“It is well known that they are unable to swim, or even to float.” Above his eyes, Masurathoo’s speaking trunk bobbed gently from side to side as he spoke. “One should pity these two, as it is most clearly evident they would rather be anywhere else than here.”
As they came closer to the two thranx, Jemunu-jah experienced a sudden highly uncivilized urge to bump into the nearest and send it stumbling toward the walkway railing, just to see how it would react. Curious as to what Masurathoo would think, he voiced his desire to his shorter, softer companion.
“Oh, Mr. Jemunu-jah, sir, that is thought most unworthy of a civilized being!” Hesitating, the Deyzara lowered his voice. “But one that, I confess, could prove highly amusing in its consequences.”
Something else they unexpectedly had in common, Jemunu-jah realized. A little humor could go a long way toward defusing the tension each felt in the presence of the other. That was going to be increasingly important once they were both restricted to the limited confines of a small scout skimmer. Of course, he wasn’t going to actually bump into one of the clearly terrified thranx. Still, if he should happen to do so (entirely by accident, of course) and if it did stumble toward the edge of the walkway, he could grab and steady it in an instant. No harm done. The two hard-shells were very close now.
He had not yet decided what to do when the chigyese landed right on top of the alien he was unworthily contemplating nudging. The chigyese had a soft, flexible body that enabled it to squeeze into narrow clefts in the branches of trees. There it could swell itself with water, rendering it impossible for would-be predators to extract. To move about the trees it had a dozen long, glistening tentacles lined with fine hairs. It was not very strong, it had poor eyesight, and its tiny mouthparts were adapted not for biting but for sucking plant juices from new growth.