A small, bent figure clung to the wire netting of the fence. He was shouting at the ship, but his excited words were no match for the decompression hisses of the auxiliary drive.
"Humanoid?" Mason suggested.
"Human, I'd say." Cassidy gestured toward the gear locker. "Better break out the translator."
In baggy trousers and sagging blouse, the man raced back and forth behind the fence—the picture of frustrated anger. However, large, doleful eyes, complemented by a bald head and huge, pendulous ear lobes, belied his furious actions.
Presently the squeals of the Fuzzy Tails trailed off in the distance and the auxiliary drive quieted with a final sigh. And now the native's shouts rang out distinct and loud:
"Quick! From here get you! Shoo! Scram! Or out there I'll come and apart tear you!"
"It's English!" Mason exclaimed.
"Of a sort. Archaic, but understandable. And not at all friendly."
Mason scratched his blunt chin. "Guess we're not too far off the beaten star paths, eh?"
Cassidy could find no grounds for challenging this observation as they started down the ladder—not until he looked overhead and saw three suns shining in the same sky. As far as he knew, there were no settled trinary systems.