"I assume that some of you, at least, understand me," it said. "Our captors, having learned a little of my language in the months I have spent here, hope to save themselves trouble by using me as an interpreter. Do you wish to acknowledge acquaintance with my speech, or do you think it better to act as though our races had never encountered each other? I was not captured near my home planet, so you might get away with such an act."
Most of the Earthmen had some knowledge of Vegan speech—the two systems are near neighbors, and enjoy lively commercial relations—and all looked to Albee for a decision. He wasted little time in thought; it was evident that they would be better off in communication with their captors than otherwise.
"We might as well talk," he answered, forming the signs as well as he could with his arms. "We should like to find out all you can tell us about these creatures, and it is unlikely that we would be given the chance to communicate secretly with you. Do you know where we are, and can you tell us anything about this planet and its people?"
"I know very little," was the answer. "I believe this world is somewhere in the Cloud, because the only time one of us was ever outside the fort at night he could see the Galaxy. Neither I nor my companions can tell you anything about the planet's own characteristics, for we have been kept inside the base which these creatures have established here ever since our capture. We move too slowly in this gravity to escape from them, and, anyway, the sun has not sufficient ultraviolet light to keep us alive. Our captors, we are sure, are not natives of the planet; they seldom venture outside the walls themselves, and always return before nightfall. Furthermore, they live on provisions brought by their interstellar ships, rather than native food.
"They have not told us the reason for our capture. They allow us to prepare everything we need for existence and comfort, but every time we try to divert supplies to the production of weapons, they seem to know it. They let us nearly finish, and then take it away from us. They never get angry at our attempts, either. We don't understand them."
"If they are so careful of your well being, why do they try to drive us crazy on a steady diet of lime juice?" interrupted Little.
"I could not say; but I will ask, if you wish," returned the Vegan. He swung his fusiform body laboriously around until he was facing one of the creatures who had accompanied him to the ship, and began semaphoring the question. The men watched silently; those who had not understood the preceding conversation were given the gist of it in brief whispers by their fellows. Little had not had a chance to ask if the others had been fed as he had been; their silent but intense interest in the answer to his question indicated that they had. The chronic slowness of Vegan communication rendered them all the more impatient to know the reason, as the black and yellow creature solemnly waved at the motionless pentapod.
There was a brief pause before the latter began to answer. When it did, the Earthman understood why an interpreter was necessary, even though both sides knew the same language. The arms of the creature were flexible enough in front-to-rear motion, as are human fingers; but their relatively great width hampered them in side-to-side waves, and put them at a severe disadvantage in using the Vegan language. The Vegan himself must have had difficulty in comprehending; the Earthman could not make out a single gesture.
Finally the interpreter turned back to the human listeners and reported the result of his questioning: