Stetson’s voice hissed suddenly through Orne’s surgically implanted speaker: “How’s it look?”
“Alien.”
“Any sign of that mob?”
“Negative.”
“Right. We’re taking off. Good luck.”
From behind Orne, there came the deep rumbling roar of the scout cruiser climbing its jets. The racket receded. All other sounds hung suspended in aftersilence, then resumed: the strongest first and then the weaker.
A heavy dark object arced through the headlights, swinging on a vine. It disappeared behind a tree. Another. Another. Ghostly shadows on vine pendulums looped across both sides of the sled. Something banged down heavily on the hood.
Orne braked to a creaking stop that shifted the load behind him. He found himself staring through the windshield at a native of Gienah. The native crouched on the hood, a Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in his right hand directed at Orne’s head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, Orne recognized the weapon: standard issue to marine guards on all R&R survey ships.
The native appeared the twin of the one Orne had seen on the translite screen, even to the belt with its pouched artifacts. The four-fingered hand looked practical and capable around the stock of the Mark XX.
Slowly, Orne put a hand to his throat, activated the hidden microphone, moved his speaking muscles: “Just made contact. One of that mob’s on the hood now. He has one of our Mark XX rifles aimed at my head.”
The surf-hissing of Stetson’s voice came through the implanted speaker: “Want us back?”
“Negative. Stand by. He looks more curious than hostile.”
“Be careful. You can’t be sure of reactions in an unknown species.”
Orne took his right hand from his neck, held it up, the palm out. He had a second thought, held up his left hand, too. Universal symbol of peaceful intentions: empty hands. The rifle muzzle lowered slightly. Orne called to mind the Gienahn language that had been hypno-forced into him. Ocheero? No, that meant ‘the People.’ Ahh… And he recalled the heavy fricative greeting sound.
“Ffroiragrazzi,” he said.
The native shifted to the left, answered in pure, unaccented High Galactese: “Who are you?”
Orne fought down sudden panic. The lipless mouth had appeared so odd forming the familiar words.
Stetson’s voice hissed: “Was that the native speaking Galactese?”
Orne touched his throat: “You heard him.”
“Who are you?” the Gienahn demanded.
Orne dropped his hand, said: “I’m Lewis Orne of the Rediscovery & Reeducation Service. I was sent here at the request of the First-Contact officer on the Delphinus Rediscovery.”
“Where is your ship?” the Gienahn demanded.
“It put me down and left.”
“Why?”
“It was behind schedule for another appointment.”
Out of the corners of his eyes, Orne saw more shadows drop to the mud around him. The sled shifted as someone climbed onto the load behind the cab.
The native climbed down to the sled’s side step, slid the door open in one slamming motion. The rifle remained at the ready. Again, the lipless mouth formed Galactese: “What do you carry in your… vehicle?”
“The R&R equipment, the things a fieldman requires to help the people of a rediscovered planet restore their civilization and economy.” Orne nodded at the rifle. “Would you mind pointing that weapon some other direction? It makes me nervous.”
The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly on Orne’s middle. The Gienahn’s mouth opened, revealing long canines and a blue tongue. “Do we not look strange to you?”
“I take it there’s been a heavy mutational variation in the humanoid norm on this planet,” Orne said. “What was it? Hard radiation?”
The Gienahn remained silent.
Orne said: “It doesn’t really make any difference. I’m here to help you as we do with all rediscovered planets.”
“I am Tanub, High Path Chief of the Grazzi,” the native said. “I decide who is to help.”
Orne swallowed.
“Where do you go?” Tanub demanded.
“I was headed toward your city. Is that permitted?”
Tanub remained silent for several heartbeats while his vertical-slit pupils expanded and contracted. The eyes reminded Orne of a great feline deciding whether to leap.
Presently, Tanub said: “It is permitted.”
Stetson’s voice hissed through the hidden speaker: “All bets off, Orne! We’re coming in after you. Galactese plus that Mark XX, this is a new game. They have the Delphinus for sure.”
Orne touched his throat: “No! Give me a little more time.”
“Why?”
“You’d put me right in the middle of a fire fight! Besides, I have a hunch about these Gienahns.”
“What is it?”
“No time now. Trust me.”
There was a long pause in which Orne and Tanub continued to study each other.
Presently, Stetson said: “Very well. Go ahead as planned. But find out where they’ve hidden the Delphinus. If we get our ship back, we pull some of their teeth.”
“Why do you keep touching yourself?” Tanub asked.
Orne took his hand from his throat. “I’m nervous. Guns always make me nervous.”
Tanub lowered the muzzle slightly.
“Shall we continue on to your city?” Orne asked. He wet his lips with his tongue.
The green cab light gave the Gienahn’s face an eerie sinister appearance.
“We can go soon,” Tanub said.
“Will you join me inside here?” Orne asked. “There’s a passenger seat right behind me.”
Tanub’s gaze moved catlike, right, left. “Yes.” He turned, barked an order into the jungle gloom, then climbed in behind Orne.
There was a wet fur odor with a touch of acid in it about the Gienahn.
“When do we go?” Orne asked.
“The great sun goes down soon,” Tanub said. “We can continue as soon as Chiranachuruso rises.”
“Chiranachuruso?”
“Our satellite… our moon.”
“What a beautiful word,” Orne said. “Chiranachuruso.”
“In our tongue it means ‘The Limb of Victory,’” Tanub said. “By its light we will continue.”
Orne turned, looked back at Tanub. “Do you mean to tell me you can see by what light gets down here through those trees?”
“Can you not see?” Tanub asked.
“Not without the headlights.”
“Our eyes differ,” Tanub said. He bent toward Orne, peered at Orne’s eyes. The Gienahn’s vertical slit pupils expanded, contracted. “You are the same as the… others.”
“Oh, on the Delphinus?”
“Yes.”
Orne forced himself to fall silent then. He wanted to ask about the Delphinus, but sensed how narrow a path of tolerance he walked. They knew so little about the Gienahns. How did they reproduce? What was their religion? It was obvious that Stetson and the brass behind him didn’t expect this mission to succeed. This was a desperation move with an expendable pawn.
A sudden feeling of sympathy for the Gienahns came over Orne. Tanub and his fellows had no say in their own fate. Desperate humans were calling all of the moves. Desperate and frightened humans who had grown up in the shadow of the Rim War terrors. Did that give these humans the right to decide whether an entire species should survive? These Gienahns were sapient creatures.