"Well, no," faltered the tech. "But a baby! Five hundred feet high—and invisible—and able to carry on an intelligent conversation?"
"Which reminds me," said Jerry, sternly. "I am going to ask you to edit both the tape and that typewritten translation of that conversation. It's just as well too many people don't get the inside story on my job, and its rather rugged drawback. And as for yourself.... Well, I can't order you to forget what you've read there."
"I won't talk about it, sir, if that's what you mean," said the tech. "It's not such a hard secret to keep. All the crewmen on the ship know there's something pretty awful about your job. I just happen to know what. All I'd get for spilling the inside dope would be, 'Oh, is that what it is!' Hardly worth it."
"That's hardly a noble reason to keep a secret," Jerry murmured, looking narrow-eyed at the tech.
The man grinned, then shrugged. "Makes my life easy, too. Now when you flare up at me, I'll know why, and skip it."
"Thanks a hell of a lot," Jerry muttered.
The tech laughed aloud.
"But," the zoologist added soberly, "we did learn one surprising lesson today. The forty-minute Contact period can be broken, under certain stresses."
The smile left the tech's face, and he looked earnestly puzzled. "I don't follow you, sir. There was nothing on the tape about—"
"Tape?" said Jerry. "You saw how quickly I came out, didn't you? What's that got to do with the tape?"