“There was a lot of thick tough grass around the place where we saved Dandy, and that was a lot closer for them,” said Cleiti.
“You’re right there, Cleiti. I’ve thought the fliers might need the rift valley grass for some dietary requirement.”
“I have some of the vegetation from the grove of fruit trees, Varian,” said Terilla.
“You do? That’s great. We can do some real investigation. How clever of you, Terilla.”
“Not clever, you know me and plants,” said the girl, but her cheeks were flushed with reaction to the praise.
“I take back what I said about your stupid plants,” said Bonnard with unusual magnaminity.
“I’ll be very keen to see how mature their young are?” Varian said, having quietly considered the curious habits of the golden creatures for a few minutes.
“How mature? Their young? Isn’t that a contradiction?” asked Bonnard.
“Not really. You are born very young …”
Cleiti giggled. “Everyone is, or you wouldn’t be young …”
“I don’t mean age, I mean ability, Cleiti. Now, let’s see what comparisons I can draw for you ship-bred …”
“I lived my first four years on a planet,” said Terilla.
“Did you? Which one?”
“Arthos in the Aurigae section. I’ve touched down on two more and stayed for months.”
“And what animals did you see on Arthos?” Varian knew but Terilla so seldom volunteered any information, or had a chance to with such aggressive personalities as Cleiti and Bonnard.
“We had milk cows, and four-legged dogs, and horses. Then there were six-legged dogs, offoxes, cantileps and spurges.”
“Seen any tape on cows, dogs and horses, Cleiti? Bonnard?”
“Sure!”
“All right, cows and horses bear live young who are able to rise to their feet about a half hour after birth and, if necessary, run with their dams. They are therefore born mature and already programmed for certain instinctive actions and responses. You and I were born quite small and physically immature. We had to be taught by our parents or guardians how to eat, walk, run and talk, and take care of ourselves.”
“So?” Bonnard regarded Varian steadily, waiting for the point of her disgression.
“So, the horse and cow don’t learn a lot from their parent’s: not much versatility or adaptability is required of them. Whereas human babies …”
“Have to learn too much too soon too well and all the time?” said Cleiti with such an exaggerated sigh of resignation that Varian chuckled.
“And change half of what you learn when the info gets up-dated,” 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 change-over on the net carriers. Bells! but they’re organized. As neat a change-over 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 odour, 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-defence.
“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.