“Why no, it is not,” replied Cleve, his grin widen-big. “There appear to have been extenuating circumstances.”
“Is that what the ship’s commander said?” pressed Hinkel.
“Sort of, and it wasn’t the ship’s commander. It was an interpreter. An apprentice interpreter.” The grin was charming.
Hinkel feigned surprise, then concern.
“That seems rather odd, Commander Cleve. Did they—it—give a reason for proceeding in such a manner?”
“Matter of fact, they did. One which you in particular, Mr. Hinkel, ought to understand and sympathize with. It seems they could not spare the time to meet with us just now because the entire crew is absorbed in taking in a broadcast from their home planet.”
“Incredible! Think of it, ladies and gentlemen! A beamcast across light-years! Something important enough to draw them into postponing this delicate moment between species; important enough to be boosted at heaven knows what cost across trillions of miles of naked vacuum! Commander, did’the alien reveal the nature of this broadcast to you? And if so, are you at libery to repeat it?”
“I don’t see why they’d mind,” said Cleve. He was watching Hinkel, not the three bilhon pairs of eyes the camera represented.
“As near as I can make out, the commander of the alien vessel, his entire complement, the contact team, everyone, are deeply immersed in the two thousand four hundred and twenty-sixth episode, segment, or
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quadrant of something entitled ‘At Nest With the Vorxes.’
“It would appear, ladies and gentlemen, that the human race has been temporarily pre-empted.” And he turned and walked back to the ship.