xenophobia.
The Murrin had been on the homeward leg of a normal exploring trip. They’d been examining the
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Space Opera
planets of the sol system one by one. While circumnavigating Saturn, they’d passed close to Titan while the Reykjavik was passing information toward Mars station. They had presented nothing but a friendly continence since the initial contact.
Still, Cleve reflected, there was no mistaking the cautious, defensive approach the aliens had used, coming in low over the horizon and with little warning. A carefully developed military tactic, using mountains as cover. While they might be all for exchanging dirty stories over a beer, they weren’t quite ready to hail the terrans as long-lost lodge brothers.
Perhaps they were just naturally cautious. On the other hand, it was conceivable that someone had taken a potshot at one of them before. In any case, they’d dropped in on the Rey before anyone could have loaded even a blowgun. Which was just as well.
So the two ships squatted across the narrow valley
from each other while the amateur linguists on the
;’ Reykjavik and the professional ones on the alien ship
tried to talk turkey with the help of several miles of
electronic circuitry.
.> Being prepared for the chance of happening onto an-.;.;• other intelligent race, the Murrin acquired basic Eng-|. lish a good deal faster than the terrans could pick up j guttural Myll, The aliens had given every indication of \ being highly pleased at discovering another intelligent species (if a bit blase about the whole thing). Particularly in such an otherwise unpromising system, thought Cleve as he adjusted his exoskin.