The Winds of Altair by Ben Bova

sound almost like an angry hissing.
    Amanda made a sour face. "That's no way to treat him!"
    "There's no other way!" Carbo snapped.
    "What if you make him sick? Or kill him? What then?"
    "But we'll take good care of him. For god's sake, Amanda, don't make things more difficult than they already are! There's too much at stake."
    "That's exactly my point," she said.
    For an instant the two of them stood facing each other, the slim black woman and the jowly stubble-bearded man, electricity crackling between them.
    Despite herself, Amanda smiled. "Now don't go getting yourself into a sweat, dottore. I'm on your side. I just don't want us to get so excited about this that we hurt the . . . test subject."
    Carbo broke into a relieved grin. "Okay. Okay. I understand. I knew I could count on you."
    With a shake of her head, Amanda replied, "What you don't know could fill libraries."
    "Eh? What do you mean by that?"
    "Forget it," she said airily. "I was just thinking out loud."
    With a puzzled frown, Carbo said, "Sometimes, Amanda, you worry me."
    "Sometimes I worry myself."
    Carbo stared at her for a long moment. Then, as if shaking himself free from a trance, he said abruptly, "Okay. You make certain that he is well-exercised and well-fed while he sleeps. Another big day coming up tomorrow. The animal ought to get to the camp by midday if nothing goes wrong."
    He headed for the door and Amanda asked, "Where are you going?"
    "For food. We camp here tonight," Carbo pointed toward the window and Jeff, "with him."
    "Oh. Sure."
    "I'll bring you dinner on a tray. What would you like to eat?"
    "Steak," said Amanda, "blood rare."
    She laughed when he grimaced.

CHAPTER 5

    Crown awoke when the sun came up, brilliant Altair, a sullen smudge of light penetrating the unbroken gray clouds of morning.
    These hills were good, almost like home. He could smell food in among the trees. And the shade from their high leafy branches would ease the heat of midday.
    No. He can't stay. Must get to the camp.
    Slowly, stiffly, Crown got to his feet. His nose twitched and he stared into the still-dark shadowed woods. He rumbled with hunger. But he turned away and started up toward the crest of the hills and then down the other slope, heading out toward the broad rocky desert that stretched as far as the eye could see.
    Overhead a great winged beast soared among the scattered low clouds. Crown watched it as he trotted out from the shelter of the last trees and onto the sparse grass that edged the stones of the desert. He had never seen anything like this flying beast before.
    It was much bigger than the birds of the hills and forest that he had known. It seemed to have only a few feathers, out at the tips of its wings. Its beak was short and powerful, and flashed with teeth. It flew with hardly a flap of its leathery wings, soaring easily on the heat currents that were already rising from the desert wasteland facing Crown.
    Crown stopped at the bottom of the hill, where the grass thinned away and finally ended altogether. There was nothing but bare rock and heat ahead of him. He turned and looked back toward the woods that covered the upper slopes of the hills. The wind that was blowing down from there felt cool and told him of water and food animals living among the shady trees. He growled, tossed his mane—and headed grudgingly out into the desert.
    His control's fantastic! That poor animal must be starving.
    It's more important to get to the camp than to feed it. The animal can go hungry for a day or two.
    And if it dies of hunger?
    It won't.
    Yes, but if it does?
    We'll have to find another one.
    And what happens to Jeff ?
    We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
    It was brutally hot. The rocks were broiling, and as Altair climbed higher into the clouded sky the heat fromthe rocks scorched Crown's paws.
    A lizard-hawk soared high overhead, as if it was waiting with all the calm patience of inevitable death. Crown pressed on, driven by a force he could