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(Page 2 of 2) One Year, Five Hundred and Twenty Three Days by Steve Jones -B5 It was a story about the pale colored Earth people. As Tarx watched, the story unfolded; a family and their interactions with other people who lived near them.
"What was that sound when that young one insulted the older man?"
"That's how Earth people sound when they laugh," Thubia said solemnly.
"Then this is a story to show their young about retribution for insults," he said.
"No, it is not."
Tarx stood to his feet, not believing his eyes as he watched a blood insult being ignored, and then compounded by another insult and more laughter.
"The Earth people teach their young that such insults are amusing," she said. "They teach them not to avenge. They teach them not to fight."
Tarx had backed away to the end of the tent, as far away from the window and it's offending images.
"How do they live?" he demanded. "How do they expect to survive being so ... so passive?"
"Truly I do not know," Thubia said. "I do know that if they found us they would want to meet us. The Earth people would want to be our friends, and they would want to live among us. And then they would want us to stop fighting. They would want us to be passive too."
Tarx shook his head briskly. The royal family was right. The Earth people must never know there was ever anyone living on Bartoom.
"I will finish packing tonight," Tarx said.
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(4 ratings)