02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
"No - it carries another image."
"The image of a man of Jubal?"
"Yes."
"Is it the image of Obeid - he is your brother?"
"No - it isn't his image - nor, is it yours, Hammadi."
"Do you have the Pentacle with you? Perhaps, I know him - or perhaps, you
have met him already."
"The Pentacle is back in the Encampment. I haven't met the man yet - not on
this journey."
"Perhaps, you met him on the other journey?"
"You forget, Hammadi. I know nothing of the other journey."
It seemed to satisfy him. The Bole made a timely report.
"All paths are blocked by the voiceprint which is composed of ten letters."
"What are the ten letters?"
"Restricted information."
Kane swore again.
"Identify the voice."
"Restricted information."
Hammadi breathed.
"The Sharta, Siyulk was clever!"
Kane wracked his brains. He had the feeling that the answer was staring him
in the face but he couldn't see it.
"Perhaps, if you sleep, my father - the answer might come to you."
Kane doubted whether he would be visited by divine inspiration in his dreams
- unless the inner man took a hand - or the Masters of Psi who controlled him. The
thought did nothing to stir Quetzal from his mocking contemplation of their dilemma.
Kane conceded that he was tired and rolled himself in the Kous. Hammadi shrouded
himself and pulled up his hood. He had one more question before he sought the
meditative state.
"Tell me, my father. What was the name of the man who predicted the
existence of the four strains?"
"Hans-Jurgen - something. Damned if I can remember - "
He was half asleep. The surname wouldn't register.
"His name was Hans-Jurgen?"
"No! That was his first name - his name was - Hauptmeier! Hans-Jurgen
Hauptmeier!"
The impact of the revelation was quite startling. There was a sudden whisper
of life, a surge in the air, an increase in the activity of the dials and meters on the
control panel. Kane and Hammadi scrambled to their feet and looked at each other.
Kane felt real fear, perhaps the Bole had overstepped the mark and the Ship was about
to erupt into a hell of incandescent heat. This could have been their last coherent
moment. The Bole suddenly chanted.
"The Command Computer indicates that control of the Ship has been returned
to manual."
"What the hell is happening?"
"The Command Computer indicates that the voiceprint code has been
resolved."
The Bole's audio increased in pitch, it sounded as if someone had grabbed its
knackers.
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