"Same way you can think of war paint and feathers, I suppose. Different people, different reactions. QX, I'll be in there and see you in fifteen or twenty minutes. Flit!"
She left, and Kit heaved an almost explosive sigh of relief. Mighty good thing she hadn't asked too many questions—if she had become really curious, he would have had a horrible time keeping her away from the fact that that kind of work never had been done and never would be done outside of solid, multiply, Arisian screen. He ate, cleaned up, ran a comb through his hair, and, when his mother was ready, crossed over into her speedster.
"Whee ... whee-yu!" Kit whistled descriptively. "What a seven-sector call-out! Just who do you think you're going to knock out of the ether on Lyrane II?"
"Nobody at all." Clarrissa laughed. "This is all for you, son—and maybe a little bit for me, too."
"I'm stunned. You're a blinding flash and a deafening report. But I've got to do a flit, Gorgeous. So clear—"
"Wait a minute—you can't go yet! I've got questions to ask you about these new networks and things. How do I handle them?"
"Sorry—you've got to develop your own techniques. You know that already."
"In a way. I thought maybe, though, I could wheedle you into helping me a little. I should have known better—but tell me, all Lensmen don't have minds like this, do they?"
"I'll say they don't. They're all like yours was before, but not as good. Except the other L2's, of course—Dad, Worsel, Tregonsee, and Nadreck. Theirs are more or less like yours is now; but you've got a lot of stuff that they haven't."