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As they were propelled into the shuttle, Varian knew what she would see. For all his erratic speech and mental mannerisms, Trizein was invariably accurate. She only wished his data disks would indicate how Dandy’s species got to Ireta. It was no consolation either to realize that Trizein was likely to prove that the warm-blooded pentadactyls were aliens to this planet and the fringes, with their cell construction of filaments, were native. It was all part of the total confusion of this expedition: planted or mislaid, exploring a planet already once cored, out of contact with the mother ship and in danger of a mutiny.

Trizein had shoved them into his lab and was now rummaging in his carry-sack, which swung from a bolt in the ceiling, withdrawing a carefully wrapped bundle of data storage disks. He located the one he wanted and, with an air of righteous triumph, inserted it into the terminal’s slot. There was no indecision about the keys he tapped and, as he pressed the print-out tab, he turned toward them with an expectant look.

Before their eyes was a replica, except for coloration, of Dandy. Neatly printed, the legend read HYRACOTHERIUM, TERRA-OLICOGENE AGE. EXTINCT. Where Bonnard’s pet had mottled reddish-brown fur, the creature on the screen was more dun and stripe: the difference necessitated by camouflage requirements, Varian realized, from one environment to another. An indication, also, that the creature had evolved to some extent here on Ireta. His presence made no sense yet.

“I don’t understand about Dandy being like this old Earth beast. He’s extinct,” said Bonnard, turning questioningly to Varian. “I thought you couldn’t find duplicate life-forms developing independently on spatially distant planets. And Ireta isn’t even the same sort of planet as Earth. The sun’s third generation.”

“We have observed several inconsistencies about Ireta,” said Lunzie in her dry comforting voice.

“Is there any question in your mind about this creature’s similarity now?” asked Trizein, exceedingly pleased with his performance.

“None, Trizein. But you were out in the compound before, why didn’t you notice Dandy’s similarity then?”

“My dear, I was out in the compound?” Trizein affected dazed surprise.

“You were, but your mind was undoubtedly on more important matters,” said Lunzie, a bit sharply.

“Quite likely,” said Trizein with dignity. “My time has been heavily scheduled with analyses and tests and all kinds of interruptions. I’ve had little time to look around this world, though I have, you might say, examined it intimately.”

“Do you have other extinct and ancient Earth-type animals on that disk as well as Dandy?”

“Dandy? Oh, the hyracotherium? Yes, this is my Earth paleontological disk, I have ancient species from . . .”

“We’d better stick to one set of puzzles at a time, Trizein,” said Varian, not certain she could absorb more conundrums today. If the fringes should turn out to be a life-form from Beta Camaridae, she’d go twisted. “Bonnard, the tape on the giffs is in the main console, isn’t it?”

“I put it on data-retrieval hold when I showed it to Cleiti and Terilla. Under the date, and giffs, Varian.”

Varian tapped up the proper sequence on the terminal and also transferred Trizein’s disk to the smaller screen and a hold. The terminal screen cleared to a vivid frame of a golden flier, its crested head tilted slightly, enhancing the impression of its intelligence.

“Great heavens above! And furred. Definitely furred,” cried Trizein, bending to peer intently at the giff. “There has always been a great deal of controversy about that among my colleagues. No way to be certain, of course, but this is unquestionably a pteranodon!”

“Pteranodon?” Bonnard squirmed, uncomfortable to hear such a ponderous name attached to a creature he liked.

“Yes, a pteranodon, a form of dinosaur, misnamed, of course since patently this creature is warm-blooded . . . inhabiting ancient Earth in Mesozoic times. Died out before the Tertiary period