Einstein Dog (8 page)

Hindquist smiled, something he did not often do. This was a red-letter day. A
giant
red-letter day. The SMART dogs had been born, they'd all survived and one could reasonably presume they would live to maturity.

Then what?

His grin wilted ever so slightly, twisting into something resembling a grimace. Seeing this, Charlie Gowler's cheerful countenance sagged, too. “What's wrong Boss?” he asked.

“There's nothing wrong, Charlie,” Hindquist said, flashing his most dangerous grin. “Do you think there's something wrong?”

“No, Boss.”

“What about you, Bob? Is there anything out of sorts in your little world?”

“No, Mr. Hindquist.” The younger Gowler did his best to blend in with the furniture.

“And you, Doctor Molar?”

The doctor shook his head, denying vigorously even the possibility of a flaw in his day.

“Good!” Hindquist rubbed his hands together. “Then we can get on with Phase II of our little enterprise: the Acquisition Phase. You will all have key roles to play.”

They watched warily from their seats around his board room table. He'd outlined the operation in previous meetings, but the time had come for step-by-step analysis and “tasking”, as Hindquist called it. Each of them would be given the precise information necessary to carry out his role, but only Hindquist would have the ‘big picture', which involved the machinations of The Global Council.

He frowned. Sometimes he wondered if
he
had the complete picture himself. Were Vladimir and the other Council members keeping something from him? Why were they so pig-headed when it came to the SMART project? They'd seen footage of Libra outwitting Bob Gowler in Campus Wood; the research data from Professor Smith's computer projected intelligence measures right off the scale for Libra's pups.

What more did they need?

The Gowler brothers and Doctor Molar watched nervously as Hindquist pondered. They didn't like his dark moods.

“How is the K-Pack development coming along?” he asked suddenly.

“Very well,” Dr. Molar said. “We are working on two models: one we're calling the Combat Pack, the other the Spy Pack. The Combat Pack incorporates command-and-control technology into a bullet-proof vest and helmet. It will offer complete two-way communication, video reconnaissance, a full range of weapons, and real time tracking of the animal's vital signs. The unit's armor will be explosive, so the animal can be used as a weapon or destroyed if there is any risk of capture.”

“Impressive!” Hindquist enthused.

“The Spy Pack retains many of the command-and-control functions, but the dog will be able to operate covertly. We have modified some of our miniaturized technology for implanting. The prototypes have been tested on lab animals and work well. A SMART dog rigged up this way could be in constant communication with its handlers, but a casual observer would never be able to tell.

“Both versions of the K-Pack will be ready on time, Mr. Hindquist. We can go into production almost immediately.”

Hindquist turned to the Gowler brothers. “And how are things shaping up in your area of responsibility?” he asked.

Charlie shifted in his chair, grunting as he sat up straight and folded his hands on the table-top. “Everything's going great, Mr. Hindquist,” he reported. “We've been practicing with the tranquilizer blowgun and rehearsing our entrance strategy. We'll be ready.”

“You've tested the gun with a lethal dose?”

“Not yet, sir, but I've got Bob looking for strays.”

A shadow of impatience darkened Hindquist's face. “You need to get on with it,” he reprimanded. “And the rehearsals, how are they going?”

“We've practiced so much we could do the job with our eyes shut. We know every step by heart, and we've been monitoring things at Professor Smith's lab for weeks now. He's never there at three in the morning. It'll be a quick in and out, sir. No problem.”

Hindquist planted his elbows on the table and linked his fingers into a bridge, where he rested his chin. He stared at the Gowler brothers until they both squirmed in their seats.

“I don't have to remind you how important this mission is, gentlemen,” he cautioned.

They nodded.

“Do not fail.”

When Professor Smith entered the kennel the children and Elaine stopped their chatter. Although he was joyful for Libra and her offspring, Bertrand had not forgiven his father for keeping them in captivity.

“They're beautiful, aren't they?” Elaine said cheerfully, trying to break the tension.

Professor Smith agreed, stooping to stroke one of the pups.

Bertrand flushed angrily. His father didn't have the right.

“How utterly innocent newborns are,” Professor Smith was saying. “Lions, eagles, orcas, gators . . . even the most fearsome of predators are innocent at birth. In fact, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that animals never lose that perfect innocence. They kill without malice — without any sense that it might be
wrong
. They are all perfectly innocent . . . with one exception:
human beings
.”

He smiled sadly at Libra's wriggling litter. “We may not be alone anymore,” he mused. “These cuddly creatures will be capable of distinctly human accomplishments. They might even come to know the difference between good and evil.

“Still, they
are
beautiful,” he congratulated Libra.

The
thump, thump, thump
of her irrepressible tail greeted the professor's remarks.

After a long, awkward moment, Elaine coughed loudly. “Now!” she said, clapping her hands to get their attention. “There's work to do.”

They all stared uncomprehendingly.

She laughed, pleased with the effect. “Beautiful things must have names, and Libra's pups are not going to be christened SMART 74 through 78. We're done with that. They must have proper names, and we are going to name them this very moment.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Professor Smith objected.

“All right!” Bertrand cheered, cutting his father off.

“And since you're so keen, you go first Bertrand,” Elaine seconded, staring defiantly at Professor Smith. “Pick a pup and name him.”

For a second Bertrand's enthusiasm flagged, then he grinned gamely, turning toward Libra and her litter. As if they were aware of the solemnity of the occasion, her pups stopped their squirming. For a long while Bertrand studied them. Finally he reached into the litter and held up a tiny ball of mottled brown, white and black. “Einstein!” he pronounced.

“No!” Professor Smith groaned.

“Einstein!” Bertrand insisted.

Elaine recorded the name in a notebook. “Identifying features?”

“Extreme intelligence. Inventiveness . . . ”

“I mean physical features, Bertrand — things
all
of us can see, not just things
you
imagine.”

He blushed and laughed.

“Ariel. Your turn,” Elaine said.

Like Bertrand, Ariel kneeled in front of Libra and her pups, watching intently. More than once she reached out to pick her puppy, but retreated. At last she grabbed a white and black one, holding it in front of her. “Genie,” she announced.

“Why do you call her that?” Professor Smith wanted to know.

Ariel frowned, puzzled and a little annoyed. “It's her name,” she said matter-of-factly. “She's magical, and some day she's going to be set free.”

“Well, at least I'm not the only one communicating with dogs,” Bertrand smirked.

Elaine went next, choosing a brindled pup with a distinctive black circle around his left eye. “Captain,” she called him, but he didn't seem to like the name, struggling and growling helplessly in her hands. “Cap for short,” she offered, and the dog settled, allowing itself to be patted. “You will be a trusted leader among your kind.”

“Your turn Alex,” Elaine said, turning to him and holding up one of the two remaining pups. Reluctantly, he accepted the sleeping bundle in the palms of his outstretched hands. The pup nestled into the warm cavity, relaxing back into sleep, utterly trusting. “Breeze,” he decided, surprising even himself with the certainty of his answer. “She will flow gently around and through things, a spirit that soothes and mends. Breeze will be a healer.”

Libra's tail thumped approvingly. The others stared, surprised he could come up with a name that didn't include a number.

“Libra,” Elaine cried suddenly. Libra looked up without raising her head. “You must name the remaining pup, and since Bertrand is the only one who can read your thoughts, he must speak on your behalf. Is that okay, Birdie?”

Bertrand nodded. Libra closed her eyes. He settled cross-legged next to her, closing his eyes too and laying his left hand on her neck. Libra sighed happily. They sat like that for quite a long time, meditating.

Then something surprising happened. Bertrand felt a blast of intense cold and found himself surrounded by light.

“What are you trying to show me?” he asked. “All I see is fog.”

“Not fog, son,” Professor Smith corrected. “It's white light.”

For a second Bertrand couldn't grasp what was happening. Then he understood and rejoiced. “You see it too, Dad!” he cried.

“Yes,” Professor Smith said excitedly. “More than see it, I am in it.”

“In it?”

“It's all around me. Like snow. It tingles against my skin.

It's like a . . . ”

“Blizzard!” Bertrand shouted.

Instantly the telly vanished, the room materializing out of the splintering vision. Elaine and Ariel stared, open-mouthed; Bertrand grinned; Libra's tail thumped triumphantly.

“You saw it, too!” Bertrand whooped.

All Professor Smith could do was nod like a man who's just spotted a UFO.

Had any of it really happened? The naming of the pups? The astounding sensations of Libra's telepathy? Professor Smith raked his fingers through his hair, trying to settle himself in front of the computer. Once before Libra had sent him a telly, but her naming of Blizzard had left him awestruck. There was no denying her intelligence.

He'd set himself a simple enough task: enter the names of Libra's litter, their order of birth, weight, colour, sex, disposition, health. He squared himself to the keyboard and began again, pecking in the information. B-L-I-Z . . .

“Alex?”

“Shee-oot!” he jumped.

He'd been so engrossed he hadn't heard Elaine come in from the kennel.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It's okay,” he apologized too, swiveling in his chair and rolling back from the computer to face her. She glided past him, perching on a corner of his desk.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she stumbled.

“For what?”

She considered this for a second. “For being you, I guess.”

“You don't think I've been myself lately, do you?”