“I know; I’ve read the Historical Research Section’s report. It makes Earth look like the crossroads of the Universe.”
“There may have been visits about which you know nothing,” said Stormgren, still angling hopefully. “Though since you must have been observing us for thousands of years, I suppose that’s rather unlikely.”
“I suppose it is,” replied Karellen, in his most unhelpful manner. And at that moment Stormgren made up his mind.
“Karellen,” he said abruptly, “I’ll draft out the statement and send it up to you for approval. But I reserve the right to continue pestering you, and if I see any opportunity, I’ll do my best to learn your secret.”
“I’m perfectly well aware of that,” replied the Supervisor, with a slight chuckle.
“And you don’t mind?”
“Not in the least — though I draw the line at nuclear weapons, poison gas, or anything else that might strain our friendship.”
Stormgren wondered what, if anything, Karellen had guessed. Behind the Supervisor’s banter he had recognized the note of understanding, perhaps — who could tell? — even of encouragement.
“I’m glad to know it,” Stormgren replied in as level a voice as he could manage. He rose to his feet, bringing down the cover of his case as he did so. His thumb slid along the catch.
“I’ll draft that statement at once,” he repeated, “and send It up on the teletype later today.”