Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [18]
“Praise be unto Him, what the hell is this?” His startled attention flicked swiftly between implacable, uncompromising countenances. “Who are you people, and how dare you infringe on a species sanctuary! Do you have any idea where you’re trespassing?”
A middle-aged man wearing a loose, floppy camouflage hat turned and strode belligerently over to the diplomat. His tone was grindingly cold.
“We know exactly where we are, bug lover.”
These people were well equipped, Adjami saw. Were they sufficiently well equipped to steal through the automatic sentries and security apparatus that protected the colony? Any unsanctioned intrusion might logically be expected to come from the air. How well was the colony prepared to protect itself from unauthorized encroachment on the ground?
“If you want to insult me you’ll have to do better than that.” Behind him, Adjami noted that Hathvupredek had quietly slipped off her bench and had begun to edge backward, toward the portal that led down into the hive.
Grunting an expletive, the armed intruder roughly shoved Adjami aside. The diplomat stumbled but managed to maintain his balance. Several of the trespassing humans had already hurried on ahead to cut off the councilor’s retreat. Adjami’s eyes grew wide as the full implications of what he was seeing sunk in.
“What do you think you’re doing? This is a restricted, controlled area. I am Adjami L’Hafira, an elected representative to the world council! Leave at once before you force me to summon Reserva Security.”
Looking him up and down, the man grinned unpleasantly. “With what? I don’t see a communicator.” With the muzzle of his rifle he gestured in Hathvupredek’s direction. “You’re just out for a morning stroll with your favorite roach, ain’t you? Dirty bug lover. Traitor.”
Fanatics, Adjami realized. These were the most extreme representatives of the sizable xenophobic contingent that was opposed to any human-thranx rapprochement. Every political group spawned its fringe element. Here before him were the most radical of that radical band.
“What are you going to do?” he heard himself stammering. He cursed himself for the fear that shook in his voice.
A calm reply can never overcome the wildness of a madman’s expression. “Drive them out. Get them off our planet. Send them back to where they belong.” The gun muzzle twitched. “We had too many bugs before they came here and we’ll have too many after they’ve packed up and left, but at least we won’t be expected to share our lives and homes and resources with them.”
Adjami was not sure why he found himself backing up. It was not instinct. That would have dictated that he try to run, in which case they might ignore him. He was not their target, after all. As an experienced politician he could have tried arguing with them, if only to stall for time until local security became aware of the breach in its perimeter. Instead, he backed up, stumbled over and through the forest litter until he was standing in front of the thranx councilor. He could feel hard chitin bumping against his back, and his nostrils were filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming amaryllis.
“I…I won’t permit this. If you people leave now, if you renew any complaints you may have through the proper channels, I will personally see to it that your views receive a hearing.”
“We’re done with hearings,” snapped a short, frail woman who looked to be drowning in her bulky camouflage gear. To Adjami it appeared that the gun she was cradling was much too big for her. “Half the planetary government is composed of shortsighted idiots who don’t see what these filthy creatures are up to, and the other half has sold out in return for commerce we don’t need and promises of shared technology that haven’t materialized. What’s needed is for real humans to stand up and make a statement.” With one hand she stroked the inside of her rifle, and in response several telltales sprang to life within the barrel. “A loud statement.”
“Get out of the way,” someone else said. Inside himself, Adjami