Ellis, in his launch, fainted dead away and ran the boat headlong aground on the beach of Dutchman’s Key.
Vann reeled in his chair, teetering between shock and lunacy, until Weyman caught him and slid the Telethink from his head. It was minutes before Vann could speak; when he did, it was with a macabre flippancy that Weyman found more convincing than any dramatics.
“It’s come,” Vann said. “There’s an interstellar ship out there with a thousand-odd crew that would give Dali himself nightmares.”
Weyman had to shake him forcibly before he could continue.
“They’re sorry they can’t put down and help us,” Vann said. “Galactic regulations, it seems. But they feel they should warn us that they’ve let some sort of bloodthirsty jungle monster—a specimen they were freighting to an interplanetary zoo—escape in a lifeboat. It’s loose down here.”
“Dutchman’s Key,” Weyman breathed. “What kind of brute could live through a blast like that?”
“It left the lifeboat before the power plant blew,” Vann said. “They’re tracking its aura now. It’s intelligent to a degree—about on par with ourselves, I gather—and it’s big. It’s the largest and most vicious life form they’ve met in kilo-years of startrading.”
He frowned over a concept unsuited to words. “Longer than thousands. Their culture goes back so far that the term doesn’t register.”
“Ellis,” Weyman said. “Tell him to sheer off. Tell him to keep away from that island.”
Vann clapped on the Telethink helmet and felt real panic when he found the net vacant except for a near-hysterical Washington operator.