“But it would improve relations.”
“I can see that.” Masurathoo adjusted a control, and the softly humming skimmer turned a half degree to port. “It works both ways, my friend. Perhaps if the Sakuntala would treat us with more respect and less contempt, we would be inclined to respond more warmly, with an expression other than fear.”
As he returned to scanning the Viisiiviisii below, Jemunu-jah reflected on the Deyzara’s words. Clearly, if real progress was going to be made in defusing the tension that had been growing between the species, there were going to have to be changes made on both sides. His great and honest fear was that the Deyzara might be more amenable to such modifications than his own kind. Patience was a virtue not even the Sakuntala associated with themselves.
It was while he was contemplating ways of breaking through such an impasse that the glint of something not organic sparked behind his retinas and set off an alarm in his brain.
5
Wiping warm, clinging raindrops from his face, the only part of him that was not directly protected by the rain suit, Hasa labored over the open compartment that held the inert emergency beacon. It was incumbent on him, as a freelance bioprospector, to learn how to repair in the field a good deal more than just the gear he used to study plants and other growing things. If he’d had a partner, it would have been easier. Responsibilities could have been divided, specialties shared. He’d tried a partnership some seven years earlier. Following its dissolution Hasa hoped the man’s arm would regenerate fully under treatment and that he would enjoy his enforced retirement.