"But how can I do that?" Carter asked. "I don't know anything at all about these Aliens."
"Can't you use your mental training to help you learn to talk mind to mind?"
"I suppose so. That shouldn't take more than a few days. The techniques are well established with other new races we've encountered. But learning his language won't make him answer."
I looked at him with my most superior manner. "While you're learning his language, I suggest you learn some of his psychology. Then you can get some of our engineers to design you a machine that will function the way a polygraph does with humans—act as a lie detector. With the proper choice of questions, you should find out anything you want to know."
He shuddered delicately at the mention of that naughty word "machine." Mentalists sometimes become purists and make fools of themselves by trying to do without machinery—something like the attitude of the Aliens.
When I had given Carter his instructions, I turned to the rest of the expedition. "I want all of your weapons," I said. "And don't try holding out on me. That's to include knives and scissors, too. We'll lock them up in Jones' vault."
"Now see here," said Jones. "Some more of those Aliens may show up any time. We can't afford to go out without our guns."
"That's just the reason you've got to get rid of them. I don't want you to start shooting each other—and me. Now, send out a party as fast as you can to bring back a sample of the building material that blocks out their minds. We'll ship it back to Earth and see if they can put it into mass production. Have the party bring back that second Alien, too. If we happen to spoil the one we've got making him talk, it would be nice to have a spare."
While the small group was away, I had Obadiah improvise some leg irons out of light chain and padlocks, and used them to hobble all of the Earthmen who remained in camp. Jones screamed like a holta whose mate has estivated, but it didn't do him any good. I had the authority.