feet of it came scuttling out from behind the table, or bed, or whatever it was. Its gaze, however, never left the intruder.
“Did I invite you into my lodgings, Marcus Walker of Earth?”
“No, but—”
“Did I extend a general invitation to every biped, multiped, and noped that they could encroach on my privacy whenever the whim might strike their atrophied brainpans?”
“I doubt it, but I—”
“Did I let it be known that I would welcome the presence in my residence of any smelly, warmed-over, limb-shorted, flat-faced, calcium-jointed primitives from worlds no one has ever heard of?”
“Now hold on.” Having begun by backing down the entranceway that led out of the boulder, Walker found that the stream of insults was beginning to override the initial dismay he had felt at having so visibly upset the inhabitant of the mist-laden ecosystem. “If you’ll give me half a chance, I’ll apologize.”
That finally persuaded the creature to cease its advance. Or maybe it was the dawning realization that not all of the intruder was immediately visible, and that a considerable portion of its very real bulk remained concealed by the tunnel.
“What makes you think,” it snapped in a fashion Walker could only categorize as bitchy, “that I would accept an apology from a barely cognizant creature as gross and mannerless as your own dismal, pathetic self?”
By now it had become clear to Walker that the only weapon the creature possessed was a biting tongue. Well, mouth tube, anyway. Startled and outraged as it was, if it had access to any kind of weapon it would surely have made its presence known by now. That in itself was highly unlikely, given the ever-present threat of Vilenjji oversight. Studying the occupant of the hollowed-out boulder, noting its significantly smaller size, Walker was convinced he could take the acerbic entity every four falls out of five. Whether the same thought had occurred to the creature itself he did not know. If he stopped retreating and advanced in a forceful manner, how much longer would it continue to bluster?
“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? That’s my apology, whether you accept it or not.” His curiosity about the mist-heavy environment satisfied, more than slightly discouraged by the reception he had received, he resumed backing out.
Once outside again, he grimaced as he straightened up. Mist had given way to rain. Nothing drenching—just a steady drizzle. He’d taken several steps in the direction of the grand enclosure when a voice, this time only tinged instead of dripping with sarcasm, caused him to look back.
“Human Walker.”
Turning, he saw the creature standing outside the entrance to its residence. Abode, a boulder, he mused whimsically. Was it representative of the creature’s dwellings, or had it, too, been captured along with its kind’s equivalent of a tent? Certainly the interior gave little indication as to the cephalopod’s true level of technological accomplishment.
“Why did you enter my enclosure?”
He hesitated. He had been gone long enough for George to be in a state of rising panic. But not, he noted, sufficient panic to tempt the dog into coming in after him. “My friend told me that he didn’t know if anyone lived in here. As many times as we’ve passed this opening in the course of our hikes around the grand enclosure, I found myself growing more and more curious about it. So I decided to find out. I thought that if there was anyone living in here, they might be injured and in need of assistance, or too scared to show themselves.” He eyed the creature, rock-steady on its ten flexible limbs. “You’re not too scared, are you?”
“Scared, scared. Let me see.” The creature managed to give the appearance of lapsing into deep thought. “No, I think ‘contemptuous’ is more probably the descriptive term you are searching for.”
Remember what George has told you, Walker thought, forcing himself to remain calm and composed. Be
“Did I invite you into my lodgings, Marcus Walker of Earth?”
“No, but—”
“Did I extend a general invitation to every biped, multiped, and noped that they could encroach on my privacy whenever the whim might strike their atrophied brainpans?”
“I doubt it, but I—”
“Did I let it be known that I would welcome the presence in my residence of any smelly, warmed-over, limb-shorted, flat-faced, calcium-jointed primitives from worlds no one has ever heard of?”
“Now hold on.” Having begun by backing down the entranceway that led out of the boulder, Walker found that the stream of insults was beginning to override the initial dismay he had felt at having so visibly upset the inhabitant of the mist-laden ecosystem. “If you’ll give me half a chance, I’ll apologize.”
That finally persuaded the creature to cease its advance. Or maybe it was the dawning realization that not all of the intruder was immediately visible, and that a considerable portion of its very real bulk remained concealed by the tunnel.
“What makes you think,” it snapped in a fashion Walker could only categorize as bitchy, “that I would accept an apology from a barely cognizant creature as gross and mannerless as your own dismal, pathetic self?”
By now it had become clear to Walker that the only weapon the creature possessed was a biting tongue. Well, mouth tube, anyway. Startled and outraged as it was, if it had access to any kind of weapon it would surely have made its presence known by now. That in itself was highly unlikely, given the ever-present threat of Vilenjji oversight. Studying the occupant of the hollowed-out boulder, noting its significantly smaller size, Walker was convinced he could take the acerbic entity every four falls out of five. Whether the same thought had occurred to the creature itself he did not know. If he stopped retreating and advanced in a forceful manner, how much longer would it continue to bluster?
“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? That’s my apology, whether you accept it or not.” His curiosity about the mist-heavy environment satisfied, more than slightly discouraged by the reception he had received, he resumed backing out.
Once outside again, he grimaced as he straightened up. Mist had given way to rain. Nothing drenching—just a steady drizzle. He’d taken several steps in the direction of the grand enclosure when a voice, this time only tinged instead of dripping with sarcasm, caused him to look back.
“Human Walker.”
Turning, he saw the creature standing outside the entrance to its residence. Abode, a boulder, he mused whimsically. Was it representative of the creature’s dwellings, or had it, too, been captured along with its kind’s equivalent of a tent? Certainly the interior gave little indication as to the cephalopod’s true level of technological accomplishment.
“Why did you enter my enclosure?”
He hesitated. He had been gone long enough for George to be in a state of rising panic. But not, he noted, sufficient panic to tempt the dog into coming in after him. “My friend told me that he didn’t know if anyone lived in here. As many times as we’ve passed this opening in the course of our hikes around the grand enclosure, I found myself growing more and more curious about it. So I decided to find out. I thought that if there was anyone living in here, they might be injured and in need of assistance, or too scared to show themselves.” He eyed the creature, rock-steady on its ten flexible limbs. “You’re not too scared, are you?”
“Scared, scared. Let me see.” The creature managed to give the appearance of lapsing into deep thought. “No, I think ‘contemptuous’ is more probably the descriptive term you are searching for.”
Remember what George has told you, Walker thought, forcing himself to remain calm and composed. Be
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