The Shores of Death by Michael Moorcock Read Free Book Online

Clovis, it can’t be an enemy—and even if it were we couldn’t do much against it—we’ve no warships. Come on, let’s go and greet it.”
    Laughing and calling to one another the assembly members broke up, making for their cars, rising into the air like a great flock of excited birds.
    “Which carriage shall we use?” Narvo asked. “Yours or mine?” .
    “It’s all right,” Clovis said. “ You and Fastina go in yours and I’ll go in mine.”
    Again Narvo gave him that slightly puzzled glance, then accepted his statement.
    Fastina said gaily: “What a day, Clovis! What a rich day!”
    “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “Rich.”
    He went up to his car, fingering the keyboard of his subsonic whistle to give the car its directions. As it started off, he looked down at the colourful blossoms of the trees, at the empty glade, and he felt empty too.
    The cars were streaming away all around him. He moved with them, but apart from them, slightly above and to one side. They moved like a huge school of tropical fish, a horde of scintillating craft bearing their stimulated, emotion-drunk passengers towards the sea.
    Soon they could see it in the distance, partially immersed in the sea. The bright sun gleamed on the green, shiny water, on the white beach and the brown cliffs—and on the pale-blue and dark-blue checks of the ship. The smell of brine was strong.
    What remained above sea-level looked like a huge blue box with rounded corners, the size of a large building. The sea foamed around it as the cars began to arrive and hover expectantly.
    The image of the flock of birds persisted as the cars swooped and wheeled like gulls about the ship, their occupants calling to one another.
    Then a large oblong section of the roof opened and tall, yellow bipeds stepped out to stand looking up at the welcoming party.
    They were, in a way, bird-like, too.
    There were four of them; obviously two males and two females.
    They stood about eight feet high and had very lean, angular bodies.
    Their skins were a bright yellow, tinged with green.
    Their heads were rather like eggs set on their sides, balanced on thin necks.
    Their plumage was very bright—red, blue and purple with green crests on their strange, oval heads. The females had long, sweeping tail feathers that reached to the ground, but the darker-skinned males had a kind of collar of feathers around the throat.
    The head tapered to a hard-looking beak-like muzzle in which the nostrils and the long, down-curved mouth were set.
    The eyes were very large and blank and did not blink.
    Arriving behind the others, Clovis was in time to see the visitors raise their arms—three slender fingers and what seemed to be two thumbs on each hand—and signal to one of the nearest aircars.
    In spite of his resentment towards them, Clovis now felt curious enough to speed close to the ship in order to study them.
    Then one of the aliens spoke. Clovis could faintly hear his piping voice. The crowd became silent, listening to the strange tones that were reminiscent of the language of dolphins.
    Evidently they don’t know Earthish, thought Clovis, moving closer. He heard Narvo yell at him:
    “Clovis—you ought to be the first to speak to them! ”
    He looked for his friend and saw him hanging over the side of his aircar, waving at him from above.
    “What shall I say?” He tried to smile, to speak lightly. “I certainly don’t know their language.’
    “We ought to say something in reply—to be polite.”
    What I want to say it not polite, thought Clovis. “Welcome visitors from space,” he began laconically. The aliens cocked their heads to listen to him, rather in the manner of cockatoos. “We of Earth greet you and offer you hospitality.”
    The aliens continued to cock their heads, but he refused to say any more.
    Now that he was facing the problem of communicating with them, he became more interested. He knew what to do. “Telepaths! ” he cried. “Is there anyone here who is a