Quofum by Alan Dean Foster Page A

running screaming through the flaming village, no limbless thranx larvae squirming helplessly on the ground. Had that been the case, a sympathetic Tellenberg might have found himself hard-pressed not to interfere in the fight with technologically advanced gear a good deal more proactive than just fire-suppressant equipment.
    Take a step back,
he told himself. For all they knew the brutal assault that had been mounted by the spikers and the hardshells was payback for some earlier, even worse offense that had been committed by the fuzzies and the stick-jellies. For a second time he found himself reflecting on the unsuitability of relying on first impressions.
    Odd. The boat seemed to be pitching slightly under his feet. Cruising down the middle of the river with the current due aft there was no reason for a sudden swing in stability. If any of his colleagues noticed the subtle pitching they did not remark on it. A moment later he chanced to glance around. As soon as he did so the reason for the rocking became immediately apparent.
    Having drifted downstream silent and unseen while fleeing the aftermath of the battle for the village, three hardshells were struggling to clamber into the boat.
    Scientific detachment tends to fall rapidly by the wayside when a croaking, dark-eyed, angry alien suddenly appears within arm’s length brandishing a lethal weapon in one’s face. To their credit, none of the researchers panicked. All of them had spent time on other worlds; some inhabited by primitive sentients, others not. Perhaps because his kind lived under interminable threat of attack from their traditional enemies the AAnn, Valnadireb was first to draw his sidearm. Up on the bow, Haviti followed him in close order despite the awkwardness of her position.
    By the time a slightly rattled but responsive Tellenberg and N’kosi had joined them in taking aim at the intruders, the latter had halted their attempt to climb aboard. Maybe they expected the strange floating object to be full of loathsome stick-jellies and stone-wielding fuzzies. The sight of three soft-bodied, multicolored bipeds and one very large golden-eyed arthropod must have been as unsettling to them as their sudden appearance was to the occupants of the boat. Whatever the reason, it was sufficient to halt potentially lethal stone axes in midswing. Following this first confrontation, formal first contact between the official representatives of the Humanx Commonwealth and the indigenous hard-shelled natives of Quofum progressed swiftly and not at all according to preferred protocol.
    Emerging from the state of shock into which sight of the creatures on board the floating vehicle had sent it, the hardshell nearest Tellenberg took one step forward and one roundhouse swipe with the axe it gripped in its right pseudopod. Stepping easily back out of range of the powerful but short-reached swing, Tellenberg uttered a startled “Hey!” and promptly tripped over a supply canister that was lying on the deck. Both actions set the other pair of hardshells in motion.
    Deciding that this was not the appropriate time to consult the applicable portion of the relevant file, N’kosi proceeded to drill the advancing hardshell directly between its dark, pupil-less eyes. Toppling forward and dropping the axe, it struck the deck with a resounding thump. Observing this, the other hardshells reconfirmed the principle that primitiveness was not equal to stupidity by turning and throwing themselves (their physiology rendering them incapable of jumping) overboard. Rushing to the slightly flexible gunwale, Haviti and N’kosi made sure the pair of would-be boarders continued to drift away as Valnadireb rushed to help Tellenberg stand.
    “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassed by his gaucherie, Tellenberg stepped away from the thranx.
    Valnadireb looked his friend over. “You sure? From where I was standing I couldn’t see if it hit you or not.”
    Tellenberg gave an irritable shake of his