Quozl by Alan Dean Foster Page A

realization that we have no other choice.” The burly Supervisor carefully adjusted a leg scarf.
    Looks-at-Charts waited a properly deferential moment. “Do we anticipate violence?” As a sign of respect he adjusted a scarf of his own.
    â€œWe do not. We can not. If contact proves unavoidable, violence must be abjured, regardless of the consequences. The damage to the Quozl psyche would be worse than anything the natives could do. You and your colleagues must keep that always in mind when you go down.”
    Looks-at-Charts forgot all his other questions. “Go down? It has been decided, then?”
    The Supervisor looked back at the closed door. “Not yet, but it will come soon. They must decide that way. There is no other choice.”
    Looks-at-Charts breathed deeply but hid it from his Senior lest he be considered impolite. “When?”
    â€œPerhaps as soon as tomorrow. One ship. You, Burden-carries-Far, others to be determined. A full complement.”
    It made perfect sense, Looks-at-Charts knew. One ship first, in case of hostilities or unforeseen complications. Survey would take longer, but this way there would be insurance. For those on the Sequencer . Not for those who went down first. He reminded himself to lay out his finest attire.
    The Landing Supervisor was checking his chronometer. “Who would you take?” he asked unexpectedly.
    Looks-at-Charts thought quickly.
    â€œFlies-by-Tail scores highest in simulations. She’s quick and sure.”
    â€œWhat about the scientific complement?”
    Looks-at-Charts dropped eyes and ears deferentially. “I am not so certain I am qualified to choose among experts not in my field.”
    â€œDon’t be so modest. You all know each other. Come, I’m asking your advice.”
    â€œSince you ask, I would take Breathes-hard-Out as meteorologist and Walks-with-Whispers for geology. I beg indulgence for my poor selections.”
    â€œYou need a xenologist.”
    Looks-at-Charts considered. The xenologist would have to be female, since the idea of taking an unbalanced crew was unthinkable. He didn’t have to think long.
    â€œStands-while-Sitting.”
    Lifts-with-Shout was clearly surprised. “She is fifth generation. I applaud your respect but beg additional explanation.”
    â€œI know, but she’s still active sexually and anyway, mating considerations and compatability should not be foremost in these determinations. The science group will need internal direction and she’ll be senior to the others.”
    â€œSome say she is actually fourth generation.”
    â€œI don’t care. I’ve met her several times and wouldn’t mind mating with her myself. She’ll be a steadying influence on the entire sextet, especially if the unforeseen happens and we stumble into any of the natives. I’d like to have her knowledge and experience with us.”
    â€œAs you wish. I commend your choice, but make certain everyone takes the proper coupling suppressants prior to departure.”
    Looks-at-Charts acknowledged strongly. “Time enough for that later if everything goes well. We don’t want to be dealing with hormonal distractions on the surface of Shiraz.”
    â€œNo, we don’t,” the Landing Supervisor agreed. “I disagree with none of your choices, and I’m certain the Captain will concur.”
    It was all going smoothly enough, Looks thought to himself. They would land, engage in a flurry of studies, select a burrow-site, and bring down the Sequencer , all while avoiding contact with the combative natives. Glory without conflict. Their names would fill entire history texts. He was wholly optimistic. He had to be. They all had to be because there was nowhere else for them to go.
    Lifts-with-Shout turned to leave but the scout begged a last question. “Are we positive the natives have no means of detecting the Sequencer while we remain in