Alan Dean Foster & Eric Frank Russell by Design for Great-Day

Author:Design for Great-Day
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-01-26T23:36:20+00:00

The similarities were startling: bipedal, two arms, fingers, a rounded (but hairless) skull, bright black eyes, and a prominent nasal ridge. The external ears were set much higher on the head than in one of his own kind, however, and were pointed like those of a cat. She spoke again, her manner indicative of uncertainty but not fear. A six-legged beast stood nervously nearby, short of face but long of leg and tail, a single saddle cinched between the two front pairs of legs.

Lawson activated the small shiny integral translator attached to his belt, swinging it around so that it pointed in the native’s direction. “Hello,” he said softly, his lips even.

She started visibly, then relaxed. The lipless mouth moved. “You can understand me?” He tapped the translator. “Through this device. It would take me a while to master your language to the point where I could speak it myself. Several weeks, at least.” Hesitation, then, “Surely you could not learn so fast?”

Seeing her mouth remain parted he thought he could hazard a smile. “I’m a quick learner and languages are a specialty of mine.” Silently he thought to his companions, “I’ve met one of the local dominants.

She seems wary but willing to continue the conversation. Arrived on some kind of riding animal.

Quiet, too. I didn’t hear them come up on me.”

Toyo’s thought-form reached him. “You’re a fast worker, James. Didn’t even need an introduction.”

“Hey,” he cast back, “she spoke first.”

“Have a useful chat,” Seguin thought. He did not need to ask if the native was armed because that would have been instantly apparent in Lawson’s thought-form.

Similarly, it was clear he was not in any danger. Having learned all they needed to know in a few short, terse thoughts, the others carried on as though nothing more extraordinary had happened than a chance encounter between a couple of mice. They expressed no interest in how the encounter would proceed.

That was entirely up to Lawson.

“My name is T’eele. I saw your coach set down,” the native told him. “My first thought was to flee, but I was fascinated by your means of transportation. It just appeared.” She moved a little nearer, her very round eyes inspecting him closely. “Where do you come from?” Lawson widened his smile, noting no adverse reaction, and gestured upward with a finger. “Out there.

From beyond your sky.”

“From Langese?” she asked hesitantly.

“If by that you mean your moon,” he inferred, “no. From much farther.”

“From farther.” She pondered this. “Then your glass vehicle is some kind of sky-boat?” He nodded approvingly, wondering how she would interpret the gesture. “That’s very good. Yes.” She looked around suddenly. “Are there more of you?”

“I have friends with me,” he told her simply. “We mean you no harm. We are simply here to have a look around and to enjoy some fresh air. And to meet with you.” He extended a hand.

She considered the proffered limb, reached out with one of her own and gently drew the underside of her fingers across the back of his hand.

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