He has four arms and four legs, all of them about two fingers thick, so he looks sort of spidery. When Mirrik came blundering along and almost squashed him the other day, Dr. Horkkk went straight up the wall, which was pretty scary to behold. Afterward he cranked Mirrik over in a dozen different languages, or maybe three dozen, calling him “drunken ox” in all three dozen. But Mirrik apologized and they’re good friends again.

No matter what his race was, Dr. Horkkk would belong on this trip. But Steen Steen is here purely on the minority thing. I hardly need to tell you: Steen’s a Calamorian, a real militant one, as if there’s any other kind. He/she is one of the other apprentices, slipped last year from a Calamorian university, which must be even more of a diploma mill than rumor has it. This one doesn’t know a thing. Casual discussion reveals that Steen’s knowledge of the theory of archaeology is about as deep as my knowledge of the theory of neutrinics, and I don’t know anything about neutrinics. But I don’t pretend I do; and Steen is supposed to be a graduate student in archaeology. You know how he/she got here, of course. Calamorians are forever yelling about status, and threatening to make war on everybody in sight if their intellectual attainments aren’t universally recognized and admired. So we’re stuck with Steen by way of keeping his/her people cool.

At least Steen’s good-looking: sleek and graceful, with shiny emerald skin and long twining tentacles. Every movement is like something out of a ballet. Nobody admires Steen more than Steen, but I guess that’s forgivable, considering that Calamorians have both sexes in the same body and would go crazy if they didn’t love themselves. But Steen is dumb, and Steen is excess baggage here, and I resent his/her presence.