Hasa laughed without hesitation. It was a bold laugh, ringing out through the rain and the flooded forest. Jemunu-jah winced. The Viisiiviisii was not a good place to call attention to oneself.
“On how many worlds? Here on this dismal dump I could name maybe a hundred.” His expression turned serious again. “I just can’t think of anyone who’d go to these lengths. Those who come immediately to mind might like to stick a gun in my face or an explosive purgative up my ass—but they wouldn’t get this elaborate. No need to.” He squinted back out into the damp and the gloom. “There’s more behind this, I’m beginning to think, than a desire to see Shadrach Hasselemoga become food for fungus.”
“Then we must look for a motive.” To emphasize the point, Masurathoo touched the end of his speaking trunk to the tip of his eating trunk. Jemunu-jah shuddered slightly. The sight was repellently suggestive of two samul worms mating. “Besides, um, personal adversaries, who else might have reason to benefit from your demise occurring in so complex a fashion?”
Hasa contemplated his new companions in isolation. Jemunu-jah didn’t like the way the human was looking at him. But then, he found that he did not like much of anything about this person. Had he known how thoroughly unlikable the human really was, he would have refused the assignment in spite of the Hata’s order.
A bit too late for that now.
“I’ve been hearing that the natives are restless,” the human was muttering. “Or rather, more restless than usual for you Sakis. Couple of sources told me they thought something big was up. They just didn’t know what.” He stared relentlessly at Jemunu-jah. The gaze was of an intensity sufficient to unsettle most humans. It did not bother a Sakuntala, who could stare down an eagle.