Strata by Terry Pratchett

answer. The Company had built this artefact in secret. ‘Jalo’ had been a plant, sent to bring them here. Why would the Company build the disc? Kin thought she knew the answer, and she didn’t like it. But she couldn’t figure out why there had been such a performance to bring them here.
    But at least it was all logical. What other answer was there? Mysterious aliens? They would have to be very mysterious. If it was the Company, Kin hated it.
    ‘We are in danger from every quarter,’ said Marco enthusiastically. ‘We must wear our lift belts at all times. I suggest we move towards a centre of civilization. We might find some clues as to the disc’s origins.’
    ‘Then there’s our transport,’ said Kin, pointing. ‘I don’t know how long suit power lasts against gravity, but if there’s any sea to cross I’d like to do it in a boat.’
    ‘They may yet turn out to be hostile,’ said Marco, watching the men.
    ‘When they see you and Silver?’
    In fact introducing the aliens presented a problem. Kin solved it by walking down to the encampment naked. After her earlier appearance as the goddess of mercy, she was confident that the men would sooner rape an alligator.
    Leiv rushed towards her and sank to his knees. She looked down at him with an expression she hoped was benevolent.
    He was smaller than most of the crew. She wondered how he exerted his authority – until she saw the shrewd glint in his eye, even now, that said here was the master of the unsporting kick and the kidney punch. She felt glad of the stunner, now concealed in her palm.
    ‘You’re about to have an amazing opportunity to make new friends,’ she said sweetly. ‘This is one saga they’ll never believe. Okay, Silver, come on out.’
    The shand appeared at the decent distance, pushing through the bushes further along the beach. As she plodded nearer several men hurried off in the other direction. When they saw her tusks several others followed them.
    Grinning fit to burst, Kin walked across to the shand and put a hand in one huge, leather-palmed paw.
    ‘Stop smiling,’ she said through clenched teeth.
    ‘I fought it would put them at eafe?’
    ‘On you it looks hungry.’
    Leiv was still standing rooted to the sand as Kin led the shand up to him. She took the man’s hand in hers.
    ‘Kneel and grovel,’ she murmured.
    Silver folded up obediently. Leiv looked at her and then at Kin. Finally he reached out and prodded Silver’s arm.
    ‘Good boy,’ said Kin, beaming. He jumped back.
    To introduce phase two Kin began to whistle the old robot-Morris tune Mrs Widgery’s Lodger .
    Silver danced mournfully on the sand, gazing heavenward with an expression of acute distaste. But she held the rhythm. She also moved awkwardly. Kin, who had seen her move like oiled water, admired that last touch. Anything sufficiently ungainly was funny. Funny wasn’t dangerous.
    The men began to trickle back. Silver danced on, kicking up little sandstorms and shuffling from one foot to the other. Kin stopped whistling.
    ‘You’ve passed,’ she said. ‘They’re practically about to feed you lumps of sugar. Have a rest. Try to avoid yawning. Marco?’
    Marco hissed. He stepped out of the bushes.
    In his grey ship-suit and a cloak hastily made out of a thermoblanket he looked passably human, if emaciated. His eyes were too big andhis nose was too long. His face was grey as the suit.
    But he had masses of flame-red hair. It wasn’t really hair but it was red. Perhaps it made up for the eyes.
    The men watched him warily, but no one fled this time.
    One of them stepped up to Leiv and growled something, drawing a short sword. That led to a moment of confusion that ended with Marco crouched to spring and the man lying on the sand with his sword ten feet away. Then Leiv stopped twisting his arm and took a running kick. The man screamed.
    ‘Now we launch the boat,’ said Kin firmly.
    Silver padded towards the beached vessel and braced herself with a