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Authors: Alan Dean Foster
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a seat on the sandstone and crossed his long legs, “then who are you talking to?”
“I wass being literal, not solipssisstic.” Kiijeem squatted down into a resting crouch. After a moment's indecision he laid the bengk aside. But not out of reach. That would have been foolish. And un-AAnn-like. “What I meant wass that you, a human, should not be on Blasussarr.” Double eyelids blinked in succession. “You are not an operative attached to the Commonwealth diplomatic corpss?”
“No.” Flinx chuckled. “They would be as upset to learn that I'm here as would your own officials.”
“Then what
are
you doing here?” a genuinely curious Kiijeem inquired. “To my knowledge, no human hass ever managed ssuch a thing.”
“I'm here because,” Flinx explained thoughtfully, “to my knowledge, ‘no human has ever managed such a thing.’” He looked away from the now intensely interested young nye, toward the night sky. “I seem to have a propensity for doing things none of my kind have done before. My own ship thinks I'm crazy.”
Two revelations to ponder in one short phrase, Kiijeem decided.“I'm crazy” and “My own ship thinks.” He determined now was not the time or place to probe more deeply into either claim.
“You are lying. There cannot be a human sship near Blasussarr. Any incoming vessel not intercepted in the outer reachess of the home ssysstem would be obliterated long before it could enter into orbit.”
Flinx did not smile. “Technological advances exist that the Empire knows nothing about. Or for that matter, the Commonwealth. My ship is not your typical voyager through space-plus. And I am not your usual human.”
“I would not know. I have never encountered a ssoftsskin before. Only in sstudiess. Never in the flessh.” Aware that the weight had left his tail, he looked on as the colorful flying creature buzzed over to land on its master's shoulder.
“Disappointed?” Flinx asked him. “Afraid?” He already sensed that the young nye was afraid of him, but he was curious to see how the youth would respond to a direct query.
“A little, truly,” Kiijeem replied with admirable honesty. “You are not going to kill me.” It was not a question. Had the human intended murder, he would already have carried it out.
“No. You are not my enemy.” Drawing his knees up to his chest, Flinx clasped his arms around them. As dawn began to threaten, the coldest part of the night probed harder at his exposed flesh.
“The Empire and the Commonwealth have been enemiess for a long time.” As he spoke, Kiijeem tried to note all the details of the softskin's alien anatomy. In many ways the sight was laughable; in others, fascinating.
“I am not the Commonwealth,” Flinx told him somberly. “And you, I hope, are not the Empire. I know your name, and you know mine. By the sand that shelters life, I would beg your friendship.”
None of this was proceeding as Kiijeem had expected. First the human had physically upended him and now it was unsettling him mentally as well. As the victor in their combat the softskin was in a position to
demand
friendship. There was no need for him to beseech it. But that was just what he was doing. Gratuitously and without being asked, he had given back to Kiijeem the share of status that the nye had lost in the course of the fight. It was a generous gift.
But—could he respond? Whoever heard of an AAnn grantingfriendship to a human? One might as well offer it to a rabid thranx. Yet given the circumstances of their meeting, how could he refuse? More beguilingly, Kiijeem was not sure he
wanted
to refuse.
Though he sensed the ambivalence in the young AAnn's emotions, Flinx did not try to intervene, either verbally or with his Talent. It was important that, whatever decision this youth came to, he reach it on his own. Only in that way would it last. Flinx was optimistic. Given his youth, Kiijeem might not yet have acquired the visceral hatred of humans that was
“I wass being literal, not solipssisstic.” Kiijeem squatted down into a resting crouch. After a moment's indecision he laid the bengk aside. But not out of reach. That would have been foolish. And un-AAnn-like. “What I meant wass that you, a human, should not be on Blasussarr.” Double eyelids blinked in succession. “You are not an operative attached to the Commonwealth diplomatic corpss?”
“No.” Flinx chuckled. “They would be as upset to learn that I'm here as would your own officials.”
“Then what
are
you doing here?” a genuinely curious Kiijeem inquired. “To my knowledge, no human hass ever managed ssuch a thing.”
“I'm here because,” Flinx explained thoughtfully, “to my knowledge, ‘no human has ever managed such a thing.’” He looked away from the now intensely interested young nye, toward the night sky. “I seem to have a propensity for doing things none of my kind have done before. My own ship thinks I'm crazy.”
Two revelations to ponder in one short phrase, Kiijeem decided.“I'm crazy” and “My own ship thinks.” He determined now was not the time or place to probe more deeply into either claim.
“You are lying. There cannot be a human sship near Blasussarr. Any incoming vessel not intercepted in the outer reachess of the home ssysstem would be obliterated long before it could enter into orbit.”
Flinx did not smile. “Technological advances exist that the Empire knows nothing about. Or for that matter, the Commonwealth. My ship is not your typical voyager through space-plus. And I am not your usual human.”
“I would not know. I have never encountered a ssoftsskin before. Only in sstudiess. Never in the flessh.” Aware that the weight had left his tail, he looked on as the colorful flying creature buzzed over to land on its master's shoulder.
“Disappointed?” Flinx asked him. “Afraid?” He already sensed that the young nye was afraid of him, but he was curious to see how the youth would respond to a direct query.
“A little, truly,” Kiijeem replied with admirable honesty. “You are not going to kill me.” It was not a question. Had the human intended murder, he would already have carried it out.
“No. You are not my enemy.” Drawing his knees up to his chest, Flinx clasped his arms around them. As dawn began to threaten, the coldest part of the night probed harder at his exposed flesh.
“The Empire and the Commonwealth have been enemiess for a long time.” As he spoke, Kiijeem tried to note all the details of the softskin's alien anatomy. In many ways the sight was laughable; in others, fascinating.
“I am not the Commonwealth,” Flinx told him somberly. “And you, I hope, are not the Empire. I know your name, and you know mine. By the sand that shelters life, I would beg your friendship.”
None of this was proceeding as Kiijeem had expected. First the human had physically upended him and now it was unsettling him mentally as well. As the victor in their combat the softskin was in a position to
demand
friendship. There was no need for him to beseech it. But that was just what he was doing. Gratuitously and without being asked, he had given back to Kiijeem the share of status that the nye had lost in the course of the fight. It was a generous gift.
But—could he respond? Whoever heard of an AAnn grantingfriendship to a human? One might as well offer it to a rabid thranx. Yet given the circumstances of their meeting, how could he refuse? More beguilingly, Kiijeem was not sure he
wanted
to refuse.
Though he sensed the ambivalence in the young AAnn's emotions, Flinx did not try to intervene, either verbally or with his Talent. It was important that, whatever decision this youth came to, he reach it on his own. Only in that way would it last. Flinx was optimistic. Given his youth, Kiijeem might not yet have acquired the visceral hatred of humans that was
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