“Mesohippus,” Danchekker supplied. “Yes, indeed—which makes it not as complex a characteristic as one might imagine. Several separate lineages could then have acquired stripes independently, which would make the zebras simply realizations of a developmental path common to all members of genus Equus. It becomes even more interesting when one considers the chromosome counts, where a distinct correlation is seen to occur between . .
Duncan nodded as he sat with his arms wedged across his chest. He looked a little glazed and seemed content to let Danchekker carry on doing the talking.
Across the other table, Bob, the teacher, and the two Disney World executives were into politics.
“Maybe Ganymeans are instinctively what socialist idealists try to turn humans into,” Bob said. “But since it comes naturally to Ganymeans, nobody has to try and make them anything they’re not. So it works.”
“He’s got a point,” Al declared, turning to Keith. “We’re a competitive species—a competitive economic system fits our nature. Whether you like the thought of it or not, we work for what we are gonna get out of it, not the other guy. That’s the way humans are. The only way you can try to change them is through force. And people don’t like that. That’s why all these fancy ideas about molding human nature don’t work. They can’t work.”
Sandy pushed herself back in her seat and yawned. “I’ve just had three hectic days that I think have caught up with me,” she announced. “Sorry, but I’m going to be the first one to break up the party. So I’ll see you people tomorrow, wherever. The other side of Pluto, 1 guess.’
“Yes, get some rest,” Danchekker said. “I should, too, for that matter. You’ve certainly been busy. We didn’t give you much notice.’’
“Don’t forget that chip you wanted me to borrow,” Gina reminded her as she stood up.
“If you want to stop by my room, I’ll let you have it now,” Sandy said.
“What chip’s that?” Hunt asked, turning from the conversation between Danchekker and Duncan.
“Some tracks of Jevlenese music that I collected together,” Sandy said. “Some of it’s really wild stuff.”
“Vie likes music,” Gina said as she rose. “I don’t know if what you’re talking about would be his style, though. That was a Beethoven score that you had pinned up on the wall at your place, wasn’t it, Vie?’’
“Observant,” Hunt complimented. He took a sip of his drink. Did you know that his dot~ had a wooden leg?’’
(iiu looked we citeiii. ~‘hose?’’
~l~\~efl~ That \VO \\ here lie got hi~ iinpiraiioii——when it
walked across the room.” He raised a hand to conduct an imaginary orchestra. “Dah-dah-dah-dah . . . Dah-dah-dah-dah. See?”
Gina shook her head, smiling hopelessly. “Are all the English insane? Or did you take a class in it?”
“Come on, let’s go,” Sandy murmured. “They’re all past the crazy hour.”
“No, but you have to work at it,” Hunt said. He waved a hand at them both and grinned. “We’ll see you two at breakfast, then.” The rest of the group added a chorus of goodnights.
Gina and Sandy left the room and headed toward the cabins. “Guys and alcohol,” Gina said. “I didn’t want to be left that outnumbered.”
“I know the feeling,” Sandy agreed.
“Are we turning into old maids, Sandy?” Gina asked jokingly. “Six men back there, and the two girls leave together. Perhaps we really are as bad as they tell us.”
“You speak for yourself. I meant what I said: I’m exhausted.”
“Duncan was giving you looks.”
‘‘I know.’’
‘‘Net your type?’’
“Oh, Duncan’s okay. We’ve known each other since Floustoji. But you know what they say about keeping the complicated side of life separate from your work. I think it’s good advice.”
They reached the door of Sandy’s cabin, which she opened with an unvoiced command to VISAR. Inside, she picked up a briefcase, set it on the bureau top, and took out a flat box of the kind used for carrying storage chips. “How about a coffee before you go?” she asked Gina.
“Why not? Make it black, no sugar.”
“Anything else to go with it?”
“Uh-uh. Dinner just about filled me up.”