It could also fly.
Garf paddled idly around Dor’s apartment, pretending interest in the shell-paintings that decorated the walls. He had presented her a bouquet in which rare blossoms hid slimy, smelly weeds, and she was sore at him—again. As she finished her conversation and switched off the two-way radio, he turned to her. “Dor,” he said softly.
She looked at him haughtily. “Don’t speak to me!” she said. “I told you you’d have to stop your irresponsible practical joking and settle down. Some hard work wouldn’t hurt you even if you did inherit a fortune. I don’t mind so much when you pull these stunts on me, but when I think of how you practically drowned those poor, defenseless Earth-creatures....”
His mouth twisted. “Poor, defenseless Earth-creatures! How was I to know they couldn’t swim? Just imagine—beings that live on a world with almost as much water as ours, who can’t use their natural abilities any more than that! It’s ridiculous. I never saw such morons—the big, ugly one especially!”
He had intended that to sting, and it did. Dor raised her nose another notch. “I think he’s cute, and I’m learning he’s pretty intelligent, too. He catches on fast to everything I tell him. He and his little friend will have their spaceship finished soon now, and....”
“That’s another thing!” Garf snapped, keeping her on the defensive. “Maybe I violated Security by going to Earth when they accidentally opened the gate, but what are you doing? What would the Fed say if they knew you were giving out information the Earthmen hadn’t acquired by themselves—helping them get into space? What about that?”
Dor shrugged. “I’m not telling them anything, really. Just dropping a few hints of the most elementary sort. Things they’d have figured out soon anyway—and things they still have to work hard to make practicable. Even if some of the inventions they’ve worked out so far have enabled them to make enough money to live on nicely—after all, those things are the merest toys to us—what could it possibly matter?”
Garf considered. This bickering was, as usual, getting them exactly nowhere. He gave up. “All right, dear,” he said. “You win; you’re right, of course, and I’m wrong. I only hope you won’t bother so much with talking to that Earth-slug on the radio after we’re married.”
Dor laughed a tinkly laugh and came into his waiting arms. “Darling,” she cooed. “What a thing to say. I actually believe you’re jealous—and you know I only love you.”