learned since you and Whispr—parted.”
“I think you’ll find something to interest you, doctor.” Gator’s tone had changed from jovial to somber. “Not that I know anything about the contents of your storage thread—if there are any. I don’t. What I did succeed in finding out, after casting my head upon the waters in the form of a great many exceedingly covert inquiries, is that there actually is one company that is rumored—and I have to emphasize rumored—to be working on a manufacturing process that would allow for the utilization of metastable metallic hydrogen.”
Whispr spoke up. “For storage? Or for the kind of implants Ingrid just told you about? Did you find out anything that might explain how these implanted devices disappear when someone starts to examine them?”
“The business of entanglement? Nothing on how that might be accomplished, no. Sounds like magic to me.” He eyed Ingrid meaningfully. “But then, so does the ability