It was not meant to be a soliloquy on superiority, Jemunu-jah knew. Nevertheless, he reacted defensively. So many Deyzara were not shy about flaunting their intelligence, their mastery of terranglo, or the ways of the Commonwealth. They could not help it, he supposed. But it was a poor way to endear one’s kind to such as the Sakuntala.
We just as smart as you are, he told himself with certainty. You just had head-start period on us. Given time and education, he felt, the Sakuntala would catch up.
Unless they took a shortcut by eliminating the Deyzara altogether, as certain rabid Hatas and Yuiquerus like the notorious Aniolo-jat frequently expressed a desire to do.
Having shared mutual amusement at the discomfort of the two thranx, Jemunu-jah found himself in a slightly better mood by the time he and Masurathoo finally reached the transportation depot. Suspended by thick strands of strilk from dozens of pylons and massive trees, the port was designed to serve the close-in needs of several communities. The main port, where the shuttles that shifted people and goods between the surface and orbiting KK-drive ships landed and took off, was located a number of keleqs to the north, atop the only piece of semisolid land in the entire region that rose above the waters of the Viisiiviisii year-round. For ages it had been an important hunting ground. No sane Sakuntala would live there, of course, since solid surfaces were also favored by carnivores. Its clan owners now relaxed in Commonwealth-supplied leisure, their traditional hunting territory having been leased for the port.