"What's the matter with you two?" Blalok asked.

"Be quiet," Alexander snapped. "This isn't your problem. Kennon is behaving like a spoiled child!"

"He's a telepath!" Kennon said. "And he didn't tell me."

"So what? I've known that for years."

"And you stand for it?"

"I'm a Mystic, not a Betan," Blalok said. "I don't have your insane desire for privacy."

"Go find that thought screen if you still have it!" Alexander said. "I don't want any more of this. You're making me ill!"

Kennon grinned thinly as he rose to his feet. It was a good thing he remembered Alexander was squeamish and didn't like anatomy. The door was to his left, an iris door with eight leaves--terribly old-fashioned.

About ten steps away. Count them--one--two--three--

Alexander sighed as Kennon left the room. "I certainly pushed the panic b.u.t.ton on that young man," he said. "He has a pathological att.i.tude toward telepathy. Wonder what he has to hide that he wants privacy so badly? Even for a Betan this reaction was violent."

"Oh, I don't know. He's a pretty emotional sort. Maybe he hates to look like a fool. He's gotten himself mixed up with one of the Lani. Cute little thing by the name of Copper," Blalok said.

"Oh--that's it. I thought that was what he was hiding. A picture of a girl kept popping up." Alexander chuckled. "I suppose that's the trouble. A man hardly likes to look a fool, particularly to someone who has warned him. At that, I don't blame him. They are beautiful and affectionate. And even with their superst.i.tions and tabus they're better than most humans."

"For pets," Blalok said heavily.

"They're not better at anything," Jordan demurred. "They can't be--man is the best and always will be."

"The eternal racial chauvinist," Alexander murmured. He turned his attention to Blalok. "But for awhile, Evald, I'd suggest you keep an eye on our young man. I still don't like his reaction. It was too violent--too defensive. I don't feel right about it. Perhaps Betans are more sensitive than most people but it seems to me that he's trying to conceal something. There was an undertone of fear--and something else--beneath his defenses."

"Couldn't you get any more than that?" Blalok asked. "You're pretty good at this mind-reading business."

"His defenses were remarkably good," Alexander said dryly.

Well he'd done it now, Kennon thought. He found the thought-screen circlet sandwiched between two books on comparative neuroanatomy which he hadn't bothered to unpack. He slipped it on and connected the lead wires to a portable battery pack. There was a half-forgotten tingling as the weak field heterodyned his thought waves. Kennon sighed. If Alexander wasn't suspicious of him now the man was a fool. He'd done as well as he could with confusion and outrage, but it was hardly possible to hide behind superficialities. Even the most disciplined mind couldn't do that without some preparation. Undoubtedly his concern about Copper had leaked through. He could only hope that other and more important things had not.

Well--he could go back to the conference now, but he would have to be doubly careful from now on. He couldn't make daily trips to Olympus. His reaction had killed that plan. Alexander would be suspicious now--and unusual actions would crystallize suspicion to certainty. Now he needed a reason to be in that area. And then he grinned. He had a reason--a good one--one that would fit in with Alexander's plans and his own.

The only problem would be to make Alexander buy it--and that might be difficult. He'd have to work carefully--but with normal luck he could put the idea across. He crossed his fingers as he trudged back up the path to Alexandria.

The conference dragged on. Unlike most meetings, this one accomplished things--which was a tribute to Alexander's ability to keep the subject in hand. Details of the expansion program presented by Alexander were rapidly reduced to workable plans. They involved some rearrangement of existing facilities, and the construction of others. But the obvious snags were rapidly disposed of, and the whole revamped operation was outlined on paper in surprisingly few hours. A deadline date was set, construction was authorized, and in the morning the first steps in the practical implementation of the new program would be taken.

"Well, that's that," Alexander said with a sigh. "I think this calls for a drink."

"There's one more thing," Kennon said. "I know it isn't much, but Jordan's remark started me thinking."

"What remark?" Jordan asked.

"The one you made at the beginning about Phoebe possibly being like the Olympus Station. I've often wondered why that particular location has been so difficult to operate. Sure, I know the accepted explanation, but I think we should learn why it works and how to break a tabu. If we don't, we might be in for trouble."

"That's a good thought," Alexander said. "I tried to find out once, but all I could discover was that it was tabu. The Lani simply didn't like it. And despite the fact that I can read minds, I didn't learn any more than that. There's a certain s.e.x-linkage to telepathy, as you probably know."

Kennon nodded.

"All I could discover was that their dislike of Olympus was a basic emotion rather than reasoned thought. They were nervous, irritable, disobedient, and uncooperative while they were there--and even they didn't know why. It was merely tabu. We even tried youngsters--but the att.i.tude was the same. I'd like to know more about that basic emotion."

"We should understand it," Kennon agreed. "If we transship a large number of Lani to a strange world, we should know their deepest motivations. We cannot take the chance that the transplant won't take, with all the money you're sinking into this project."

"You have a point there. Have you any suggestions about how to accomplish this?" Alexander's voice was interested.

"I have. Hire a psychologist. And reopen Olympus."

"It'll be the same story," Jordan said.

"Not if you apply experimental procedure," Kennon said. "Divide the place into a number of separate units in which groups of--say ten--Lani of various ages are kept. Let every group know where they are, but don't let them come in contact with one another. Observe them constantly. Put spy cells in the units. Couple them to recorders. Prepare a set of test situations and observe how each group performs. Question individuals under narcosynthesis. Observe and record any changes in physical condition--give them the works. Maybe we can collect some basic data that will indicate the answer."

"Not a bad idea," Alexander said.

"I don't like it," Jordan said. "It sounds c.u.mbersome."

"It is," Kennon agreed. "But it may save a great deal of trouble later."

"I think you're right, Kennon," Blalok said. "We should know everything we can."

"What would you do first if you were heading this program?" Alexander asked. He eyed Kennon critically.

"Nothing," Kennon said promptly. "I'm not qualified to run an investigation like this. You need a specialist. I am a pract.i.tioner."

"Hmm--but you know experimental procedure."

"Naturally--but I do not have the training to prepare a program or evaluate its results. The only thing I could do would be to check the physical condition of the experimental groups."

"Could you set up the physical facilities?" Alexander asked.

"Possibly--I'd need a set of plans of the station, and I couldn't guarantee that the specialist wouldn't want to make changes. But the physical arrangements should be simple enough to construct."

"How long would it take you to prepare a plan?"

"I could have it by tomorrow, or perhaps a day later."

"If you can do it by then I'll stay over. I'd like to examine this proposal more closely. It has merit. That's the second constructive suggestion you've made tonight. Despite your peculiar desire for privacy, I'm glad you came back." Alexander smiled.

Kennon smiled back. Apparently the entrepreneur had taken the bait.

But it was too early to tell whether he had swallowed it without reservation. It all depended upon how much had been given away before he had discovered that Alexander was a telepath. Perhaps Alexander was merely leading him on. There were too many intangibles, and there was no way of predicting how it would turn out. But he felt mildly optimistic.

Alexander closed the meeting, and Kennon left promptly. He had a good excuse. There was plenty of work to do if he was going to prepare an adequate plan for utilizing Olympus Station. Jordan went with him, but Blalok stayed behind. It was natural enough. Blalok was the administrator, but Kennon felt uneasy. Nor would he have felt any better if he could have heard what went on after he left.

Alexander looked quizzically at Blalok after the door closed behind the two men.

"Well, Evald, what do you think? Does it strike you that Kennon's sincere--or does it sound as though he has something up his sleeve?"