Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [33]
“It does not matter what I think.” Being possessed of a highly amenable and easygoing personality, Joshumabad was noticeably unhappy at the direction the conversation had taken. Not that he had any choice. His mandate called for him to visit, learn, report, and deliver instructions. This he had done and would continue to do, no matter how unpleasantly he was received.
Yeicurpilal hastened to intervene between the two, conversationally as well as physically. “Nilwengerex is right. We are doing our best here. All the wishes of the council will not make the humans move any faster.”
“Not even as fast as that larva.” With a foothand, Nilwengerex pointed off to his left.
The girl who was running out of the palm trees and down onto the beach could not have been more than eight or nine. Even when inclined fully forward to make use of all six legs, the three thranx were taller. Leaning back on trulegs only, they would tower over her. She was as brown as the scattered pieces of shattered driftwood that studded the shore like so many gypsy hieroglyphs, with straight dark hair and dancing eyes the color of small black shells. Laughing and giggling, she bent to pick up a stick and throw it toward Sulawesi. It did not quite reach the water.
Turning slightly and bending in quest of another missile, she caught sight of the thranx. Having halted at her unscheduled intrusion, the aliens stood watching quietly. Joshumabad in particular was at once captivated and repelled. From his preflight studies he knew what very young humans looked like, but this was the first time he had seen one in the flesh. The unexpected encounter left him only momentarily speechless.
“Is…is it dangerous?”
“Not usually.” Nilwengerex responded in his usual dry, clipped tones. “Not one this small. The adolescents are potentially lethal. Unlike us, their bodies assume adult form and bulk preposterously in advance of their minds. But one such as this should be quite harmless, though even infants are capable of surprising violence.”
Straightening, the little girl came toward them. She was wide-eyed and unafraid.
“What should we do?” Joshumabad fought hard to suppress the panic that was rising within him.
“Nothing,” Yeicurpilal informed him. “Remain as you are. Let the larva come to us.”
Not without some concern, Joshumabad did as he was told. The girl halted a couple of arm’s lengths away, one finger pressing against her lower lip. “Hello, bugs. What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Nilwengerex asked her in Terranglo so fluent that Joshumabad was startled. He knew the specialist was competent in the local language, but he’d had no idea he was so skilled. “This is a restricted area. Only authorized adult humans are supposed to have access.” He looked beyond her. “How did you get in?”
“Hole in the fence,” she replied without hesitation. “Maman says the big storm last week made it.” She glanced back over a shoulder, though not to the degree a thranx could manage, and gestured importantly with one finger. “We’re having a picnic.”
Nilwengerex looked to his superior. “We must report this violation.”
Yeicurpilal indicated resignation. “Of course. The humans will be most upset.”
“At this point any kind of reaction we can get from them would be welcome. The council’s official impatience notwithstanding—” He arched his antennae significantly in Joshumabad’s direction. “—I look forward to the resumption of proper negotiations and exchanges.” So saying, he stepped toward the child.
Joshumabad’s instinctive reaction was to restrain the other male. Aware that Nilwengerex was the specialist in thranx-human interaction and he only a recently arrived newcomer, he held back. Lowering his head, Nilwengerex extended a truhand in an odd fashion.
“I am Nilwengerex. These are my friends, Yeicurpilal and Joshumabad. We are pleased to meet you.