I say this does not surprise me, at all.
"Lizzie my love," says he, "you are twice blessed being not only witty yourself but a cause of wit in others; was that bit of Primitive Lee with which M'Clare regaled us really not from the hand of the mistress, or was it a mere pastiche?"
I say Whoever wrote that it was not me anyway.
"It seemed to me pale and luke-warm compared with the real thing," says Cray languidly, "which brings me to a point that, to quote dear Kirsty, seems to have been missed."
I say, "Yep. Like what language it was that these people wrote their log in that we can be certain the Incognitans won't know."
"More than that," says B, "we didn't decide who they are or where they were coming from or how they came to crash or anything."
"Come to think of it, though," I point out, "the language and a good many other things must have been decided already because of getting the right hypnotapes and translators on board."
B suddenly lights up.
"Yes, but look, I bet that's what we're here for, I mean that's why they picked us instead of Space Department people—the ship's got to have a past history, it has to come from a planet somewhere only no one must ever find out where it's supposed to be. Someone will have to fake a log, only I don't see how—"
"The first reel with data showing the planet of origin got damaged during the crash," says Cray impatiently.