She gave Daniel a glance that he thought was wistful. “I’m willing to try, though,” she added.
“Good, good,” Daniel said warmly. They’d covered the subject to an adequate degree. In a conscious effort to sheer away from embarrassment he went on, “And now you can help me, if you will. The natural history database aboard the Aglaia is regional and only hits the high points of individual worlds, so to speak. I want to know what this is.”
He set the handkerchief on a box and opened the corners, darting his thumb and finger in to catch a leg of the trapped creature before he completely uncovered it. It was the size of his thumb and had four legs like all Kostroman insects. Briefly it unfurled dull wings, then folded them back onto its carapace. The creature’s only touches of color were the violet beads pulsing to either side of the neck.
“They live under water on tidal flats,” Daniel explained. “The purple color is gills that they spread out on the mud. They lure sucker fish in for dinner by looking like patches of algae.”
He grinned broadly. “Supplying dinner, not eating, that is. But when the pools dry, they fly into trees and wait for the tide to come in again. They’re triphibious, and I’ve never seen the like before.”
Adele seated herself at the working data console. “Give me keywords,” she said as she typed. “Insect, water and air living, fish-eating—what?”
“Family Barchidae,” Daniel said. “That’s a guess, but reasonable from the wing structure.”
“If you told me the thing’s name was Thomas . . .” Adele said with a faint smile. She continued to adjust her controls. “I wouldn’t question it. The only interest I have in bugs is when I find them in my apartment; which, I regret to say, is more often than not.”
As she worked, Daniel cleared his throat. He hadn’t any good reason to be upset, but . . .
“I am wearing a uniform,” he said, returning to Adele’s first comment in the corridor. “This is a utility uniform, perfectly proper for an officer who’s not expected to formally represent the RCN to civilians or members of other military forces.”
He plucked the loose, gray fabric. It probably did look like pajamas, but he had only one 2nd Class uniform—and the Full Dress, which wasn’t paid for, God knew how he’d do that, and which he’d had tailored for him because he was sure he’d need it for formal receptions on Kostroma.
Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ve been chasing life at the harbor’s edge and I thought these were more suitable. . . .”
Lasowski would skin him alive if she knew he’d been wearing utilities in public whatever the technical wording of the regulations. There wasn’t much chance the admiral would learn since she seemed barely conscious that Daniel was alive, but . . . In any case, Adele hadn’t had any intention of probing a sore point with her remark.
“Huh,” she said. “That’s odd. From the address this should be a sermon file in the headquarters of the Established Church.”
Daniel leaned over her shoulder. The air-formed holographic display was visible only over a narrow angle; all Daniel could see from behind her was a quiver of color with no more substance than an image of the aurora borealis.
” `As the hydropter wallows in the greatest foulness but nonetheless ascends into the upper air,’ ” Adele said. It was a moment before Daniel realized she was quoting. ” `So a man may hope, no matter how great his sin, to achieve the portals of heaven so long as he turn his face upward.’ ”
She touched her controls again. “I think,” she said dryly, “that if we search a zoology database under `hydropter’ we may find a more useful—there, I think.”
She rose, turning the console’s chair over to Daniel. He slid into it gratefully. At the top of the display area was the image of a creature identical to the one he’d bundled again into the folds of his handkerchief.
Daniel brought up the text. He could use the data unit—there was nothing unfamiliar about its controls—but he suspected he could have spent days at the terminal without getting the results the librarian had achieved in a minute or two.