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"You should, too, ma  Mirina." Then he dropped on all fours and hurried out
of the control room, surprised by his own boldness. The woman stared after
him.
Zonzalo waved at his sister, and pointed at a light on his control board.
"Message coming in," he said. Mirina stood over his shoulder and watched the
brief transmission.
"Route it to Bisman," she said at once. "He has to hear this."
The co-leader was in the control room almost at once.
"A ship penetrated the other P-sector system near Base Eight? We have to send
word to have the others destroy it!"
"We can't," Mirina said. "It's landed on the second planet. It's protected.
Listen to this all the way through." She signalled to Zonzalo to play it back
again.
"The reptiles," Bisman said, exasperated. "The Slime. Damn it, I thought we
had them bottled." He recorded a return message to their base. "Keep an eye
out. If anything else happens, take appropriate action and notify us at once.
Appropriate action," he repeated, with heavy emphasis, and one eye on Mirina.
She glared at him, but held her tongue.
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant
CHAPTER 4
« ^ »
F
or an interminable third day, Keff sat crosslegged on the floor of the Cridi
assembly hall. He sat with his chin braced on one palm, elbow on knee, his
wrist held to one side so Carialle could see everything that was going on from
the miniaturized video pickup on his shirt front.
"Another day of flapping lips and hands in the Main Bog," Keff murmured behind
his hand. "I feel like Gulliver in Lilliput."
The humidity was so uncomfortable that in direct countermand of orders from
Central
Worlds, Keff had stopped wearing uniforms. Instead, he was clad in his least
disreputable exercise clothes, fabric made for sweating in. His hair had wound
itself into curls, as it always did when it was damp, and he smelled musty. No
one else seemed to notice the odor; perhaps his hosts simply couldn't
distinguish it in the swamp miasma that hung over everything on this soggy
world. Nor did the Cridi pay any attention to the drops running down his face.
Like Tall Eyebrow and the others in the ship, some of them made a practice of
wearing a film of water to keep their delicate skins from drying out. Others
just counted on the ambient humidity, which, Keff thought, was more than
sufficient.
The room's decor reflected the possibility of wet delegates. The ceiling
rolled back as easily to allow a passing downpour into the chamber as the view
of a sunset or a rainbow. Low, comfortable seats shaped for either sitting
upright, crouching, or lounging had soft, water-repellent covers; bright white
light came from thick, enclosed bubbles hanging overhead; wooden tables were
sealed in plastic, or perhaps made of a naturally resinous wood  Keff hadn't
had a chance yet to examine one closely.
Every time he approached a sitting group, perforce on hands and knees in the
low-
ceilinged room, stone-faced security frogs came out of the woodwork and herded
him back to his spot.
"At least they're allowing you to stay," Carialle said. "It's a foot in the
door. You could
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant be stuck out
here with me, watching the swamp gurgle, and listening to the security guards
babble formulae at each other."
"I'm getting no forrader in advancing the cause of the Central Worlds," Keff
said, forlornly watching Tall Eyebrow and the others, separated among three
huge groups of Cridi, answering questions. Long Hand was perched in one of the
chairs, waving her hands to get the attention of a pair of natives who were
squabbling in high-pitched voices. "All during that muddy tour yesterday and
the day before, I kept trying to tell them about the Central Worlds, but Big
Voice over there kept saying the conclave hadn't yet discussed whether to
allow input from an outworlder that would result in any kind of social
engineering, when they've never met an outworlder before. Once they've
discussed the topic, we have to wait until they've had input from every other
city on the planet before proceeding. The final decision rests with the
Council of
Eight. I'm not allowed to influence anyone, particularly not with the fact of
my being an alien. It's a bureaucracy. Our mission, to encounter strange new
holdups and fascinating new ways to tie red tape where no frog has gone
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before."
"Isn't anyone talking to you?"
"Oh, yes, on and off, but more out of curiosity than diplomatic interest. I
think," Keff said, smiling and making a seated bow to a passing delegate, "I'm
serving a function all the same. The Cridi are learning not to be afraid of
us. That's good. If they see me as a clown, I just have to coddle my own ego.
The problem is they treat me rather like a talking dog, a non-sentient that is
a wonder because it can pronounce recognizable words. J would be most
concerned that they wouldn't take the Central Worlds seriously enough. There's
no future alliance possible without respect."
"Respect comes with knowledge. They are getting used to you. They've never
seen anything like you  or me. As with humans, it sounds like they've run
into very few, if any, sentient species beside their own. It would be like one
of their dogs starting to talk, if they have dogs. So far I've only seen those
blobbies and lizardings they keep for pets. In time, they'll get used to the
idea that you do think for yourself. Be thankful that they don't think you're
a monster. I was a little worried after that first group took off screaming.
They could have burned out Frankenstein and his castle with Core power."
"So they could." Keff shifted uncomfortably, pulling the folds of his
sweatshirt away
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JODY LYNN NYE - [The Ship Who Sang Series - 06] The Ship Errant from his back.
"I'd just prefer to be in the midst of things instead of merely observing.
It looks like Tall Eyebrow could use my help." He glanced over at the group
surrounding the Ozranian Frog Prince.
"Tch, greedy. Look, they're friendly. You're getting an unprecedented
privilege to have the first peep at an entirely new world, something anyone in
Xeno would kill for."
Keff brightened, sitting up straighter, ignoring the smell and the sog.
'That's true.
Alien Outreach chose us. It's us, partner, first and foremost, no matter what.
I want to see everything. And I need to look sharp. I keep missing details."
"Well, that's what I'm here for," Carialle said complacently. "My drives
haven't stopped humming for the last eighty hours. Just ask your friendly
neighborhood shellperson for a free, money-back guaranteed review."
Keff grinned. "If only it was that easy. It has to be in my head, too. I wish
I had extended memory banks." There was so much that was different in the way
the Cridi lived on their homeworld than on Ozran. Isolated as he was, he felt
as if he was only one more fact away from sensory overload.
At first he had wondered if the Cridian amphibioids had abandoned their amulet
power system, since no amulets were in evidence. Carialle had been the first
to point out the circuits, like fine gold filigree, that were either worn on,
or bonded to the ends of the Cridi's long ringers. It was a tremendous
advancement in the technology. To access Core power, the user merely
positioned his or her hand, as if inserting the fingertips into the niches on
a device, the way humans would use a virtual-reality glove, and they were in
touch, so to speak, with the Core. Keff knew that Tall [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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