The Beachcomber was standing motionless by the edge of the forest as their scooters floated down to rest on the pebbly beach. He was wearing a pair of stained, weathered duroplast shorts, but nothing else; no hat to protect his great domed head, no sandals on his feet, no equipment, not even a knife at his belt. Yet Maxwell knew that there were flesh-eaters in the jungle that would gobble a man outside the force-field of his scooter in about half a second. Knowing the Beachcomber, none of this surprised him. Whether it occurred to Alice to be surprised at any of it, he couldn't tell. She was eating the Beachcomber with her eyes as he walked toward them.
Maxwell, swearing silently to himself, turned off his scooter's field and stepped down. Alice did the same. I only hope she can keep from trying to flirt with him, Maxwell thought. Aloud, he said, "How's it, Dai?"
"All right," said the Beachcomber. Up close he ceased to be merely impressive and became a little frightening. He stood over seven feet tall, and there was an incredible strength in every line of him. His clear skin looked resilient but hard; Maxwell privately doubted that you could cut it with a knife. But it was the eyes that were really impressive: they had the same disquieting, alien quality as an eagle's. Dai never pulled his rank on anybody; he "went native" perfectly when he had to, for social purposes; but he couldn't help making a normal human adult feel like a backward child.
"Dai, I'd like you to meet Alice Zwerling."
The Beachcomber acknowledged the introduction with effortless courtesy; Alice nearly beat herself to death with her eyelashes.
She managed to stumble very plausibly as they walked down to the water's edge, and put a hand on the giant's arm for support. He righted her casually with the flat of his hand on her back—at the same time giving a slight push that put her a step or two in advance—and went on talking to Maxwell.
They sat down by the water's edge, and Dai pumped Maxwell for the latest news on Earth. He seemed genuinely interested; Maxwell didn't know whether it was an act or not, but he talked willingly and well. The Beachcomber threw an occasional question Alice's way, just enough to keep her in the conversation. Maxwell saw her gathering her forces, and grinned to himself.
There was a pause and Alice cleared her throat. Both men looked at her politely. Alice said, "Dai, are there really man-eating animals in this jungle? Vernon says so, but we haven't seen a one, all the time we've been here. And—" Her gaze ran down the Beachcomber's smooth, naked torso, and she blushed very prettily. "I mean—" she added, and stopped again.
The Beachcomber said, "Sure, there are lots of them. They don't bother me, though."