"Yes sir," Bemmelman admitted with a sigh. "I don't mind telling you he was supposed to find out what and where the bird ate. But it damn near tore him to pieces."
Cosmo didn't say anything.
Bemmelman leaned forward, tapped his knee again. "Unfortunately, the birds are rare as the dodo. I've spent quite a bit of money trying to locate another. The only one that's been caught is in the Solar Apiary on Earth."
Mention of the Ormoo in the Solar Apiary stirred Cosmo's memory. He stared at Bemmelman with narrowed eyes. The Ormoo in its wild state matured to its full size in a few months. The one which the Terran expedition had secured, hadn't reached adulthood until its nineteenth year. The discrepancy had been puzzling ornithologists ever since. Theories had flooded the scientific journals, but to date, no one had explained satisfactorily why a wild Ormoo should mature over twenty times as fast as the same bird in captivity.
"Well?" Bemmelman rubbed his nose, his eyelids drooping.
"If I show you where the Ormoo feeds, what guarantee have I that you'll carry out your side of the bargain?"
"Just my word," said Bemmelman with a chuckle. "Just my word."
Two rouge-like spots sprang out on Cosmo's cheek bones. He came halfway erect in his chair.
"No violence, please." The planter held up his hand. "Look behind you."
Cosmo turned his head. The two Jovian primitives were crouched to spring. He sank back in his chair, managed a tight grin. His lips felt dry, his stomach hollow.