Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction; Solar Queen (Imaginary space vehicle) -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
The grass forests rustled betrayingly, but the Terrans displayed no
interest in those who spied upon them. An insect with wings of brilliant
green gauze detached itself from the stalk of a grass tree and fluttered
ahead of the Traders as if it were an official herald. From the red soil
crushed by their boots arose a pungent odor which fought with the scent
they carried with them. Dane swallowed three or four times and hoped that
his superior officer had not noticed that sign of discomfort. Though Van
Rycke, in spite of his general air of sleepy benevolence and careless
goodwill, noticed everything, no matter how trivial, which might have a
bearing on the delicate negotiations of Galactic Trade. He had not
climbed to his present status of expert Cargo-master by overlooking
anything at all. Now he gave an order:
"Take an equalizer--"
Dane reached for his belt pouch, flushing, fiercely determined inside
himself, that no matter how smells warred about him that day, he was not
going to let it bother him. He swallowed the tiny pellet Medic Tau had
prepared for just such trials and tried to occupy his mind with the work
to come. If there would be any work--or would another long day be wasted
in futile speeches of mutual esteem which gave formal lip service to
Trade and its manifest benefits?
"Houuuu--" The cry which was half wail, half arrogant warning, sounded
along the road behind them.
Van Rycke's stride did not vary. He did not turn his head, show any sign
he had heard that heralding fanfare for a clan chieftain. And he
continued to keep to the exact center of the road, Dane the regulation
one pace to the rear and left as befitted his lower rank.
"Houuu--" that blast from the throat of a Salarik especially chosen for
his lung power was accompanied now by the hollow drum of many feet. The
Terrans neither looked around nor withdrew from the center, nor did their
pace quicken.
That, too, was in order, Dane knew. To the rank conscious Salariki
clansmen you did not yield precedence unless you wanted at once to
acknowledge your inferiority--and if you did that by some slip of
admission or omission, there was no use in trying to treat face to face
with their chieftains again.
"Houuu--!" The blast behind was a scream as the retinue it announced
swept around the bend in the road to catch sight of the two Traders
oblivious of it. Dane longed to be able to turn his head, just enough to
see which one of the local lordlings they blocked.
"Houu--" there was a questioning note in the cry now and the heavy
thud-thud of feet was slacking. The clan party had seen them, were
hesitant about the wisdom of trying to shove them aside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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