Fifty meters off, Minnie was expectantly rigid, her lens aimed in his direction. She was poised for a running start toward him should the opportunity present itself.
Screw Worm finally surfaced. Angrily, Bigboss kicked him back toward Minnie, who returned—disappointed, it seemed—to her work.
The huge Tzarean ship, bristling with the most formidable weapons its makers had devised in millennia, recovered from subspace emergency, adjusted its concealment shield and slipped into orbit.
Assemblyman Mittich, second in command, used a stout tail to brace himself against shifting inertia and watched Vrausot, Chancellor of the Tzarean Shoal, hiss his nagging instructions.
"The data, Kavula!" he demanded. "Punch out the data!"
Cowering before the impatience of the Tzarean World's highest authority, the pilot beat upon the control computer with a taloned fist. "It will be feeding out soon—I hope."
Mittich pressed forward into the anxiety that filled the compartment with hydrostaticlike intensity. It was well past time for his isotonic saline soaking and already the coarse drying process was chafing his chitinous skin. He was even sensitively aware of each scale as it grated against the one beneath it.
But he couldn't withdraw. Not when they were so close to determining whether an eons-old culture was doomed to extermination.
The computer clacked its readiness and belched out the new data. Vrausot snatched up the perforated strip and his massive head swung up and down in satisfaction.