Free Beowulf's Children by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle, Steven Barnes Page A

demanded.
    "I don't know. I think it's the planet surprising us again. And that damned eel has got everyone upset."
    Justin searched his heart, searching for the voice that would say that she was right, or wrong. She was right.
    "All right," he said finally.
    Linda grinned. "Now, I can't have two of my four favorite men mad at each other... "
    "Four?" Joe forced his mouth into a neutral position.
    "Sure, now that Cadzie is here..."
    "And your brother, I guess... and Cadmann?"
    "Sure."
    And whoever was the father of the baby would make five, Justin thought. He could see that Joe Sikes was thinking the same thing. There was a long and awkward pause. "Linda, isn't there some way to find Dad?"
    She shrugged. "Edgar might be able to. He's smarter than I am."
    Justin kissed Cadzie good-bye, and went back out to the main room. Edgar had taken Toshiro's place at the main console and was splitting his attention, watching some kind of holoplay through his goggles. Toshiro had another set. Whatever they were doing it was together, and not visible to anyone not wearing the head-mounted displays. Justin thumped him on the back of the head. "Edgar?"
    "Yeah?"
    "About that favor you owe me. I know that my dad doesn't have his tracer turned on, but can you locate him?"
    Edgar flipped the lid of his lenses up. He stood up to stretch, elaborately, fingers linked over his head. His pudgy body was an upright spear, its tip twisting in a slow circle. Edgar had hurt his back, long ago, and it had never quite healed.
    "Go straight into Sun Salutation," Toshiro said. "Head loose as you come down. Hands farther back, take your weight with just your arms as you jump straight back... hold it... elbows back, down slowly. Now inhale, chest forward-"
    Edgar was puffing a little as his head and shoulders came up, but he was way improved since the-last time Justin had seen him. Toshiro's training was having its effect. Short of breath, but he wasn't complaining. Edgar finished the sequence, grinned at Justin while he emptied and refilled his lungs, and said, "Cadmann's not wearing a personal tracer. He disabled the tracer on the skeeter."
    "Dad likes his privacy."
    "You bet. I don't know exactly where his lodge is."
    "Nobody does, except it's south of Isenstine Glacier."
    Edgar grinned at him wickedly. "Well... what's in it for me?"
    "First pick, next catch."
    "Even stringfish?"
    "No problem."
    "Well, okay. Take over the watch, Toshiro-san?"
    "Certainly. I relieve you, Edgar-san."
    "Thanks. Okay, Justin, let's see what I've got." Edgar led him over to another console away from where Toshiro sat. "Geographic has images of the fuel dumps he uses. Here-" Edgar's fingers tapped silently at a virtual keyboard display. The wall in front of them turned into a vast field of ice and rock: the wasted expanse of Isenstine Glacier that fed both the Amazon and Miskatonic. Three tiny dots glowed redly. "There. About eight hundred miles apart."
    "Spare fuel cells. Each cell takes him about five hundred miles. So he carries two backups, and has emergency dumps as well. That's Dad."
    "Not that they're roughly in a straight line-"
    "And the last one ends about three hundred miles north of the end of the glacier. Dad and Moms are collecting plants. The nearest cacti are probably six hundred miles from the south tip of the glacier."
    "So the lodge is probably in this area somewhere-"
    "Assuming that the straight line holds true," Justin said.
    "Yeah. Well, additional evidence-"
    Edgar spoke softly to Cassandra. "Cassie, I want to look at previous dates when Colonel Weyland took his tracers off-line."
    "Weyland data is restricted," Cassandra said.
    "Pretty please," Edgar said, and muttered something else Justin couldn't hear.
    "Wilco," Cassandra said.
    Edgar grinned. "Search Geographic satellite watch for unusual infrared spots during just those periods." He looked at Justin, face screwed up in speculation. "Ha. Has he ever made an emergency landing?"
    "Last year. A rotor almost