“A very good idea, oddly enough, considering the source,” one of the women in very short skirts said. “Do take us to your leader. I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge. I represent BIEX, the galaxy’s leading pharmaceutical concern, and—” “Come off it, Portia,” said one of the men in shiny pants. “She’s just a kid. Doesn’t even look like she speaks English.” “Petaybeans don’t need to speak English,” Sister Igneous Rock told the man sternly. “They communicate instinctively with the Beneficent Source. Please take us there, dear. Can you give us a name, perhaps?” “This unworthy one has been called Goat-dung,” ’Cita began timorously, awed by the presence of such strange, if apparently ignorant, ones. “Not by me,” Sister Igneous Rock said indignantly, wrinkling her nose as if ’Cita smelled like her namesake. “Really, dear, while natural names are pleasing to the Beneficence, I would not dream of calling the first actual denizen of Petaybee I meet by such a demeaning name as ‘Goat-dung.’ ”
