“Me?” replied Johanna, keeping her eyes on the strange mob. Scarcely any of them had clothing, but their pelts were just as mangy as the stories had claimed. Some of the creatures were almost hairless except down near their paws. “We saved these fellows.”

“Oh, they aren’t the ones you’re unpopular with,” said Pilgrim. Johanna drifted a little nearer the mob. Now there were dozens of heads following her, jaws snapping nervously. Pilgrim continued, “Hei, I didn’t say the Tropicals like you either! I’ll wager that none of them realize you helped save them.”

Necks lunged in her direction, and one or two of the critters tumbled down from atop the others. For a moment, she thought this was an attack, but when the Tines reached the ground, they just looked startled. Johanna backed away a step or two. “Yes, I see what you mean. These are like battle fragments. They’re scared and mindless.” And they could go into attack mode if something spooked them.

“That’s about right,” said Pilgrim. “But keep in mind that these fellows are not the remains of packs. Most likely they have never been part of a coherent pack. Their mindsound is just a pointless choir.”

Johanna continued along the edge of the mob. There was a certain distance the crowd seemed comfortable with. If she got inside that, they would begin to come at her. Pilgrim was right. These weren’t like war casualties. Battle fragments she had known longed to be part of coherent packs. They would react with friendliness toward Pilgrim, trying to entice him close. If they had known humans before they were damaged, they would be quite friendly to her. “So what’s going to happen to them?” she said.

“Ah well, that’s why you’re a bit unpopular with the shore patrol. You know we get a shipwreck like this every few years. The cargo is mostly junk, not the sort of things you’d find if serious trade were intended.”