“You’re a tough one,” Al said admiringly. “I’d hate to walk five kilos in this heat without a hat—and then go out on a call.”
Kennon shrugged. “It’s not necessarily toughness. I believe in doing one job at a time—and my contract reads veterinary service, not personal problems. The job comes first and there’s work to do.”
Copper wasn’t in sight when Kennon came back to the hospital—a fact for which he was grateful. He packed quickly, threw his bags into the jeep, and took off with almost guilty haste. He’d contact the Hospital from the Otpens. Right now all he wanted was to put distance between himself and Copper. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but at the moment propinquity was by far the more dangerous thing. He pointed the blunt nose of the jeep toward Mount Olympus, set the autopilot, opened the throttle, and relaxed as best he could as the little vehicle sped at top speed for the outer islands. A vague curiosity filled him. He’d never been on the Otpens. He wondered what they were like.
* * *
Otpen One was a rocky tree-clad islet crowned with the stellate mass of a Class II Fortalice. But this one wasn’t like Alexandria. It was fully manned and in service condition.
“Airboat!” a voice crackled from the dashboard speaker of the jeep, “Identify yourself! You are being tracked.”
Kennon quickly flipped the IFF switch. “Dr. Kennon, from Flora,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. You are expected and are clear to land. Bring your vehicle down in the marked area.” A section of the roof turned a garish yellow as Kennon circled the building. He brought the jeep in lightly, setting it carefully in the center of the area.
“Leave your vehicle,” the speaker chattered. “If you are armed leave your weapon behind.”
“It’s not my habit to carry a gun,” Kennon snapped.