As he sat there, doubting, an uneasiness he had seen in Nathen came back to add to his own uncertainty, and he remembered just how close that uneasiness had come to something that looked like restrained fear. "What I don't get is why he went to all the trouble of picking up TV shows instead of just contacting them," the _News_ complained. "They're good shows, but what's the point?" "Maybe so we'd get to learn their language too," said the _Herald_. On the screen now was the obviously unstaged and genuine scene of a young alien working over a bank of apparatus. He turned and waved and opened his mouth in the comical O shape which the _Times_ was beginning to recognize as their equivalent of a smile, then went back to trying to explain something about the equipment, in elaborate awkward gestures and carefully mouthed words. The _Times_ got up quietly, went out into the bright white stone corridor and walked back the way he had come, thoughtfully folding his stereo glasses and putting them away. No one stopped him. Secrecy restrictions were ambiguous here. The reticence of the Army seemed more a matter of habit, mere reflex, from the fact that it had all originated in the Intelligence Department, than any reasoned policy of keeping the landing a secret. The main room was more crowded than he had left it. The TV camera and sound crew stood near their apparatus, the Senator had found a chair and was reading, and at the far end of the room eight men were grouped in a circle of chairs, arguing something with impassioned concentration. The _Times_ recognized a few he knew personally, eminent names in science, workers in field theory. A stray phrase reached him: "--reference to the universal constants as ratio--" It was probably a discussion of ways of converting formulas from one mathematics to another for a rapid exchange of information. They had reason to be intent, aware of the flood of insights that novel viewpoints could bring, if they could grasp them. He would have liked to go over and listen, but there was too little time left before the spaceship was due, and he had a question to ask. * * * * * The hand-rigged transceiver was still humming, tuned to the sending band of the circling ship, and the young man who had started it all was sitting on the edge of the TV platform with his chin resting in one hand. He did not look up as the _Times_ approached, but it was the indifference of preoccupation, not discourtesy. The _Times_ sat down on the edge of the platform beside him and took out a pack of cigarettes, then remembered the coming TV broadcast and the ban on smoking. He put them away, thoughtfully watching the diminishing rain spray against the streaming windows. "What's wrong?" he asked. Nathen showed that he was aware and friendly by a slight motion of his head. "_You_ tell me."