In his tent, Sushi had set up his portable detector unit and strung out a few meters of antenna between the tent and a spiky plant a little distance away, trying to get a more precise fix on the signal they were homing in on.
“How much farther do we have to go, Soosh?” asked Mahatma, who was sharing the tent with Sushi and Double-X. “This desert travel is nowhere near as oppressive as Major Botchup, but it’ll never be my idea of relaxation.”
“Hard to get a precise reading,” said Sushi, fiddling with the fine tuning. “If I knew how strong the signal is at its source, I’d have a better idea. At a guess, it’s a couple more days of travel; but if the signal’s an order of magnitude stronger than I think, it could be a lot farther.”
“What do we do if it’s halfway around the planet?” said Double-X, who lay on top of his sleeping bag, propped up on one elbow to play a handheld computer game. “I ain’t walkin’ all that far, even if it does get me out from under the major’s nose for a while.”
“That’s for Qual to decide,” said Sushi. “It’s his people that are being invaded, and it’s a fairly big priority for them, so I suspect he’s not going to give up unless it’s obviously hopeless.”
“What if it ain’t obvious to him?” said Double-X. “He can live off the land, but we’re gonna run out of food sooner or later, even if we do catch one of these desert rats every now and then.”
“After seeing Garbo hunt, I would think we’d catch one more often than that,” said Mahatma. “She is very efficient once she spots a prey creature. And unless my nose is playing tricks on me, this one will make very good eating.”