interest?”
The biped was preternaturally perceptive, Beskodnebwyl thought tightly. This was threatening to get out of hand. He could feel his companions shifting their stances behind him, preparatory to . . .
He was contemplating how best to dispose of the humans’ bodies when the short human appeared to lose control of himself. Drawing the bulge from his shirt, he aimed a device that was as lethal-looking as it was compact directly at Beskodnebwyl’s head.
“Goddamn dirty bugs want to get their filthy claws on everything!”
Reacting almost instantaneously, the trio of thranx behind Beskodnebwyl extracted from their thorax pouches weapons of their own. Confronted unexpectedly by thrice his number, the stocky biped hesitated, unsure now how to proceed, his initial bravado much reduced by the revelation that his intended victims were armed. He stared at them, glanced up at his companion, then back at the thranx. Like the rest of him, the muzzle of his weapon wavered.
Admirably calm, the tall human stepped between his friend and the armed defensive square. “Now, this I would not have expected. Piet is quite right: It is unthinkable to have disgusting, germ-ridden quasi-insects such as yourselves stumbling about this close to a vital human installation. It inevitably raises the question of why you would want to do so. The presence of concealed weapons at a peaceable venue like this fair greatly enhances those questions. As does the undeniable skill and readiness with which they have just now been deployed. Yet you are not members of an officially recognized organization.”
“I dispute nothing you say, but what does it prove save that thranx are always ready to defend themselves from reasonless attack?” Beskodnebwyl was watching the tall human carefully. The man’s stocky companion he had already dismissed as unimportant, despite the fact that he was the one holding the weapon.
“It may prove a very odd thing indeed.” The human smiled, fully exposing his teeth. Beskodnebwyl had to force himself not to turn away from the distasteful sight. “It suggests that you and I may be here for the same purpose.”
Beskodnebwyl had nothing to frown with, and the human could not understand the thranx’s gestures. It was left to inadequate words to convey subtleties of meaning. “And what purpose could that possibly be?”
“Elkannah?” the shorter man murmured uneasily. “Are you sure about this?”
“I always trust my instincts, Piet. If there’s another explanation, we’ll divine it in short order.” Turning his attention back to Beskodnebwyl, he continued as calmly as if requesting a change of shuttle seat assignment. “You and your dirt-dwelling friends are here to disrupt this fair, aren’t you? You’re planning to do something to, or with, local communications. You are here to cause trouble.”
This was it, Beskodnebwyl reflected. They would have to kill both bipeds, and kill them quickly. All it would take would be a gesture from him. The humans would not recognize it, and so the one holding the gun would not have time to react. But . . . he was curious.
“That’s the kind of observation that could get an individual killed. Why shouldn’t it?”
“Because my friends and I are here for the same reason. From civility, we plan to bring forth chaos. We don’t like your kind, you see. Among us are many, too many I fear, misguided people who think we should cuddle up to you bugs, make you part of our cultural and political lives, let you set up your teeming, odious colonies on our own worlds. That sort of thing is reprehensible, unnatural, and must be prevented at all costs.” He stopped, waiting while the bugs digested his words.
“How very astonishing.” At a gesture, the trio behind him lowered, but did not put up, their weapons. Somewhat reluctantly, the shorter human did likewise. “Your speech is admirable, except that for sake of veracity the word phrase for
stinking soft flesh
should
The biped was preternaturally perceptive, Beskodnebwyl thought tightly. This was threatening to get out of hand. He could feel his companions shifting their stances behind him, preparatory to . . .
He was contemplating how best to dispose of the humans’ bodies when the short human appeared to lose control of himself. Drawing the bulge from his shirt, he aimed a device that was as lethal-looking as it was compact directly at Beskodnebwyl’s head.
“Goddamn dirty bugs want to get their filthy claws on everything!”
Reacting almost instantaneously, the trio of thranx behind Beskodnebwyl extracted from their thorax pouches weapons of their own. Confronted unexpectedly by thrice his number, the stocky biped hesitated, unsure now how to proceed, his initial bravado much reduced by the revelation that his intended victims were armed. He stared at them, glanced up at his companion, then back at the thranx. Like the rest of him, the muzzle of his weapon wavered.
Admirably calm, the tall human stepped between his friend and the armed defensive square. “Now, this I would not have expected. Piet is quite right: It is unthinkable to have disgusting, germ-ridden quasi-insects such as yourselves stumbling about this close to a vital human installation. It inevitably raises the question of why you would want to do so. The presence of concealed weapons at a peaceable venue like this fair greatly enhances those questions. As does the undeniable skill and readiness with which they have just now been deployed. Yet you are not members of an officially recognized organization.”
“I dispute nothing you say, but what does it prove save that thranx are always ready to defend themselves from reasonless attack?” Beskodnebwyl was watching the tall human carefully. The man’s stocky companion he had already dismissed as unimportant, despite the fact that he was the one holding the weapon.
“It may prove a very odd thing indeed.” The human smiled, fully exposing his teeth. Beskodnebwyl had to force himself not to turn away from the distasteful sight. “It suggests that you and I may be here for the same purpose.”
Beskodnebwyl had nothing to frown with, and the human could not understand the thranx’s gestures. It was left to inadequate words to convey subtleties of meaning. “And what purpose could that possibly be?”
“Elkannah?” the shorter man murmured uneasily. “Are you sure about this?”
“I always trust my instincts, Piet. If there’s another explanation, we’ll divine it in short order.” Turning his attention back to Beskodnebwyl, he continued as calmly as if requesting a change of shuttle seat assignment. “You and your dirt-dwelling friends are here to disrupt this fair, aren’t you? You’re planning to do something to, or with, local communications. You are here to cause trouble.”
This was it, Beskodnebwyl reflected. They would have to kill both bipeds, and kill them quickly. All it would take would be a gesture from him. The humans would not recognize it, and so the one holding the gun would not have time to react. But . . . he was curious.
“That’s the kind of observation that could get an individual killed. Why shouldn’t it?”
“Because my friends and I are here for the same reason. From civility, we plan to bring forth chaos. We don’t like your kind, you see. Among us are many, too many I fear, misguided people who think we should cuddle up to you bugs, make you part of our cultural and political lives, let you set up your teeming, odious colonies on our own worlds. That sort of thing is reprehensible, unnatural, and must be prevented at all costs.” He stopped, waiting while the bugs digested his words.
“How very astonishing.” At a gesture, the trio behind him lowered, but did not put up, their weapons. Somewhat reluctantly, the shorter human did likewise. “Your speech is admirable, except that for sake of veracity the word phrase for
stinking soft flesh
should
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