Dirge - Alan Dean Foster [47]
The colony was well on its way to advancing from dependent to transitional autonomous status, with its own independent world government, when the Glistener entered into orbit above Weald. A small, compact deep-space vessel engaged in scientific exploration, it stopped to pay its respects to the inhabitants of the new human colony world before continuing on its planned course through the upper Orion Arm in the general direction of the galactic center.
Visitors from the ship were greeted with full courtesy and formalities, if not warmly. Though naturally suspicious of outsiders, the settlers could not very well refuse to welcome representatives of a race with which humankind enjoyed officially cordial relations. The thranx were granted permission to visit several communities. Each group was accompanied by experienced members of the planetary government who saw to it that the visitors’ plans and itineraries were well publicized in advance. The majority of colonists had never seen a thranx, and it would not do to have children or susceptible individuals panic at the sight of them. That would have been discourteous.
There was little need to worry. The thranx intended a short visit at best. A species that favored 100 percent humidity and air temperature to match, they were not at all comfortable in the brisk, wintry atmosphere of Treetrunk. Despite their personal discomfort, their inborn concern and curiosity caused them to persevere, if only for the brief duration of their stay.
Dutifully, they admired the energy exhibited by the human settlers and gestured approvingly at the skill with which the colony had been laid out and was being developed. Their hosts thanked them when appropriate while privately wishing to be rid of the inquisitive, talkative, pleasantly odiferous bugs so they could get back to the business of building the colony.
Unlike her fellows, there was one senior thranx who seemed, in spite of the unkind climate, reluctant to leave. Every question her hosts answered sparked another two or three. Interested in everything, she was satisfied by nothing. While her hosts despaired of satisfying her, she continued blithely on her way, inquiring endlessly about the most inconsequential matters.
“The local population is approaching six hundred thousand,” her weary guide informed her. “Of these, some two hundred thousand plus are concentrated in and around Weald, with another ninety-five thousand at Chagos Downs. Allowing for geological constraints, the rest are scattered in small communities and outlying camps that follow the equator.”
“You are not expanding to north and south as well?” Cocooned within cold-weather gear that exceeded in insulating properties anything a human would wear except at the poles, the thranx’s face was barely visible. Twin antennae peeped hesitantly from beneath the brim of the headgear.
The guide sighed tiredly. “Of course we will, but for right now there’s no reason to do so. The most amenable zone is being promoted first. When our settlements meet on the other side of the planet, that will be the time to expand into the colder forests.”
The senior thranx nodded, a gesture they had developed the habit of using among themselves as well as in the presence of humans. “Then you are doing well here?”
“Extremely well.” The guide could not help but add, “In addition to the regular runs from Earth and the occasional visit from New Riviera or Proycon, the Pitar have been really supportive. Not just with verbal encouragement, but with material assistance as well. Especially during the first two years of settlement, the help they provided was invaluable.”
If the thranx understood this observation to be a dig at her kind for not offering more, she did not acknowledge its tone. “We are glad