“My goodness gracious. Is there anything that you do like, Mr. Hasselemoga?” Masurathoo gave voice to the same response Jemunu-jah had been considering, only in far more polite terms than the Sakuntala would have managed.
The human smiled at the Deyzara. “Yes, there is. I like money. I like the compliments I get when I discover and bring back something useful. I like my privacy. I like certain other things you farcical resident freaks wouldn’t understand. Understand that about me, respect that about me, and maybe we’ll get out of this together.”
Understand I do, Jemunu-jah thought darkly. Respect, however, was not a term that he found he could apply to the human.
“Just to be fair,” Hasa added, “there are certain brainless bundles of morons within the Commonwealth who think humans and thranx should stay off any world not already classified Class Two or above. While I’m not personally acquainted with representatives of any such organizations on this dirt ball, that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. They could’ve been the ones responsible for putting me down, and for working to prevent any rescue.” He smiled broadly. It was an easily recognizable expression Jemunu-jah had come to associate with human amusement. In the case of this particular individual, however, it clearly had other associations and meanings.
“Being around my own kind most of the time, I’ve no illusions about what they’re capable of. So there’s enough potential blame to go around. Don’t worry. When we get back I’ll find out who’s responsible, and deal with them in my own way.” Implicitly suggesting that the Deyzara would be useless in such an undertaking, Hasa focused his attention on Jemunu-jah. “You can help if you like.”