The Mystery of Ireta_ Dinosaur Planet & Dinosaur Planet Survivors - Anne McCaffrey [112]
Using one collar flap as an improvised mask, she tilted the sled into the wind, letting it dislodge additional layers until, at last, the outlines of the matrix panels were visible though covered with a soft purple fuzz. Even the color looked dangerous to her.
Then she took heart because, if the mold had seeped through the console seals, it could also cause minute circuit breakage. If she could remove the remaining stuff . . . Varian laid aside the panel but kept the collar flap across her mouth and nose as she bent to examine the slotted matrices. She delicately ran one of Portegin’s tools along the edge of the matrix frame, the fuzz gathering on the shaft of the instrument, leaving the frame edge clean. She flicked the mess off the blade and cleaned the next portion. When she had cleared the accessible portions of the panel, she shook out Portegin’s kit to find something that could reach into crannies and corners. If she left any of that mold inside, it would undoubtedly proliferate again. She needed a long-handled, fine-bristled brush which was patently not among Portegin’s effects.
Then she recalled the greenish-blue plumage. “Fine feathered friends as well as furry ones,” she cried.
Nothing could have been more suitable and she set about dusting and cleaning, always careful not to inhale any of the particles she flicked away. The quill was in fact superior to a brush, bending to fit into crevices and corners which would have defeated a stiff-handled tool.
When Varian could see no more purple fuzz anywhere, she replaced the console cover and sealed it, for whatever that action was worth. Switching the power back on, she was delighted to see that all but one of the malfunction lights were off. She gave the console a solid thump with her fist and the last one blinked out.
She finished just as the first of the day’s rain squalls thundered across the inland sea. As she hurriedly closed the canopy, she noticed that she’d had three spectators. Middle Giff was among them, towering above his sidekicks. They regarded her with an unwavering orange gaze.
“And good morning to you.” She bowed solemnly. “I’ve cleaned the console and the sled appears to be operative again. I’m going down for a while but I’ll be back.” Varian held the firm opinion that all species liked to be noticed, whether or not the language could be understood. From the way the giffs cocked their heads attentively, they were certainly hearing the sounds she made. Keeping her tone cheerful, Varian went on. “I’m sure you couldn’t care less, but these blue-green feathers are superior mold dusters. Friends of yours?” She held up one feather and was certain that Middle Giff leaned forward to peer at it. “Couldn’t have fixed the sled without it.” She tucked Portegin’s tool kit into her belt and then walked to the edge of the cliff, to slide down the vine. “See you later.”
“See who later?” demanded Lunzie.
“The giffs.”
Lunzie eyed her skeptically. “And the sled?”
“Nothing but a case of purple mold.”
“You didn’t inhale any of it?”
“I’ve more sense than that. A feather, opportunely deposited in the sled,” and Varian displayed it once again, “cleaned what the wind didn’t. Sled’s all systems green. How’s Kai?”
“The same.” Lunzie stretched and pulled at stiff shoulder muscles. “I’ll wake Triv when I have to. We got another delivery while you were out.” Lunzie indicated the pile of leaves and fruit. “Apparently they have decided we need these,” and she pushed at the hadrasaurus nuts with a sour expression on her face.
“They don’t taste like much—”
“Like so much bumwad—”
“But they are full of protein.”
“I’ll put them through the synthesizer. Anything would improve their taste