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That his nightly sojourns did not have formal familial approval made them all the more delicious. Wielding a wickedly curved traditional bengk carnage knife in one four-fingered hand, a convex torgk shield in the other, and a sharpened and embossed pelgk sheath over the last half meter of his slender tail, Kiijeem AVMd prowled the desert in search of the wily ssentoom. One had to be ever ready and alert on the trail of the ssentoom. Though not large, they were vicious little carnivores, boasting a pair of forward-facing tusks that could pierce personal protection and reach all the way to vital organs. Defiant and eager, Kiijeem wore not a single piece of body armor. He chose to hunt without it, confident in the knowledge that he was faster, stronger, and smarter than the wiliest representative of that dangerous and delectable species.

He could also hunt without armor secure in the knowledge that it had been a couple of hundred cycles since the last ssentoom had been killed anywhere within a dozen corrls of Krrassin’s city limits. The fact that he was “hunting” on his family’s property reduced the likelihood of such an encounter to practically nil. That knowledge did not prevent him, however, from enjoying the chase.

As usual, he had taken care to slip out of the residence unobserved. While such a late-night stroll would have been frowned upon by the adults, if he was caught it would have occasioned nothing stronger than a casual rebuke over the missed sleep time. What would have drawn more serious censure was his choice to go wandering around in the dark fully armed with traditional weapons. At his age, halfway between childhood and maturity, concerns would have been voiced over his competency to handle such lethal gear. Not that there was anything on the protected property capable of harming so much as a hopping infant, and the security fence kept intruders at bay, but fears would have been raised about the possibility of an accident.

It was to avoid just such tiresome lecturing from adult nye that he always kept his intentions secret. He had carried out his covert stalkings several times previously without having his activities discovered. Each successive successful excursion boosted his confidence in his ability to continue to do so. Each succeeding stalk increased his poise in the handling of weapons, his ability to negotiate obstacles in the dark, and his growing physical prowess.

Besides that, they were fun.

A hint of movement caught his eye. He froze, dropping immediately into the preliminary attack crouch all AAnn learned from the time they were old enough to stop hopping and start running. With the bengk held low and ready to thrust and the torgk positioned in front of his chest, he advanced slowly on his quarry. Knees bent, tail cocked and ready to snap to left or right, he silently shadowed his prey.

There it was, just in front of him. Its back was to him and its eyes and attention elsewhere. Clutching the haft of the bengk steadfastly, Kiijeem contracted his powerful thigh muscles, hissed softly in expectation, and leaped.

The bengk descended. There was no cry from the victim. The point of the curved blade pierced its carapace directly behind the skull. Caught entirely by surprise, the hard-shelled bhrossod barely had time to utter a short, sharp, soft unkk. It was still alive when Kiijeem raised the pinioned creature aloft on the point of his blade. It was about half the length of the knife, possessed no biting parts, and continued to kick spasmodically with all ten legs. Eventually these stopped convulsing and grew still. Placing the dead animal back on the ground, Kiijeem used one clawed, sandal-shod foot to push the dead vermin off the blade. While it was a long way from dispatching the fierce and dangerous ssentoom, at least it was a kill.

In his mind’s eye he imagined it was a thranx, hereditary foe of the Empire, all slashing foothands and drooling mouthparts. His slashing bengk had smashed through the hard protective chitin over its spine. Now its ichorous bodily fluids were draining away harmlessly into the absorptive, cleansing sands of Blasusarr. Wiping his bengk clean against the leg of his body suit, Kiijeem resumed his search for the ever-elusive ssentoom. Surely there was one to be found in this wild and empty reach of uninhabited desert! Doubtless crouched at the very back of its burrow, cowering in fear from the knowledge that the greatest traditional hunter of all the AAnn was close on its trail.

More movement, this time off to his left, caught his attention. Could it be a ssentoom? The brief flash of motion certainly suggested something considerably larger and more active than the harmless and unlucky bhrossod. For an instant Kiijeem, self-anointed mighty hunter that he was, hesitated. Nothing so large ought to have been able to slip past the property’s security perimeter. Was part of the barrier down along with its attendant warning electronics? If so, it might be time to call a premature halt to his nighttime stalking and alert an adult. What if some addled ambler had found a hole in the fence and come looking for loot, challenge, or trouble of an unspecified nature? Kiijeem might hunt ssentoom in the middle of the morning, but he was not sure he was ready to challenge a trouble-seeking adult.

What was this? he chided himself. Was he not Kiijeem AVMd, fourth of a titled litter, progeny of a noble family? Were the weapons he carried nothing more than decoration; a boost to an ailing confidence, a sop to a frail ego? Why should he, who hunted the deadly ssentoom (if only in his imagination), fear a trespassing citizen? One who was probably mentally deficient or unstable or both? Steeling himself he pressed on, secure in the likelihood that he would have the element of surprise on his side, the justification of an affronted property owner in reserve, and the knowledge that come what may he was a very fast runner.

He had detected the movement on the far shore of the west pool, the one that was home to his family’s prized collection of rare southern temperate river water-dwellers. Was the intruder a common thief? Would someone intent on pilfering small aquatic animals embark on such an activity heavily armed? It seemed superfluous. With that comforting thought in mind Kiijeem continued his advance.

In keeping with the aesthetics of the high-priced landscaper, the tailored terrain grew more rugged as he approached the pool. Moonlight outlined a figure standing there. Raising the bengk, Kiijeem started forward. As the outlines of the figure grew more defined, he began to slow. In a reflex gesture reflecting his utter astonishment, his tongue slid out of his mouth to hang down the right side of his jaw. The only sound he emitted was a soft metallic tap as his tail muscles relaxed and the sheathed tip slumped to the ground. He halted.

He could not believe what he was seeing.

Standing before him was a bipedal being he recognized instantly from the standardized component of his formal studies. It was much, much taller than he would have expected. Perhaps an unusual example of its kind. It was slender but well muscled and, just as the relevant imagery had taught him, completely tailless. It was one thing to learn in studies that a tall biped could stand upright without a tail and not fall over, quite another to see the phenomenon in person. While the eyes that were staring back at him were somewhat flattened in their orbits, the pupils were impossibly round.

Something far smaller and much more colorful was hovering in the air nearby. An alien flying creature, it resembled Kiijeem far more closely than it did its owner. A pet of some kind, or symbiote. The young nye did not recognize the Alaspinian flying snake, having never encountered Alaspin or minidrags in his studies. The tall biped he knew well, however. It was a human. An ally of the thranx, a cofounding race of the hated Commonwealth, and therefore also an implacable enemy. A mixture of fear, loathing, and revulsion churned through the AAnn’s digestive organs. The creature’s most distinctive defining characteristic was far more obvious in the flesh than it had ever been in the course of his studies.

It looked so … so soft.

The pulpy flesh had no covering. No scales, as would be natural. No chitin, as did the thranx and many other creatures. Virtually no fur. Even in the poor light Kiijeem thought he could actually see the blood flowing beneath the ridiculously gauzy, easily damaged skin. Why, a well-aimed rock could tear it! The sheath-point that presently covered Kiijeem’s tail could pierce such a fragile creature straight through from front to back. Except…

This was a human, and one thing his studies had emphasized when discussing the softskins was that they were not nearly as fragile as they looked. And what about the dead, eviscerated AAnn the creature was holding?

No, the limp object was not a dead AAnn, he saw as he peered harder. While it looked exactly like the flayed skin of a nye, the interior was lined not with dripping blood vessels and torn muscle but with a smooth material whose origin was clearly synthetic. Woven into the fabric, for such he decided it had to be, were a multitude of embedded sensors and advanced instrumentation. It was something like a costume, then. Somehow Kiijeem did not think the human had brought it with him so he could inconspicuously attend a clan function. Which led to the obvious question of just what he was doing with it (by now Kiijeem was certain the creature standing before him was a male of the disgusting species) and what he was doing here. On Blasusarr. In Krrassin. On Kiijeem’s family property, at night, by the west pool.

Notwithstanding the rarity of the specimens that dwelled in the pool, Kiijeem doubted this representative of an adversarial species had come all this way and gone to all this trouble simply to steal an assortment of native water-dwellers.

All this flashed through his mind even as he was simultaneously trying to decide whether to challenge or run. The revolting elasticity and apparent vulnerability of its body aside, the human was a good deal taller and heavier than the startled adolescent. While Kiijeem could not see any weaponry, that did not mean the intruder was unarmed. In fact, as an interloper in the capital city it was unlikely he would have come here unequipped to defend himself. There was also the matter of the attendant flying creature, which might possess abilities that posed a danger in themselves.

Mighty hunter though he was, at that moment Kiijeem found himself yearning for the gently warmed sand that filled the sleeping area in his private quarters. The main residence was uncomfortably far away.

The two stood staring at one another, the distance between them too close for comfort but sufficient to allow a moment’s contemplation in lieu of the need to take immediate action. Had the situation been reversed, had a human of Kiijeem’s age encountered a mature AAnn in similar circumstances on Earth, the human’s conditioning would have told him to run. An AAnn, however, was made of sterner stuff. Or was the more foolishly obstinate. Letting out a long, deep hiss (as deep as he could manage, anyway) Kiijeem took several deliberate steps forward, raised the bengk above his hairless head, and assumed the posture of one issuing a formal challenge. His studied pose was highlighted by complementary traditional gesturing. Maybe he hoped this would frighten the human into flight. If so, he was disappointed.

Stepping out of the simsuit skin and laying it down carefully on the smooth rock, the tall intruder cocked his head slightly to one side and continued to stare silently back at his blustering young challenger. Was the creature deaf, or dumb, or both? an anxious Kiijeem wondered as he gripped the bengk a little tighter. Was it even now preparing some kind of unimaginable, unthinkable alien response? The youth’s legs did not shake—he was too well trained for that. But thoughts of whirling about, casting his play-weaponry aside, and racing like mad for the safety of the main residence began to loom ever more prominently in his thoughts.

Time passed and still the human made no threatening gestures. What was it thinking? How could it be so confident and controlled standing there naked and unprotected? What threat, what unknown danger, Kiijeem wondered wildly, was he overlooking?

In reality, nothing that another human would have detected. Or any other sentient, for that matter. The young AAnn had no way of knowing that Flinx had already sized up his youthful challenger and found the threat he posed wanting. Kiijeem’s roiling uncertainty and hesitation were as plain for Flinx to perceive as if the AAnn had announced them himself.

They were all laid out for the singular human to read, in the young nye’s emotions.

What to do with this frightened but potentially dangerous adolescent? Flinx found himself wondering. Though he had no weapons himself, he felt that his experience would allow him to easily disarm the youth in any hand-to-tail combat. Alternatively, Flinx could summon up fear and Pip would kill the AAnn in an instant. Neither of those options appealed to him. Though undeniably scared, the young AAnn was also courageous enough to put forward the standard fighting challenge of his kind. Flinx didn’t want to hurt him. In all the time he had spent on Blasusarr he had managed to avoid injuring a single resident. He did not want to start here, now, with this spirited but inexperienced youth. By the same token he could hardly let the young male attack him or run off to seek help. What to do, how to respond?

The most important thing was to keep the youngster from raising any kind of alarm. Having been challenged, Flinx decided that for the moment at least, the best thing to do was play along. Projecting an emotion onto the youngster, if the mental effort succeeded, might calm him down—or it might send him screaming off into the night. Panicky screams were something to be avoided.

Holding the fingers of his right hand together, Flinx passed the inner edge against his throat, then used both hands to perform a second-degree gesture of martial acknowledgment that perfectly complemented the youth’s preliminary gesticulations.

“I am called Flinx, of no family known to you, and I accept your challenge.” He indicated Pip, hovering threateningly nearby. “My companion will not interfere. Initiate as you will.” So saying, he dropped into as close an approximation of the traditional AAnn fighting crouch as his lanky human physiognomy would allow. Accepting a challenge while naked and unarmed would have seemed foolhardy to another AAnn—or another human. His helpless appearance notwithstanding, Flinx was far from defenseless.

If Kiijeem had been startled and confused before, he was now baffled beyond reason. That did not prevent him from responding appropriately.

“I am called Kiijeem, Fourth-born of the Family AVM, and it iss I who issuess thiss challenge.” Double eyelids blinked in surprise as he realized that the human had not only responded in the approved manner to the initial challenge, but had done so in perfect, only slightly accented speech.

Why would a human master the AAnn language? Self-evidently this was no diplomat, wandering about unannounced on family property with some kind of AAnn costume-covering in hand. Was he a thief? Surely there was nothing worth taking from the family residence that justified the risk of making a clandestine landing on Blasusarr. What then was the creature’s motivation?

A spy. Of all possibilities he could imagine, that was the one that made the most sense to young Kiijeem. Except—a spy would logically attempt to infiltrate a military base, or some important scientific establishment, or at the very least a key commercial enterprise. One would not go to the trouble of sneaking onto the secured property of a wealthy and respected but by no means crucially important capital city family. The more Kiijeem mulled the situation, the further it shifted from the menacing to the farcical.

Had his parents hired a clever actor to don a human simsuit while carrying around an empty AAnn skin? Was this an attempt by them, or other of his relatives, or of his study friends, to frighten him? Perhaps to dissuade him from his nocturnal rambles? Or had he offended someone his own age and thereby unknowingly set into motion what was nothing more than an elaborate prank? It would certainly explain the tall figure’s linguistic fluency and familiarity with AAnn custom if it was nothing more than another of his own kind. Perhaps a professional hireling walking on flexstilts. Heedless of the individual who had just responded to his challenge, Kiijeem looked around intently. Searching the surrounding darkness, he found only silence. If anyone was looking on and watching, he could not see them. Nor could he hear any eager breathing or hissing laughter.

Well, chissann, there was one way to find out. Having issued a challenge and subsequently had it accepted, he could not back away now without sacrificing what little adult status he had managed to acquire. If this was some kind of cunning subterfuge and those who had organized it were watching from hiding, the worst thing he could do was turn and run. Aside from the loss of all-important status, the humiliation would stick to him for years.

“Prepare to defend yoursself,” he hissed in the sharpest tone he could muster. Holding the torgk close against his chest, he raised the curved bengk high over his head, kicked off his quick-release sandals, and initiated a ceremonial advance. As he did so, he could not keep from noticing the human-shape’s external ears. He stared at his inscrutable opponent. What purpose did all that extraneous flesh and ligamentation serve? He shook himself. He had made a start to a fight. A fight in which he, at least, was wielding weapons that were anything but childish. If someone was playing a trick on him, if this was a game, a few quick swipes of the bengk ought to expose it swiftly enough.

Shifting into the formal posture AAnn employed for hand-to-hand combat, Flinx took a half step backward and lowered his clawless hands. His adversary was young and probably inexperienced, but there was nothing juvenile about the blade he was gripping, about the killing point that tipped the end of the sheath that covered his tail, or about the sharp claws on his feet. Serious injury and even death could come at Flinx from any one of several different directions. He did not want to hurt the youth—but neither could he coddle the young AAnn at the risk of damage to himself.

Seeing that Pip was watching him and not his approaching attacker, Flinx made sure to keep his thoughts calm. There was no real danger here, he told himself. Everything was manageable. He faced nothing more dangerous than a little strenuous exercise. The nighttime visitor was not an enemy. Perceiving his thoughts, the deadly flying snake slowed her wing beats and settled back to the ground. Flinx relaxed. Feeding off her master’s relaxation, the minidrag’s mind was eased that much more. Still, she did not fold her wings flat against her sides, and she stayed alert.

Kiijeem continued to advance one stealthy step at a time. His unshod claws scraped rock, seeking the most secure foothold. If this was a game, the hypothesized unseen players were not ready to call it off. Was he actually going to have to bleed the tall figure confronting him? And what was it doing with its arms and hands? Why had it positioned itself with one leg in advance of the other, instead of side by side to gain the most height when leaping and kicking out?

It did not matter. If constrained within a clever costume, whoever had been hired or otherwise engaged to frighten him would find their movements correspondingly restricted. The realization was reassuring. Letting out a swelling battle hiss, his tail whipping behind him, Kiijeem AVMd charged across the painstakingly sculpted, slightly sloping sandstone that enclosed the artificial pool.

Overlooked by the onrushing reptilian figure and reassured by her master’s muted emotions, Pip lay half dozing on the slice of rock where she had decided to rest and ignored them both.

At a chosen distance from his target, Kiijeem gave free rein to his powerful leg muscles and leaped. Though not yet fully mature he was strong for his age and the beneficiary of good martial training. As he started to descend toward his taller target, he cocked his legs and prepared to kick out, keeping bengk and tail in reserve. Still the shape before him did not move; merely continued to track him with its peculiar round eyes. Choosing the optimum moment, Kiijeem kicked. Still uncertain as to the seriousness of the challenge, he elected to strike for the chest instead of the head. If he was fighting an actor constrained by a costume, he did not want to mutilate or kill.

He need not have worried. As his legs shot forward in the direction of his opponent he expected it to try a blocking maneuver or to retreat. Instead, the tall shape ducked and threw itself forward. Exhibiting a suppleness that reflected the flexibility of a truly soft body, it tucked into a ball and rolled. As Kiijeem dropped farther and tried to adjust the striking angle of his double kick, the human figure thrust out and upward with both legs. Kiijeem flicked his tail downward, but he was not quite fast enough. Before the tail’s sheathed point could strike home, both of his opponent’s feet made contact between the base of the AAnn’s tail and his legs.

The swift kick in the behind sent Kiijeem sprawling unceremoniously on the rocks. His landing was as undignified as it was unanticipated. Fortunately for him, the claws on human feet were stunted and harmless. Momentarily stunned, he recovered in time to see the human shape standing once more erect on both legs, still somehow managing to maintain itself upright in the absence of a counterbalancing tail. Expecting an attack, Kiijeem scrambled frantically to regain his footing. Lying on the ground, he was vulnerable.

The figure did not attack. Instead, it stood breathing easily while staring back at him. The fingers on both fleshy hands curled inward against the palms: a sign of inoffensiveness. Truly, Kiijeem decided, this was the most peculiar deception in which he had ever participated. His opponent ought to have rushed him when he was down. What kind of game was being played here? Was his adversary showing deliberate disdain for Kiijeem’s fighting skills? But if that was the case, why was the tall shape not making the appropriate accompanying gestures of contempt? Rising to his feet, Kiijeem dropped back into a fighting crouch.

“I intend you no injury, I wish you no harm,” the figure declared in its barely accented AAnn.

“Sspawn of sswamp,” Kiijeem hissed. “I will take your tail!” As he charged a second time it struck him how futile the threat must sound. His opponent had no tail. Unless, Kiijeem reminded himself, it was coiled and bound inside the base of the human suit to further the illusion.

Maybe this was some kind of test, he told himself as he rushed forward, bengk at the ready. If so, he would not be found wanting.

Let it not be said that he failed to learn from experience. This time he did not jump. Instead, at the last instant he dropped into a slide, legs thrust out in front of him, intending to take his foe’s feet out from underneath. No unarmored human could have duplicated that swift slide on unforgiving rock without sacrificing plenty of skin. The young AAnn’s scaly hide protected him from any scrapes or cuts. To distract his opponent Kiijeem threw his torgk upward, straight at the figure’s face. This left him free to strike out with the bengk at whatever portion of his rival’s anatomy came within reach.

None did. The figure simply jumped straight up into the air. One downward-sweeping arm batted the flying torgk aside. Digging in with his claws, Kiijeem stopped his slide directly beneath the falling human shape. Bengk and tail upraised, he waited for his opponent to simply fall on the point of blade or sheath. His intent was still only to wound and not to kill. Lying on the nearby sandstone, a suddenly concerned Pip raised her head to eye the ongoing combat.

As the figure fell toward him it twisted in midair. Demonstrating un-AAnn-like flexibility at the thigh, one leg swung out and around to hook the upthrust tail and half coil around it, trapping it and rendering it harmless. At the same time an arm snapped downward to knock aside the hand holding the bengk. The fingers of the other hand spread wide.

The air whooshed out of Kiijeem as the heavy body landed on top of him. His tail was hooked and trapped, the hand holding the bengk was pinned to one side, and his adversary’s other hand …

The other soft but powerful hand was gripping his throat.

Only the fact that those clutching fingers were clawless kept Kiijeem from giving in completely to panic. The blunt keratin at the tips of those five (why five and not the normal four? he wondered) could do him no harm. But the fingers themselves—how strong were they?

He was utterly helpless, Kiijeem realized. His legs were free, but the heavy body lying atop his pinned form prevented him from flexing enough to make contact with his clawed feet. He struggled to kick free, to no avail. What if his opponent chose to tighten further those choking fingers? Kiijeem considered yelping for help, but if this was a test, or a masquerade, it would only magnify the humiliation of his defeat. At the hands of an unarmed opponent, no less.

He waited for his enemy to increase the pressure on his throat. He waited for him to claim the right to inflict a ceremonial injury. He waited for a rush of hissing laughter from hidden, unseen mouths. What happened next unnerved him completely.

The tall, lanky figure released the grip on his throat, carefully straightened the leg that had locked itself around Kiijeem’s tail, rose, and stepped back to look down at him. Lying on the ground, Kiijeem let the fingers clutching the bengk loosen as he stared dazedly up at his opponent.

“I attacked with weaponss. You have the right to claim damage.” He waited stoically. As the tailless shape came slowly toward him he closed his eyes and tensed.

A soft, pulpy hand made contact with his own right one. Five digits wrapped around his four. Not to break, not to dislocate, but to pull. The strength in those spongy fingers was as surprising as the figure’s agility. As they helped him upright, Kiijeem could detect nothing of artifice about the gesture. Breathing hard, he stared up at his infuriatingly phlegmatic opponent.

“You inflict no injury.” Even an actor, he knew, would leap at the opportunity to acquire that germane bit of status, if only as a bonus in addition to whatever payment he had been promised. Kiijeem looked around. The night was still calm, the exclusive residential neighborhood still quiet. No shapes emerged from the darkness to laugh, to chide, or to admonish him. His lower jaw dropped to reveal sharp teeth, and his tongue lay flat and numb against his palate.

“It’s a human thing,” Flinx told him, careful not to show any teeth of his own as he smiled back.

“You…,” Kiijeem searched for appropriate words. “You really are a human.”

“Truly,” Flinx replied, this time without even a trace of an offworld accent.

“How can thiss be? How can you be?” Aware that he was still gripping the bengk, Kiijeem realized that the figure standing before him was within easy stabbing range. The tip of his tail twitched, instinctive preparation for whipping around and striking. The appendage seemed oddly heavy. Looking around, he saw that something had attached itself to the very tip.

The small flying creature had wrapped its coils around the end. Staring at the brightly colored blue and pink creature, Kiijeem took in the slitted eyes, the scaly body, and reflected that it was the one he would have been comfortable conversing with. Alas, while the winged thing was somewhat perceptive it was just as obviously not sentient.

“If I cannot be,” Flinx replied gently as he took 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 granting friendship 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 prevalent among his kind. Noninterference in the young nye’s decision was, on Flinx’s part, something of a gamble. He smiled inwardly. He had gambled similarly on one or two occasions in the past, and he was still here.

His assessment paid off. Turning his head to one side, Kiijeem exposed his throat. At the same time, he reached out toward the human, the claws on his hand fully retracted. Across the distance that separated them, Flinx mimicked the clutching gesture flawlessly.

“Sso you are telling me,” a now far more at ease Kiijeem began as he lowered his arm, “that you have ssomehow penetrated all Imperial planetary and ssysstem defenssess ssolely in the sservice of a perssonal interesst?”

Flinx nodded, then thought to add the appropriate AAnn gesture of third-degree reassurance. “That’s one reason. There is another.” Turning slightly to his left, he glanced at the eastern sky. It was starting to lighten. “Not enough time for complete explanations now, I’m afraid. You and I have struck concordance. I’m not sure others of your kind would be so accommodating if they were aware of my presence here.” He turned back to his young host. “Also, the city authorities are looking for me.”

Kiijeem looked startled. “They know there iss a ssoftsskin in Krrassin?”

Flinx smiled. “No. They’re looking for a nye who has made use of illicit exchange.” He indicated his neatly laid-out simsuit. “Not only have I passed illegally among your kind, I’ve passed illegal funds.”

“Sso that iss what you are doing here, on the property of my family.” Kiijeem’s emotions had run the gamut all the way from fear to delight. “You are a fugitive twice over: as a ssoftsskin without portfolio and as a common criminal.”

Flinx shrugged. “Anymore it seems like I’m always doing things in multiples.” He indicated an artificial rock overhang, the area it sheltered hidden from both the lowlying main residence and the street. “Can I stay awhile, and if I do will you keep my presence here a secret?”

“Are we not now friendss in combat, ssoftsskin?” Straightening out of his crouch, Kiijeem approached as Flinx rose to his feet. Turning his head to one side, the young AAnn exposed his throat. Flinx gripped it lightly, withdrew his hand, and turned his own head. Had he not been able to perceive the nye’s emotions, he would never have taken such a chance. Young as he was, Kiijeem still had claws sharp enough to rip out a human throat.

The AAnn touched him appropriately and then stepped back. “You may sstay. Can you eat normal food?” Flinx gestured assent, though without the typical tail embellishment. Even in the absence of the accompanying gesture, Kiijeem understood. “You musst hide during the day. Tonight I will bring you ssomething to eat. Thiss area of the compound iss maintained and groomed by automatics. They are unssophissticated and eassily avoided.” He studied the tall human. “Tonight you will ansswer my quesstionss. I have many.”

“I have a few of my own,” Flinx replied. The possibilities presented by this unexpected new relationship were unspooling in his mind. In seeking a quiet place to hide for the night, he might have found a good deal more.

If Flinx handled it right, young Kiijeem AVMd might just be his way safely out of the capital city of Krrassin and off the homeworld of the predatory AAnn.