Craythorne, he thought, would certainly not approve of me now.
CHAPTER 5
For a few seconds there was total silence in the corridor. The squad leader’s face was darkening toward purple. The man on his right was smiling and the one on his left was looking thoughtful but not afraid; his hand moved toward his boss’s arm as if to restrain him, then he let it fall again. This one, O’Mara thought, was able to think even if, for the sake of a peaceful life, he was in the habit of letting the squad leader do the thinking for him.
As space construction workers they were highly paid but, so far as the majority of them were concerned, not highly intelligent or well educated. They didn’t have to be. But their ignorance was a temporary condition that could be relieved. O’Mara nodded to the man on the left to show that his words were for him as well as for his boss before returning his attention to the squad leader. Regretfully, he thought, I’ll try to do it Craythorne’s way one more time.
“While we’re all thinking about what to do next,” he said, allowing a smile to touch the corners of his mouth, “there is something you should know about Kelgians – if, that is, some of you are meeting them for the first time. Physically they are not very strong. Apart from the delicate bone structure of the spine and brain casing, they are made up of soft muscle tissue in broad, circular bands along their body length. These muscles need a lot of blood and the veins are close to the skin, which means that even a small surface wound is serious for them because their mobile fur makes it difficult to control the bleeding. The effect on the fur is even more serious…”
It sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, but he was simply paraphrasing the introductory material, intended for primary-school children, on Kelgian physiology from the library. But the man on the right was frowning in concentration, the thoughtful one on the left was staring at the Kelgians, and the squad leader’s face was shading through red to pink.
“… because the fur is their most expressive and, to them, beautiful feature,” he went on quickly. “To every other Kelgian the fur movements are an extension of their spoken language that shows exactly what they are thinking and feeling. For example, a male can’t hide his feelings for a female or, whether or not she returns them, hers for him. They can never be coy or play hard to get. The fur is very sensitive. If it is injured or damaged in any way, it is the equivalent of a severe physical disfigurement or bad facial scarring to us. A scarred Kelgian would, well, have great difficulty finding a mate…”
“I wish it was that simple with our women,” the one who had been concentrating broke in. The thoughtful one added, “So you’re saying that if they get cut by sharp edges of plating, or get their fur smeared with paint or oil, the ladies are in bad trouble.” Without waiting for O’Mara to reply, he said, “Boss, do we clear a path for them?”
The squad leader hesitated. His face had returned to its natural color, but plainly he was a man who did not like losing an argument. It was time to give him back the initiative, O’Mara thought, and appeal to the better side of his nature, if he had one.
“They have been traveling for a long time,” he said, “and some of them badly need to use the, ah, facilities in their quarters.” He grinned. “Your corridor is messed up enough as it is.”
The other hesitated, then guffawed loudly. “Right, O’Mara, you’ve got it. Far be it from me to get a lady into serious trouble. Give us ten minutes.”
There was only one small holdup while the party was moving in single file along the cleared section of corridor. Word had been passed down the line that a party of other-species nurses were going through and the men began whistling. Crenneth wanted to know the meaning of the strange, untranslatable noise. O’Mara decided to hide behind the literal truth.