"One as stupid as you would not understand the method," Thak replied levelly, "but the result of warping all of our power beams was a network of opaque lines that to an observer would be an obvious signal. And now, if you are quite ready to leave—?"
Grumbling, Mitfpa departed, taking his soldier-worker with him. Thak checked the placement of the telescope, finally nodding in satisfaction as he found everything in proper order. The four students crowded around, watching with interest. He gazed good-naturedly at them.
"Our work is a great one," he declared. "We must communicate with the third planet by means of a system of signals that we shall work out—in time. But there is so little time...." His tentacles curled thoughtfully about him. "You have followed the work of our last great physicist, Mor Gran?"
"You mean," asked an alert youngster named Rofan, "the probability tables worked out by him? Showing that the end is near for our race?"
Thak nodded sadly. "Indeed, lad, the future appears dark. War and its disorganization must inevitably strangle civilization. Even now our race is thinned in numbers, and the beasts of the desert multiply."
"There," he went on, waving toward the blue planet, "is our only hope. If we can effect communication with them, and be guided by their superior wisdom, we may yet rally. They may have some secret—some way to prevent wars—"
"There!" Thak said. "There lies our only hope."