It wasn't until the fourth week of our voyage that I realized the lump of rock in the cargo hold was alive. It lifted a leathery head and regarded me solemnly as I maneuvered a grav-cart into place in one of the racks. I stumbled under the impact of its gaze.
Roarke misinterpreted my surprise. "They're amazing critters, aren't they? Live for years on nothing but air and a few drops of water."
"Useful traits for a pet on a long voyage," I ventured.
"Pet?" Roarke laughed uproariously. "That's a week of protein there, boy."
The rock-turtle watched us leave.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
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