The Lieutenant lay in the brush listening to the talk of the three hairless aliens. It was surprisingly trivial, the sort of thing he might have heard on his home world: the rising price of food in the city; the cost of fuel for their wheeled vehicles; obscure references to politics; an amusing remark about the female of the species. The similarity to what he knew gave Henig confidence.
He slid out of his hiding place and moved toward the three bipeds. This was the ultimate test. If the computers had been right, the Lieutenant would pass them unnoticed.
He was nearly across the road when the alien things saw him. They fell silent and backed away from him. He saw terror in their faces a split-second before one of them—a female—began to scream. The second male turned and fled into the trees. The other drew out a cylindrical tube which was a weapon. Henig tried to read the emotion in their minds, but the only comprehensible thought the telecommunicator picked up was a paralyzing horror.
Henig sprang at the hairless biped who had the weapon, clawing the ugly, white face. The female screamed again and beat at him with her forepaws. The weapon exploded as the male went down, his face a torn, beaten pulp. Henig felt the hot pain of the metal pellet lodged in the flesh of his shoulder. In panic he fled beyond the frame building.
And the Scientist-General had said he would be safe—without weapons, without the protection of his uniform! The logic of civilization didn't apply on a primitive world of animal emotions.
Henig expected pursuit, but he heard no footsteps behind him. He stopped running and crept back toward the wooden building. The pain of his shoulder wound spread numbly into the rest of his body. His nerves seethed with nausea. Blood oozed from the torn flesh, congealing on his naked chest.