Benj’s screen image held up one finger and nodded just as Barlennan finished speaking, but boy waited for the other question to reach him before he spoke.

“I can answer your first question, and Mr. Cavanaugh has gone to find someone who can take care of the second,” were his opening words. “Kervenser started out on his scouting flight about eleven hours ago. It wasn’t realised that he must be in trouble until about eight hours later, when everything popped at once — Kervenser and his flier gone, the Kwembly frozen in, and Beetchermarlf and Takoorch somewhere under the ice — at least no one knows that’s where they are but they were working under the hull and there’s no other place anyone can think of for them to be. One of the sailors — Reffel — took up the other flier with a vision set to look for Kervenser, and searched very close to the Kwembly for a while. Then we suggested that he move out to where an accident wouldn’t have been seen or heard from the cruiser, which he did, and of course, Dondragmer lost sight of him from the bridge. Then we got into a discussion with the captain and everyone up here got interested, and it turned out that no one was watching Reffel’s screen for several minutes. Then someone noticed that the screen had gone completely blank — not no-signal-lank but no-light black — and that was that.”

Barlennan glanced at Guzmeen and the scientists. None of them spoke, but none of them needed to. No one had been watching the screen when Reffel used the shutter! It was not the sort of luck one counted on.

Benj was still speaking.

“The sound wasn’t on, of course, since no one had been talking with Reffel, and no one has any idea what happened. This was just before my mother called you, less than half an hour ago. That would make something like two and a half hours between the two disappearances. We’ll have to wait for your other answer, since Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t back yet.”

Barlennan was a little bewildered by the arithmetic, since the boy had used Mesklinite number-words with human number-background, but got it straight with a few seconds of thought.

“I’m not complaining,” he returned, “but I gather from what you say that over two hours passed between the Kwembly’s freezing in and Kervenser’s disappearance, and our being told about it. Do you know why that might have happened? I realize, of course, that there was nothing I could have done, but there was some understanding about keeping me up to date with the land-cruisers. Of course, I don’t know just what your job is at the station, and you may not have that information; but I hear from my communications man that you have been talking a lot to the Kwembly, so you may be able to help. I’m waiting.”

Barlennan had several motives behind his closing remark. One was obvious enough; he wanted to learn more about Benj Hoffman, especially since the latter was good with the Mesklinite language and, if Guz were right, seemed to want to talk to Mesklinites. Maybe he would be like the other Hoffman, a second sympathy-center in the station. If so, it would be important to know just how much weight he could swing.

Also, the commanded wanted to check unobtrusive on Guzmeen’s notion that Benj ad been chattering with Kwembly crew members. Finally, even Barlennan could tell that Benj was young for a human being doing serious work — his selection of words and general narrative style had been a giveaway. That fact might well be put to good use if a reasonably close relationship could be established.

The boy’s answer, when it finally came, was inconclusive one way, but promising in another.

“ I don’t know why you weren’t told about Kervenser and the freeze-up right away,” he said. Personally, I thought you had been. I’d been talking a lot with Beetchermarlf — I guess you know him; one of Don’s helmsmen; the one can talk with and not just listen to — and when I heard he’d disappeared I was concentrating on what could be done about it. I wasn’t here in the comm room quite all the time; it’s not my duty station — I just come when I can talk with Beetch. I admit someone should have told you sooner, and if you like I’ll try to find out who should have and why he didn’t. My mother ought to know, or Mr. Mersereau.

“I don’t know how much explaining I’d better supply about the background to my job here. On Earth, when someone finishes basic education — the sort of thing everyone has to get, like reading and physics and sociology — he has to work as unskilled labor on some essential job for two or three of our years before he is eligible for either specialises or general higher education. Nobody says it right out, but everyone knows that the people your work for have the main say in what you can do afterward. Nominally I’m assigned to the aerology lab here as a sort of picker-upper and hey-you; actually anyone in the station who yells first and loudest gets me. I must admit they don’t make my life very hard. I’ve been able to spend a lot of time talking to Beetch the last few days.”

Barlennan was able with fifty years experience to translate without effort the thought behind a human being’s use of the word day.

“Of course,” the boy went on, knowing your language helps. My mother’s a language nut, and I picked it up form her. She started on yours ten years ago when Dad was first connected with the Dhrawn project. I’ll probably be doing comm work semiofficially a good deal of the time form now on. Here comes Mr. Cavanaugh with one of the astronomers whose name I think is Tebbets. They’ll answer your question about seeing lights, and I’ll try to find out about the other business.”

Benj’s face was replaced on the screen by that of the astronomer — a set of broad, dark features which rather surprised Barlennan. He had never, as it happened, seen a bearded human being, though he was used to wider variations in cranial hair. Tebbetts’ was a small Vandyke adornment quite compatible with a space helmet, but it made a drastic difference to the Mesklinite’s eye. Barlennan decided that asking the astronomer about it would be tactless; it might be better to get the information from Benj later. There was nothing to be gained by embarrassing anyone.

The facial extension, to the commander’s relief, did not interfere with its owner’s diction, and Tebbetts had evidently been given the question already. He started to talk at once, using the human speech.

“We can detect from here any of the artificial lights you have, including the portables, though we might have trouble with beamed ones not pointed our way. We’d used regular equipment — photomultiplier mosaics behind appropriate objective; anything you’re likely to need could be set up in a few minutes. What do you want us to do?”

This question caught Barlennan by surprise. He had, in the few minutes since discussing the matter with this scientists, been going more and more certain that the men would deny being about to detect such lights. Certainly if the commander had been a little more foresighted he would not have answered as he did — in fact, he was regretting what he said well before the words reached the station.

“You should have no trouble spotting our land-cruiser Kwembly; you already know its location better than I do, and its bridge lights would be on. Its two helicopters have disappeared, and they normally carry lights. I’d like to have you scan the area, within, say, two hundred miles of the Kwembly as carefully as you can for other lights, and tell bother me and Dondragmer the positions of any you find. Would that take long?”

The message lag was quite long enough to let Barlennan realize how he had slipped. There was nothing to be done about it now, of course, but to hope, thought that word is a bad translation of the nearest possible Mesklinite attitude. The answer did cause him to brighten up a little; maybe the slip wasn’t too serious — as long as the human beings didn’t find more than two other lights near the Kwembly!