“I am Crift, Apprentice-to-Talker.” The commander noticed that Hinkel and one of his camera crews were slowly edging closer from the left. He silently damned Hinkel, the inventor of the camera, the film, the lens, and all channels two through sixty-eight.
The alien continued: “Captain Othine extends his regrets that he cannot join you for as yet,” the alien hesitated for a moment, then continued: “for approximate timeparts yours, two, yes two. Crew and captain are absorbed entirely whole in crucial broadcast from home planet now by way of interstellar relay.”
The ursoid then indicated the rolled metal, which Cleve had gripped unconsciously.
“The Dryah. Official greeting, us-to-you, it is. Extends friendship, hello, et ceteras. Also explanation in depth for awkward delay. Also apologies, in depth, appended. Okay? Must excuse I now, please, thank you, forgive.”
The creature turned abruptly and headed at high speed back toward his ship.
They stared dumbly after the departed alien until the vast craft swallowed the single dark opening in its
80
Space Opera
side. One of the engineers, who had completely forgotten his assignment (which was to observe the details of the alien’s suit), said, “Well!” He repeated it several times.
That was the signal for a mild explosion of intersuit communication, mostly inane. Cleve examined the roU of metal, found its function anything but esoteric. It was a simple scroll, in clean English block lettering. He read.
“Excuse me … make way, please . . . pardon us, there…”