"Those undoubtedly are the most bloodthirsty, aggressive, merciless countenances it has ever been my misfortune to encounter," Magnan said. "It hardly seems fair. Eight feet tall and faces like that!"
The smaller of the two captive Qornt ran long, slender fingers over a bony shin, from which he had turned back the tight-fitting green trousers.
"It's not broken," he whistled nasally in passable Terrestrial, eyeing Magnan through the heavy goggles, now badly cracked. "Small thanks to you."
Magnan smiled loftily. "I daresay you'll think twice before interfering with peaceable diplomats in future."
"Diplomats? Surely you jest."
"Never mind us," Retief said. "It's you fellows we'd like to talk about. How many of you are there?"
"Only Zubb and myself."
"I mean altogether. How many Qornt?"
The alien whistled shrilly.
"Here, no signalling!" Magnan snapped, looking around.