That brought back Pud's ill-temper. "Miracle! Didn't you see me give this cosmic kiddycar of theirs a couple of psychokineticlouts so they'd land where they did?" The Senior Scientist glared around at their thousand-and-one experiments, and then down at the little spaceship, smaller than the smallest of them, squatting on toy fins. He curled a tentacle, as if wishing he could swat it.
Gop knew, however, that despite Pud's irritation at having his work interrupted, he was just a little intrigued by the aliens. No matter how insignificant they were they were animate life of some intelligence, and Pud must be wondering about them.
Gop thought it might be a good idea to dwell on that, in order to keep Pud from getting his heads in an uproar again.
"Can you get into their thoughts?" he inquired.
"I haven't tried. I don't think I could keep my potential down to their level."
"Wonder where they're from."
"Who cares?" Pud snorted. "I just wish they'd go away."
Gop noted, though, that Pud's heads were lowering closer over the creatures.
"They're nowhere near acceptable Contact level, are they?" Gop said, after a moment.
"From their appearance, I'd say they're even beneath classification. Reaction motor in their ship. Primitive weapons. Protective garments ... they can't even adjust physically to hostile environments!"