Then a wave of amusement from Ptarra checked him. "They'd never reach that far," she called. "They can't survive the crash of their vehicle. Let them go."
Arnek felt the faint, murky mental signals so low on the band, and he knew Ptarra was right. They were staggering now, and the smaller one seemed to be only partly conscious. He sighed and scooped up the ground car, carrying it back to Ptarra.
This time his mate was making no effort to rip the ship apart. She was staring through one of the tiny ports, trying to fit her great eye against it. And she seemed uncertain. Finally she took the ground car and began dismantling it, looking for automatic or remote controls.
There were none.
"Maybe the creatures operated it—and the ship," Arnek said. He expected the same reaction the remark had drawn before.
This time Ptarra showed no amusement. Her great head shook in puzzlement. "About one time in ten thousand a crazy male hunch comes true," she muttered. "Intuition! It's against all logic. But there are only manual controls here. Where are those silly creatures?"
The two that had arrived last were pitifully exposed, just within an opening in the rocks. It was a shallow space, hopeless to defend. The smaller one lay supine, but the larger human faced the two silths, holding his pitiful weapon, and waited grimly until they were almost within reach. This time the explosive pellets were aimed for their eyes.
Ptarra dropped her eyelids, swearing as the missiles stung. She reached in with a short foreleg. There was a single shrill cry and the sound of the weapon striking against a rock; the low band was suddenly quiet. Arnek heard a soft gulp. When he looked, the larger human was gone.
A sudden shock ran through Ptarra's thoughts. Her great eyes blinked and a huge tongue ran over her lips. "Nerve fiber!" Her shout covered the entire spectrum. "Arnek, there are pounds of nerve fiber in the creature! High grade—better than that in these silth forms. As good as that in any silth. Here, give me the other."