"But what of the vowel harmony?" protested Goré. "Surely that must mean the harmonious vowels are all in the same words."
Ohashi adjusted the set of his glasses. "Who knows?" he asked. "Certainly, the back vowels and front vowels come together many times, but...." He shrugged, shook his head.
"What's happening with the group that's working on the historical analogy?" asked Goré. "You were going to find out, Ohashi."
"They are working on the assumption that all primitive sounds are consonants with non-fixed vowels ... foot-stampers for dancing, you know. Their current guess is that the galactics are missionaries, their language a religious language."
"What results?" asked Zakheim.
"None."
Zakheim nodded. "To be expected." He glanced at Francine. "I beg the forgiveness of the Mrs. Doctor Millar?"
She looked up, startled from a daydreaming speculation about the Galactic language and dancing. "Me? Good heavens, why?"
"I have been short-tempered today," said Zakheim. He glanced at his wristwatch. "I'm very sorry. I've been worried about another appointment."
He heaved his bulk out of the chair, took up his briefcase. "And it is time for me to be leaving. You forgive me?"