everything will work on the day we choose to act.” He went silent, busy with all four hands and sixteen digits.
“Hey!”
Beskodnebwyl, whose knowledge of human speech forms verged on fluency, recognized the word as an exclamation of accusation. What mattered, he knew from his painstaking studies, was the intensity with which it was delivered, and whether querulousness was implied. It struck him that in this instance all the relevant ingredients were involved.
“What are you doing there?” The human who had spoken now adopted a tone more belligerent than curious. Beskodnebwyl did not panic. There were only two of the bipeds, and they were not clad in the attire of the several maintenance teams that serviced the fair. That meant they were only casual fair-goers, not unlike himself and his three companions. Behind him, he could sense Tioparquevekk concluding his work and hastily downpacking his equipment. Despite a rising sense of anxiety, the other three thranx worked smoothly and efficiently. With four hands, they were not prone to fumbling.
If this human did not occupy an official position, what right did it have to bark accusingly at Beskodnebwyl and his companions? Assuming a defensive stance, he moved forward to confront the human. It was rangy, even for its kind. Standing tall on his four trulegs, Beskodnebwyl could not have raised his head to the level of the biped’s chest. Nonetheless, he was not intimidated. Proximity to the lumbering, lurching mammal brought on feelings of disgust and mild nausea, not fear.
“I will tell you as soon as you have shown me your license.”
Looking bemused, the two men halted. The taller one continued to do all the talking. “What license?”
“The one that gives you the authority to challenge peaceful visitors to this fair.” Behind him, Beskodnebwyl sensed his companions shifting their stances to form the rest of a traditional defensive four-headed square. Whatever happened now must be resolved quietly, he knew, lest the confrontation draw unwanted attention.
The smaller of the pair spoke up, speaking to his friend. “Not only talkative bugs, but sarcastic ones.” His hand, Beskodnebwyl noted, was hovering over a slight bulge in the garment that covered his lower body. The Bwyl was not worried. If the human flourished a weapon, Sijnilarget, Meuvonpehif, and Tioparquevekk would be ready to respond with firepower of their own. Though differing greatly from thranx in their physical makeup, human bodies reacted similarly to an encounter with high-velocity explosive pellets.
The taller one’s tone became slightly less combative. “I asked you what you were doing here.” His head bobbed in a gesture Beskodnebwyl knew was meant to indicate the building behind them. “This isn’t part of the fair exhibit. There’s nothing here for the public to see.”
“We know,” Meuvonpehif commented readily in her heavily accented Terranglo. “It’s the central communications facility.”
Beskodnebwyl was furious enough to reach back and snap one of the female’s antennae. By her physical reaction, he could see that she recognized her error almost as soon as she made it. Perhaps, he hoped agitatedly, the humans would find the comment innocuous.
They did not.
The tall man chose to continue to direct his words to Beskodnebwyl. “Is it really? That’s interesting. How do you know that? It isn’t marked as such on the outside.”
“It’s function is quite obvious,” Beskodnebwyl replied a bit too quickly. “The necessary apparatus for the transmission of information dominates the roofline.”
The human nodded again. Beskodnebwyl thought his expression now indicated thoughtfulness, but it was difficult to tell. Mastering the range of human facial expressions took time and patience. “So you’ve been studying the communications center from other vantage points besides this one. That’s even more interesting. I wonder what the Dawn police would make of your
“Hey!”
Beskodnebwyl, whose knowledge of human speech forms verged on fluency, recognized the word as an exclamation of accusation. What mattered, he knew from his painstaking studies, was the intensity with which it was delivered, and whether querulousness was implied. It struck him that in this instance all the relevant ingredients were involved.
“What are you doing there?” The human who had spoken now adopted a tone more belligerent than curious. Beskodnebwyl did not panic. There were only two of the bipeds, and they were not clad in the attire of the several maintenance teams that serviced the fair. That meant they were only casual fair-goers, not unlike himself and his three companions. Behind him, he could sense Tioparquevekk concluding his work and hastily downpacking his equipment. Despite a rising sense of anxiety, the other three thranx worked smoothly and efficiently. With four hands, they were not prone to fumbling.
If this human did not occupy an official position, what right did it have to bark accusingly at Beskodnebwyl and his companions? Assuming a defensive stance, he moved forward to confront the human. It was rangy, even for its kind. Standing tall on his four trulegs, Beskodnebwyl could not have raised his head to the level of the biped’s chest. Nonetheless, he was not intimidated. Proximity to the lumbering, lurching mammal brought on feelings of disgust and mild nausea, not fear.
“I will tell you as soon as you have shown me your license.”
Looking bemused, the two men halted. The taller one continued to do all the talking. “What license?”
“The one that gives you the authority to challenge peaceful visitors to this fair.” Behind him, Beskodnebwyl sensed his companions shifting their stances to form the rest of a traditional defensive four-headed square. Whatever happened now must be resolved quietly, he knew, lest the confrontation draw unwanted attention.
The smaller of the pair spoke up, speaking to his friend. “Not only talkative bugs, but sarcastic ones.” His hand, Beskodnebwyl noted, was hovering over a slight bulge in the garment that covered his lower body. The Bwyl was not worried. If the human flourished a weapon, Sijnilarget, Meuvonpehif, and Tioparquevekk would be ready to respond with firepower of their own. Though differing greatly from thranx in their physical makeup, human bodies reacted similarly to an encounter with high-velocity explosive pellets.
The taller one’s tone became slightly less combative. “I asked you what you were doing here.” His head bobbed in a gesture Beskodnebwyl knew was meant to indicate the building behind them. “This isn’t part of the fair exhibit. There’s nothing here for the public to see.”
“We know,” Meuvonpehif commented readily in her heavily accented Terranglo. “It’s the central communications facility.”
Beskodnebwyl was furious enough to reach back and snap one of the female’s antennae. By her physical reaction, he could see that she recognized her error almost as soon as she made it. Perhaps, he hoped agitatedly, the humans would find the comment innocuous.
They did not.
The tall man chose to continue to direct his words to Beskodnebwyl. “Is it really? That’s interesting. How do you know that? It isn’t marked as such on the outside.”
“It’s function is quite obvious,” Beskodnebwyl replied a bit too quickly. “The necessary apparatus for the transmission of information dominates the roofline.”
The human nodded again. Beskodnebwyl thought his expression now indicated thoughtfulness, but it was difficult to tell. Mastering the range of human facial expressions took time and patience. “So you’ve been studying the communications center from other vantage points besides this one. That’s even more interesting. I wonder what the Dawn police would make of your
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