His hands fluttered through the motions, then froze in the air by his belly. He tugged, trying to free himself from the invisible force. Nothing doing. The shock of his appearance had delayed security's reaction, but they were in command again. Cridi amulet power surrounded him with a rock-hard shell of invisible force, clamping him in place and forcing his arms down against his sides. He gasped, but not because of the jungle heat. The forcefield was just a little too tight around his chest. If it closed down any harder, he'd pass out. Giddily, he wondered if he would remain erect.
A host of helmeted frogs all but materialized at his side, preparing to defend against him should he move at all-as if he could.
"TE, tell them I'm your friend!" Keff gritted, willing his lips to move. Black spots danced in front of his eyes at the strain.
He wasn't sure if he could be heard over the screaming, but TE was a superlative lip reader. The Ozranian turned to sign at his hosts.
"Release him! Please!" Tall Eyebrow said, making energetic gestures at the eight leaders. "These are my friends, and the representatives of a great government, here to be our friends." He trotted back across the field and placed himself between Keff and the guards. "You must not treat them like animals or enemies."
The members of the conclave peered at Keff from a safe distance and Keff could feel his restraints ease off slightly. The youngest one took a step forward, thought better of it, and retreated to the far side of the solid platform. Smooth Hand, he of the ribbon cape, tilted his head to one side.
"Well, they are strange to us," he said, apologetically. "So large. Such an odd color in the face. And there is another one onboard the ship. Why will it not come out and show itself?"
"Because she cannot," TE said, emphasizing the feminine pronoun. "She lives within the walls, and never moves. Keff and Carialle are my friends and have been our defenders on the colony world of Ozran."
"Sky Clear!" the self-important one corrected him imperiously. "Why have you changed the name?"
"It is the name by which the joined colony of people like Keff and our own race is known," Long Hand added. "Humans live on the world with us."
"When the homeworld lost touch with Sky Clear there were none but Cridi there," Smooth Hand said, referring to the data pad, which was held for him by a female in a red cloak.
"It would take long to explain by hand," TE said, looking back at his own aides. "We have archives to give you."
Small Spot, smiting himself in the head to show abashment for his forgetfulness, ran back into the ship to get the boxes of records.
Carialle, guessing what he wanted, had thoughtfully rolled out one of her small servo drones, and the excited globe-frog loaded the boxes aboard its flat back. The boxy robot followed him out to the waiting crowd, trundling stoutly over the soggy ground.
"We present to you the complete records for the life of our colony," Tall Eyebrow signed proudly. He stood back from the drone and allowed some of the guards to remove the boxes from its platform. Carialle recalled her robot, ordering it to spin its treads at the bottom of the ramp to avoid trudging mud over her decks.
"A magnificent gift," said the female in silver bangles. She pried open one of the containers and lifted out one of the tightly wound spools of plastic inside. "Unlooked-for treasure. It will make interesting reading. Scholars will vie for the honor of transcribing."
The elder statesman held up his hands to get the attention of the whole crowd. "We welcome you home, cousins, and look forward to writing joint history from now on," said Smooth Hand. "Perhaps together we will discover the well-being of other lost children of Cridi."
The old one stretched out his arms toward Tall Eyebrow, palms out. The Ozranian stepped forward, and laid his large hands against those of the elder. The crowd cheered again, and surrounded the three travelers. The senior Cridi beckoned.
"We all have much to discuss. But come, you are our honored guests. You shall have the finest accommodations, sample the best foods, visit sites of our history and of our future." He put an arm around Tall Eyebrow's back and led him toward the spaceport buildings surrounded by the chirping horde. Suddenly he looked back, an afterthought occuring to him. "Oh, bring the giant, too."
A guard waved his hand, and Keff stumbled forward.
"Depot in range," said Glashton, the pilot, over his shoulder. "I'm keeping that string of asteroids between us and their sensors."
"Good." Mirina Don paced back and forth behind the pilots' couches, peering at the computer construction of the asteroid-bound repair facility. Old, but well-supplied, if their scout's report was anything to go by. And they'd recently had a delivery that interested the Melange. "Notify Bisman."
The young Thelerie in the co-pilot's seat threw off his straps and arose, prepared to run aft. Mirina caught him by a wing-joint and turned him back. "No, Sunset. Use the intercom."
"Yes, madam," he said, his slit-like pupils wide. He scrambled back into his padded couch and reached out one skinny wing-hand to activate the communications channel, at the same time keeping track of the ship's progress. He lay rather than sat in the couch, his mighty haunches curled up behind, leaving free clawed forelegs and wing-fingers so that his head was between two agile pairs of hands. The boffins told her that with their long eyes they could watch both sets at once. He glanced back at her eagerly. "He is on his way."
Mirina shook her head. So young. So heartbreakingly anxious to please. Some of the Thelerie never got over their initial awe of humans, never stopped seeing them as benevolent gods, whose bidding must be done no matter how perilous. Not even after their first missions, when the humans proved themselves to be thieves and pirates. The Thelerie just kept on trusting them, even against the evidence. Their ethical culture told them that a person was what he said he was, even if he wasn't. That made them jam for the dishonest beings in the galaxy like the Melange.
Mirina felt responsible for all the Thelerie they enrolled. She suffered nightmares when one of them got injured or killed, and still dreamed about the first time she had had to take the body of an apprentice back to its homeworld. As guilty as she was, the alien family didn't blame her. They trusted humans, not realizing that they were as mortal as Thelerie, with no special powers to save anyone, or any special wisdom to keep them from falling into danger. They thought everything humans did was wonderful. It never occured to them that the ships the humans flew were old, cobbled together out of spare parts and baling wire. They never saw that the couches had been mended a dozen times, nor that the equipment in the control room came from a dozen different derelict ships, and failed as often as it worked.
She'd once been told by a suitor that she had fine eyes. The mirror in her cramped little cabin let her know that the strain of the last years had put a hard quality into them that frightened her, and would have put off that long-gone beau. That tough shell protected what was left of her soul, because business was business. The presence of the Thelerie was essential to the success of her venture. There'd have been far more bloodshed, and much more loss of life if she couldn't rely upon their unique talent. Even to herself she admitted that she minimized the danger in every way possible. She didn't want anyone else to die. Anyone.
"Close in," she said, leaning over Glashton's shoulder. "Plot us in, staying as close to the asteroids as possible till the last minute. I don't want them to have time to push the panic button. Can you see the parts depot?"
"Aye, sir."
Bisman came striding up. He had on an armored pressure suit, the helmet held under one arm. His grizzled hair was hidden under the protective hood, and his sharp, dark eyes were calm.