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“And change half of what you learn when the info gets updated,” she added, sympathetically. “The main advantage humans have is that they do learn, are flexible and can adapt. Adapt to some pretty weird conditions . . .”

“Like the stink here,” put in Bonnard.

“So that’s why I’m curious about the maturity of the fliers at birth.”

“They’d be oviparous, wouldn’t they?” asked Bonnard.

“More than likely. I don’t see that they’d be ovoviviparous . . . too much weight for the mother if she had to carry her young for any length of time. No, I’d say they’d have to be oviparous, and then the eggs would hatch fledglings, unable to fly for quite some time. That might account, too, for the fishing. Easier to supply the hungry young if everyone cooperates.”

“Hey, look, Varian,” cried Bonnard who had not left off watching through the screen, “there’s a changeover on the net carriers. Bells! but they’re organized. As neat a changeover as I’ve ever seen. I’ll bet the fliers are the most intelligent species on Ireta.”

“Quite likely, but don’t jump to any conclusion. We’ve barely begun to explore this planet.”

“Are we going to have to go over all of it?” Bonnard was briefly dismayed.

“Oh, as much as we can while we’re here,” she said in a casual tone. What if they had been planted? “Apart from its odor, Ireta isn’t too bad a place. I’ve been in a lot worse.”

“I don’t really mind the smell . . .” Bonnard began, half in apology, half in self-defense.

“I don’t even notice it anymore,” said Terilla.

“I do mind the rain . . .” Bonnard continued, ignoring Terilla’s comment. “And the gloom.”

At which point the sun emerged.

“Can you do that again whenever we feel the need of sunlight?” asked Varian as the girls giggled over the opportuneness.

“I sure wish I could!”

Once again the angle of the sun projected a distorted shadow of the sled on the water and the fish, large and small, shattered the surface in vain attempts to secure the reality of that shadow. Varian had Bonnard tape the attacks for later review. It was an easy way to catalogue the submarine life, she said.

“I sailed once on shore leave at Boston-Betelgeuse,” said Bonnard after the sun and the predatory fish had deserted them.

“You wouldn’t catch me sailing on that!” said Cleiti, pointing to the water.

“I wouldn’t, but something else would, wouldn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Catch you, silly face!”

“Oh, you’re so funny!”

Additional fliers emerged from the clouds to relieve the net carriers who sped up and away, as if pleased to be free of their chore. The convoy, strengthened by the reinforcements, picked up speed, veering slightly east toward the highest of the prominences. They were not, as Varian had assumed, going to have to cross the entire sea to reach a home base.

“Hey, that’s where they’re heading. I can see other fliers on the cliff top, and the front is all holey, with caves!” cried Bonnard, delighted.

“They live in caves to keep their fur dry and their fledglings safe from the sea creatures,” said Terilla with unusual authority.

“Birds have feathers, stupid.”

“Not always,” Varian replied. “And those fliers appear to have fur, which is, sometimes, a variation of a feather in some beasts.”

“Are we going to land and find out fur sure?” asked Bonnard in a ponderous tone of voice so everyone caught his pun. Cleiti swatted at him and Varian groaned, shaking her head.

“No, we’re not landing now. It’s dangerous to approach animals when they’re feeding. We know where the fliers live now. That’s enough for one day.”

“Couldn’t we just hover? That won’t disturb them.”

“Yes, we could.”

More of the golden creatures emerged from crevices and caves in the cliff and gracefully swooped up to the summit, which Varian could see was relatively flat for about five hundred meters, where it dropped off into very rough and boulder-strewn slopes.

“What’re they going to do now?” asked Bonnard. “That net’s too big to get in any one of those cave entrances . . . Oh . . .” Bonnard’s question was answered as the entire group of fliers