Francine buried her face in her hands. "The fools!" she whispered. "Oh, the fools!" Abruptly, sobs shook her. She found herself crying with the same uncontrollable wracking that had possessed her when she'd learned of her husband's death. Ohashi waited silently. The tears subsided. Control returned. She swallowed, said: "I'm sorry." "Do not be sorry." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Shall we knock off for the night?" She put her hand over his, shook her head. "No. Let's look at the latest films from the ship." "As you wish." Ohashi pulled away, threaded a new film into the projector. Presently, the screen came alive to a blue-grey alcove filled with pale light: one of the "class" rooms in the spaceship. A squat, green-skinned figure stood in the center of the room. Beside the Galactic was the pedestal-footed projection board that all five used to illustrate their "lectures". The board displayed a scene of a wide blue lake, reeds along the shore stirring to a breeze. The Galactic swayed. His face moved like a ripple of water. He said: "Ahon'atu'uklah'shoginai'eástruru." The green arms moved up and down, undulating. The webbed hands came out, palms facing and almost touching, began chopping from the wrists: up, down, up, down, up, down.... On the projection board the scene switched to an under-water view: myriad swimming shapes coming closer, closer--large-eyed fish creatures with long ridged tails. "Five will get you ten," said Ohashi. "Those are the young of this Galactic race. Notice the ridge." "Tadpoles," said Francine. The swimming shapes darted through orange shadows and into a space of cold green--then up to splash on the surface, and again down into the cool green. It was a choreographic swinging, lifting, dipping, swaying--lovely in its synchronized symmetry. "Chiruru'uklia'a'agudav'iaá," said the Galactic. His body undulated like the movements of the swimming creatures. The green hands touched his thighs, slipped upward until elbows were level with shoulders. "The maiden in the Oriental dance," said Francine. Now, the hands came out, palms up, in a gesture curiously suggestive of giving. The Galactic said: "Pluainumiuri!" in a single burst of sound that fell on their ears like an explosion. "It's like a distorted version of the ritual dances we've been watching," said Ohashi. "I've a hunch," said Francine. "Feminine intuition. The repeated vowels: they could be an adverbial emphasis, like our word _very_. Where it says '_a-a-a_' note the more intense gestures." She followed another passage, nodding her head to the gestures. "Hiko, could this be a constructed language? Artificial?" "The thought has occurred to me," said Ohashi. * * * * * Abruptly, the projector light dimmed, the action slowed. All lights went out. They heard a dull, booming roar in the distance, a staccato rattling of shots. Feet pounded along the corridor outside the room. Francine sat in stunned silence.