Warhorse by Timothy Zahn Page A

put it into words.
    But if he really was merely reacting to the crass thought of killing something…
    Thirty meters away…and he could put off the decision no longer. “Garin, proximity lock on the lead creature’s head,” he instructed. “Set for eight meters; explosive needles. Rehfeldt, Boschelli—same orders on the other two.”
    â€œEight meters is cutting things pretty damn fine, Captain,” Garin grunted.
    â€œIt’ll have to do,” Roman told him.
    â€œRro-maa—”
    â€œQuiet, Llos-tlaa.”
    â€œRro-maa, it is not necessary,” the Tampy persisted. “They are not interested in us.”
    â€œThen who the hell are they interested in?” Garin snarled.
    Llos-tlaa’s hand appeared on his camera view, pointing. “They seek the analysis table.”
    â€œThey— what ?”
    And on the tactical display, the lead wolf-creature came to a sudden but smooth stop…at the rear of the analysis table.
    â€œIt wants the dead rabbit on the table,” Peyton breathed. “That’s all.”
    â€œCan’t be,” Singh objected. “That’s not a carrion-type physique. More like—oh. Oh .”
    â€œWhat?” Roman demanded. “Singh? What ?”
    Singh snorted, gently, under his breath. “We were wrong, Captain,” he said, an undertone of relief and growing amusement in his voice. “The transformation didn’t have to be just a fight/flight reaction; there’s a third reason for animals to want to look as big and powerful as possible. Namely—well, you can see for yourself. There he goes.”
    And even as they watched, the wolf-creature reared up on its hind legs and flopped onto the table, its forelegs straddling the CAT-scanner at the front. Getting an awkward-looking grip with its front paws, it reared its head up again and its entire body started to tremble…
    â€œI’ll be scrooned,” Burch said, a touch of awe in his voice. “It’s mating with the table.”
    â€œAll those electrical fields,” Singh said. “Remember, Miki, that you picked up a surge as they started toward you?”
    â€œThey were keying on the electronics in the scanners,” she sighed, her voice almost a moan. “They must have thought it was a female. Oh, my poor table.”
    And a moment later the analysis table, never designed for such treatment, abruptly gave up the ghost. Its legs collapsed, sending the wolf-creature sprawling to the ground amid a minor fortune in delicate electronic equipment. There was a flicker, almost unseen, as the table’s self-contained generator shorted to ground and burned out. “Everyone stay sharp,” Garin ordered. “They could still charge us.”
    Roman held his breath…but the worry was for nothing. Even as the wolf-creature scrambled out of the wreckage, his feet stamping last-minute damage into the scattered equipment as he got his balance, he and his companions were already starting the reverse transformation back to their smaller dog-forms. One last time the lead dog-creature swung his head around, again ignoring the humans and Tampies, and then together the three of them turned and loped back the way they’d come.
    â€œWell, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Burch commented, trying too hard to be casual. “You’d think the others would have been mad that they didn’t get their turn.”
    â€œMaybe when the table’s electric fields went off the animals’ sex drive went with it,” Singh offered. He’d been closer to the creatures than Burch had, and his voice had an honest tremor to it. “Or maybe they were just there as friends of the groom.”
    â€œNot funny,” Peyton growled. She was kneeling by the ruined table now, sifting through what was left of the equipment. “Well, that’s the end of the animal studies, at least for