“From what your brother said, you wouldn’t need the distorter.”
Naran smiled deprecatingly. “That’s one of the things they pay me for,” he remarked. “We run into some pretty nasty beasties at sea.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard. Big, rough fellows. Our varmints are smaller. But what would you do if you ran into twenty tons or so of pure murder, and you with no more psionic power than some pseudoman?”
Naran looked at him thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I might not like it. Jaws as longs as a man, you said?”
The other nodded. “Longer, sometimes. And teeth as long as your hand. One snap and there’s nothing left.
“When they kill a long-neck, they have a good meal and walk away from whatever’s left. But people are something else. They just can’t get enough and they don’t leave any crumbs.” He waved a hand.
“There’ve been several trains caught by those things. A swirl arm comes over at night, you see, and the caravan master loses his head. He can’t think of anything but getting out. Oh, he can yell at his drivers. They’ve got a language, and we all know it. That’s easy. But did you ever try to get a long-neck going without psionic control?”
“I see what you mean. It could be a little rough.”
“Yeah. It could be. Anyway, about this time, everybody’s yelling at everybody else. The long-necks are squealing and bellowing. Drivers are jerking on reins. And a herd of carnivores hears the commotion. So, they drop around to see the fun. See what I mean?”
Naran nodded and Dar Girdek went on.