“There was a sign?” he said. “I’m so sorry. Did I interrupt something? Does it have you check-mated?”
She glared at him, unamused. The Nano-T moved past the window behind her. Its stiff tail bobbed as the animal walked, reminding Nimson of a cement truck’s sluice. Of the animal’s total 18-foot length, the tail comprised half.
“Something’s wrong,” she said. “He’s not eating.”
Nimson walked up to the glass. The Nano-T was already at the far end of the habitat, past the exhibition-window’s edge. Nimson leaned close, his breath fogging the pane, and waited for the therapod to pace back their direction. “Feed it a live animal,” he said.
“No,” Jan snapped. She added with calm conviction: “I won’t be a party to that again.”
“Well,” he grumbled, scratching at his beard. “It’s your specimen.”
