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Before beginning Project Ozagenocide, make sure thatretaliation is impossible. Make sure.
Thus it was that four months after the appearance of the Gabriel above Siddo, two presumably friendly (to wogs) Terrans set out on a trip with two presumably friendly (to Terrans) wogglebugs. They were going to investigate the ruins of a city built two thousand years ago by now nearly extinct humanoids. They were inspired by a dream that had been dreamed on the planet Earth years before and light-years distant.
They rode in a vehicle fantastic to the human beings.
6
The motor hiccoughed, and the car jerked. The Ozagenian sitting on the right side of the rear seat leaned over and shouted something.
Hal Yarrow turned his head and yelled, 'What?'
He repeated in Siddo, ' "Abhudai'akhu?" '
Fobo, sitting directly behind Hal, stuck his mouth against the Earthman's ear. He translated for Zugu though his American sounded weird with its underlying trill and resonant approximations.
'Zugu says and emphasizes that you should pump that little rod to your right. It gives the... carburetor... more alcohol.'
The antennae on Fobo's skullcap tickled Hal's ears. Hal spoke a word-sentence consisting of thirty syllables This meant, roughly, 'I thank you.' It consisted initially of the verb used in the present masculine animate singular first person form. Attached to the verb was a syllable indicating freedom from obligation on the part of either the speaker or hearer, the inflected first person pronoun, another syllable indicating that the speaker acknowledged the hearer as most knowledgeable of the two, the third person masculine animate singular pronoun, and two syllables which, in their order of sequence, classified the whole present situation as semi-humorous. Reversed in sequence, the classifier would indicate that the situation was serious.
'What did you say?' shouted Fobo, and Hal shrugged. He suddenly realized that he had forgotten a palatal click, the lack of which either changed the meaning of the phrase or else made it completely meaningless. In either case, he did not have the time or the will to repeat.
Instead, he worked the throttle as Fobo had directed. To do so, he had to lean across the gapt, sitting at his right.
'A thousand pardons!' Hal bellowed.
Pornsen did not look at Yarrow. His hands, lying on his lap, were locked together. The knuckles were white. Like his ward, he was having his first experience with an internal combustion motor.
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