“I know it’s part of their culture,” Lakphro growled. “You and Lakris may not mind it, but I do.”
“Have you told him that?”
“I’ve been hoping that me dodging away from him every time he tries it would give him a clue,” Lakphro said sourly. “So far, not so much.”
“Some people have to be told directly,” Lakansu said with a shrug. “Especially when it’s so much a part of them that they probably don’t even notice it.”
“Well, if he does it today, maybe I’ll try that,” Lakphro said, looking at his chrono. “Speaking of today, I’ve already lost way too much of it. See you later.”
He took his plate to the sink, gave Lakansu a quick kiss, and headed out. First step would be checking the kumeg seedlings to see if the traps had caught any of the insects that had been sneaking bites. After that he would check on Lakris and see how she was doing with the yubals.
He shaded his eyes from the rising sun. Lakris was over by the yubal pens now, the Agbui girl Frosif beside her.
On second thought, the kumeg seedlings could wait.
The two midagers were chattering away as he walked toward them, and as he got close enough he could hear Lakris insisting that yubals were among the dumbest things on four legs while the Agbui girl insisted she’d seen dumber animals trained to do actual tricks. “I suppose it’s possible we could do something with them,” Lakris conceded as Lakphro came up behind them. “I mean, if we can telepathically call growzers, we can probably get through a yubal’s thick skull, too.”
“Are the Chiss telepathic?” Frosif asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“Of course we are,” Lakris said airily, pretending to look around. “Let’s see. That growzer over there—see, the big black-and-brown one? Watch—I’m going to mentally call him to me.” She pointed to the growzer with one hand, surreptitiously getting a grip on the tab of her jacket’s brass-tooth sealer with the other. She pulled the tab down, and Lakphro heard the faint zipping sound—
And with a muffled screech, Frosif threw herself flat on her face on the ground.
Lakphro broke into a sprint, his pulse suddenly pounding in his ears as panic bubbled in his throat. “Are you all right?” he called, images of death and tears and angry Xodlak officials spinning through his mind. “Frosif? Are you hurt? What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m all right,” the alien girl called, already picking herself up off the ground. She was shaking, Lakphro could see, her hands twitching as Lakris helped her brush the dirt off her clothes.
“What happened?” he asked, coming to a halt beside the girls.
“That sound,” Frosif said, sounding embarrassed now. “It scared me.”
Lakphro looked at Lakris, saw his same confusion in her face. “How?” he asked.
“It just … never mind,” Frosif said, sounding even more embarrassed. “It was stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Lakphro insisted. “Come on, Frosif. You could have been hurt, and it would have been our fault. The least you can do is tell us why it scared you.”
Frosif’s shoulders seemed to sag. “It reminded me of a bad time,” she said, her long fingers stretching out and idly running through Lakris’s hair. “It was the sound of something falling out of the sky.” Her other hand reached toward Lakphro’s head—
Reflexively, he twitched away. “What kind of thing was falling?” he asked.
“Something scary.” Abruptly, Frosif dropped her hands to her sides. “I have to go,” she said, backing away from them. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lakris.”
“Wait,” Lakris said, starting after her. “It was just my coat’s sealer. Here—see?” She ran the tab up and then down, the sealer making the faint sound as the metal teeth locked together. “I trained Slobber to come when I did that.”
“I have to go,” Frosif said. She turned, nearly tripping over Slobber as the growzer obediently trotted up in response to Lakris’s call. The alien girl dodged around him and headed toward the Agbui ship, breaking into a run.
“Dad?” Lakris asked, her voice confused and miserable.
“It’s okay, hun-bun,” he said, wrapping his arm reassuringly around her shoulders. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There was no way you could know that sound would set her off.”
“I know. But …” Lakris trailed off.
“I don’t get it, either.” Lakphro gestured toward the sealer. “Let me hear it again.”
She ran the tab up and down. It sounded just like it always did: small metallic teeth locking together and sealing the garment. “No idea what she thought she heard,” he said, shaking his head.
“Do you think I should go apologize?”
Lakphro peered across the grazing land. Frosif was halfway to her ship, and a couple of the aliens who’d been working their hillside spice plantings had paused to watch her. “No, let her be,” he said. “I don’t know what you could say that we haven’t already said. Go ahead and get the yubals out and grazing. Maybe she’ll come back on her own.”
“Maybe,” Lakris said, still sounding unhappy.
“I’ll go check the kumeg, then come back and help you,” he continued, giving her a quick hug. “It’ll be okay, Lakris. Just give her time.”
“Okay,” Lakris said. “Come on, Slobber.”
Lakphro watched her open the pen gate and start the livestock moving toward the north grazing ground, Slobber and his fellow growzers moving in on both sides to keep the herd together. Then he turned and headed toward the kumeg, running the sound of the sealer over and over in his mind, wondering what in there could have scared the alien girl so badly.
By the time he and Lakris headed home for lunch he still didn’t have a clue. But an ominous suspicion about these alien visitors was starting to form in the back of his mind.
Someone from Councilor Lakuviv’s office should be dropping by soon for their daily Agbui check. Maybe, for once, he’d have something new to ask them.
“I’m sorry,” Frosif said petulantly, wincing as her mother dabbed the slowly oozing blood off her cheek from the scratchy grass she’d landed on.
“Sure, sure,” Haplif said with some grumpiness of his own. Apologies weren’t going to do anything but waste time. Especially since the girl didn’t sound particularly sorry anyway. “All these months, and now is when you decide to go all trauma victim on us?”
“Enough,” Shimkif said. Her voice was quiet, but there was an ominous warning beneath it. “Recriminations are a waste of time and breath.”
“I know,” Haplif growled. “But now?”
“I didn’t mean to do it,” Frosif snapped.
“If you’re looking to spread blame, remember that you’re the one who pushed those flat-blast artillery shells onto both sides,” Shimkif said. “Those are probably the ones the Chiss girl’s sealer mimicked.”
“Yes, fine,” Haplif said impatiently. “Speaking of the girl, how did she react to the whole thing?”
Frosif shrugged. “Worried and embarrassed, mostly. I didn’t get any suspicion from her.”
“What would there have been to be suspicious of?” Shimkif asked.
“Since when does suspicion need anything solid to drive it?” Haplif countered. “What about her father?”
“Lakphro?” Frosif shook her head. “I don’t know. He didn’t let me touch him.”
Haplif muttered a curse. No, of course Lakphro wouldn’t have. The damn rancher was absolutely and resolutely paranoid about being touched.
And that could be a problem. Haplif and the other Agbui had everyone else in the area pretty well under control, from Councilor Lakuviv right down to Lakphro’s sparky-eyed daughter. They’d done quiet but thorough probes, and everyone’s weaknesses and life-cravings were mapped out and already being manipulated.