Howling Stones Read Online Free Page B

to shed as much of his attire as possible.
    From a small pool in the sand he splashed a little water on his face. Warm on contact, it cooled him as it evaporated. What slipped into his mouth, while not drinkable, was mild to the taste, Senisran’s world ocean having a lower salt content than those of Earth. There were no continents here to erode and replenish the seas with rivers of dissolved minerals.
    Once the travel case was placed to Pulickel’s satisfaction, the pilot looked longingly toward the lounge and its single occupant, who showed no inclination to leave her shady spot and come to greet them. Obviously disappointed, he bade his ex-passenger farewell and good luck before returning to his craft.
    Pulickel stood just above the water’s edge and watched as the stubby transport’s engine whined back to life. Backing out of the shallows, the compact craft pivoted until it was facing southward. The jets roared, water rooster-tailed, and in a moment it was lifting clear of the glassy surface, climbing steadily into a cloudless sky. It circled once over the islet and, like a fleeing dragonfly, vanished into the distance.
    Pulickel stared at the place where it had disappeared until he could no longer hear the fading rumble. As his eyes dropped, a dozen shafts of dark blue erupted from the water some thirty meters out in the lagoon. Averaging two meters in length, they looked like Olympic javelins equipped with multiple exhaust pipes. They were followed by something that resembled a flattened disk of barbed wire. It landed just short of where the javelins had reentered the water. In this hopscotching fashion, prey and predator made their way across the lagoon.
    Only when all was quiet again did he kneel to inspect the lower half of his case. It was wet, but only on the outside. The unit was air- as well as watertight.
    Straightening, he turned his attention to the three trees and the lounge beneath. Since his support seemed less than eager to make his acquaintance, he started up the gentle slope to introduce himself. She ought to come down to meet him, he thought. This wasn’t the best way to begin a long-term working relationship. Mindful of his self-assured boast to the pilot, he resolved not to make an issue of this minor breach of protocol. At least, not right away.
    He halted beneath the shade of the first tree and studied the portable flex-lounge. Fashioned of an aerogel composite, it looked as if its occupant was lying on an illusion. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that she was something of an illusion herself. Having worked with hundreds of specialists and contact personnel on a dozen alien worlds, he was prepared for almost anything.
    He was not prepared for Fawn Seaforth.
    But then, no one ever was.
    Putting aside the chill-cup she’d been holding, she swung her legs off the side of the lounge and rose to greet him, hand extended. As she turned from the sun, her wraparound eyeshades lightened from dark to neutral so that he could see her eyes. They were bright blue.
    “Hi! I’m Fawn Seaforth. And unless Dispatch has fouled up again, you’re Pulickel Tomochelor.”
    He swallowed. “Pleasure to meet you, Seaforth. You—you’re out of uniform.”
    She laughed, a wonderful, melodious sound that the breeze caught and cast out over the lagoon, as if she were trolling for poets. For an instant, the air in the immediate vicinity was as full of life as the sea below.
    “Actually, as you can see, I’m just about out of everything.” She spread her arms wide to reveal what he could already see: that the bathing costume she was wearing would fit comfortably in any pocket of his shorts.
    “When I’m by myself, which is all of the time except when I’m making a supply pickup, I rarely wear anything. It’s just too damn hot. Of course, I wouldn’t think of wearing anything remotely like this in Ophhlia, but this isn’t Ophhlia. This is Parramat. The natives, naturally, could care less.” She paused, waiting for