In the course of the two contact encounters, neither had spoken a word to the humans. One had said something to the principal alien, the tentacled Vantolos. Or maybe he (they would all be “he” in Dev’s mind until gender clarification was provided) hadn’t said anything. Maybe the armed biped had simply blown air into one of Vantolos’s hearing organs. There was so much they didn’t know about the gruff, commanding visitors. Given the abrupt nature of the two meetings that had transpired thus far, all they had to go on were endless analyses of the audio-video recordings.

Was the asperity intentional? Designed to intimidate, to restrict questioning and conversation while delivering demands? It was impossible to avoid the thought even as he knew that, like his colleagues, he risked imposing humanoid cultural norms on creatures that were utterly non-human. Perhaps in the ethos of tentacled interlocutors, brusqueness denoted courtesy and understanding whereas extended casual conversation was a sign of contempt and indifference.

But then there was that one backward glance….

During the course of conversation, the two massive bipeds had ignored the humans. Were they simply not curious about a newly met species? Or were they under orders, or commands, or some other unknown directive to ignore anything that was not an obvious threat to themselves or Vantolos? If such was the case, then why the look back, and at the very last moment?

Rising from the bed on which he had been watching television with the sound off, Dev walked to the compact bathroom to brush his teeth. He was obsessing over a glance. That attention to oftentimes obscure detail had been a characteristic of his since childhood. It had also garnered him several promotions, when he had found holes in arguments or, more importantly, in proposed budgetary material. Yet this time his fixation seemed misplaced, almost frivolous. There likely was nothing of significance to the alien’s backward glimpse. Maybe it was doing nothing more than relieving pressure on its neck. Still, Dev could not shake it from his memory.

Possibly, he told himself, because the two bodyguards were bisymmetrical bipeds. Like humans, they had two arms, two legs, two eyes, hands with fingers (albeit two fewer on each) and walked upright. In appearance and in movement they were far more like humans than was the cephalopodan Vantolos. Yet Vantolos was plainly in charge. Were the bipeds Vantolos’s comrades, equal partners in the unexpected stopover on a small planet? Or did they occupy lesser positions in the hierarchy of visitors? For that matter, were they and Vantolos’ kind the only two species on the mothership? Might there be more, whose importance superseded that of Vantolos’s people but who preferred to remain out of sight, pulling diplomatic and martial strings from the safety of their vessel?