In contrast to the heat and humidity of coastal Texas, the landing party set down in a small valley surrounded by low, rounded hills. A mix of green and purple scrub furred the slopes, occasionally broken by an isolated tall growth that was scarcely a meter wide at the base. The pleasantly cool, ozone-rich air smelled slightly of overcooked asparagus and the sky showed a green tint that was decidedly foreign. Startled by the arrival of the landing craft, several pencil-thin creatures with large membranous wings lifted off the scrub and soared away to the east.

Stepping out of the landing craft behind the last Kaijank, Dev was careful to remain behind the much taller biped. That did not prevent him from seeing that Vantolos was already deep in discussion with the representatives of the Mozehna who had been awaiting the Olone’s arrival. Not knowing what to expect and having been instructed to do essentially nothing, he was able to take some time to study their physical appearance.

The solitary Olone loomed over the locals, the tallest of whom might have come up to Dev’s shoulders. In height they were thus a little taller on average than the A'jeii, but more slender. So lean, in fact, that it set Dev to wondering if their correspondingly thin bones might contain a higher percentage of metallic elements than his own. Eyes mounted on short, flexible stalks protruded from each side of a head that was only marginally wider than the neck and body on which it was mounted, giving them a very wide range of vision. Stick-like hearing organs emerged from the tops of slightly oval heads. What he could see of skin that was not covered by shining, almost iridescent blue and yellow clothing was the color of aged oak mottled with vertical dark gray stripes. In four-fingered hands they held devices of surprising heft and unspecified purpose. Their size, Dev reflected, might not appropriately reflect their mass. If it did, the reedy Mozehna would not have been able to lift the instruments they carried.

As he looked on from his position behind the two Kaijank, the ongoing discourse between Vantolos and the locals grew steadily in volume, punctuated by occasional louder outbursts from both sides. For such willowy creatures, the Mozehna spoke in voices of surprising resonance. Their speech consisted largely of a rising and falling singsong interrupted by percussive exclamations that sounded like castanets.

Vantolos was now standing on two tentacles while gesticulating wildly with the other pair. Though Dev knew nothing of the Mozehna language or culture, the entire exhibition was highly suggestive of increasing agitation on both sides. The Olone’s performance alone was proof enough of that.

Abruptly, the screeching and shouting waned. Turning his body, Vantolos gestured as he spoke to the still concealed Dev.

“Come forward now, human. Let them see you.”