"Uh ... why, yes, I've seen them myself, doctor." Troy's mind began to race. The lead had been deliberately cut, no question of that. But why? He might have spent another hour checking over the recording equipment before discovering it-- "It means, of course," he heard Clingman saying, "that the dry sea basins of Cassa One gradually are filling with water. Now, we know the vital importance to the Tareegs of being able to immerse themselves in the--to them--sacred fluid, and how severely they have been rationed in that respect here. One might have thought that, from the High Dsalas down, all of them would have plunged eagerly into the first bodies of water to appear on the planet. But, no ... so great a thing must not be approached in that manner! A day was set, months in advance, when it could be calculated that the water level would reach a certain point. At that hour, every Tareeg who can be spared from essential duty will be standing at the shore of the new sea. And together...." Abruptly, the meaning of Clingman's words faded out of Troy's mind. The sudden nighttime summons to Clingman's office--had it been no accident after all? Had he done something in the past few hours to arouse suspicion, and was he being detained here now while his rooms were searched? Troy felt sweat start out on his face. Should he say anything? He hesitated, then reached quietly into the tool kit. "... and only then"--Clingman's voice returned suddenly to his consciousness--"will the word be prepared to go back, and the messenger ships filled with the sacred water so that it can be blended at the same moment with the twin worlds' oceans, to show that Cassa One has become jointly a part of each...." Messenger ships--the interstellar drones, of course. And the big troop of Hammerheads which had been taken from the station in the personnel carrier less than an hour ago.... His hands trembling a little, Troy quickly closed the recorder, picked up the tool kit. Clingman checked himself. "Oh ... you've finished, Gordon?" He sounded startled. Troy managed to work a grin on his face. "Yes, doctor. Just a broken lead. And now, if you'll excuse me...." He started to turn away. "Ah, one moment!" Clingman said sharply. "There was ... I ... now where...." He gazed about the table, pushing fretfully at the piles of notes. "Oh, yes! Dr. Rojas ... Room 72. You were on your way up here when he attempted to reach you. Something that needed ... well, I forget now what he said. Would you mind going over there immediately?" "Not at all." Troy's heart was pounding. If there had been any doubt he was being deliberately delayed, it would have vanished now. Dr. Rojas, of course, _would_ have something waiting that "needed" Troy's attention before he got to Room 72. A call from Clingman would arrange for it.