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swelling. That seems to be everything.
Sims settled back on his haunches, fished in his side pocket, and came up with a small pipe, which he
cold-puffed in thought for a second. He rose slowly, still staring down through the floor window. He
murmured something to himself, and when Soames asked what he had said, the special advisor repeated,
I think we ve got something almost too hot to handle.
Soames clucked knowingly, and gestured toward the window. Have you been able to make out
anything he s said yet?
Sims shook his head. No. That s why you re here. It seems he s saying the same thing, over and over,
but it s completely unintelligible. Doesn t seem to be any recognizable language, or any dialect we ve
been able to pin down.
I d like to take a try at him, Soames said, smiling gently. It was the man s nature that challenge brought
satisfaction; solution brought unrest, eagerness for a new, more rugged problem.
Sims nodded agreement, but there was a tense, strained film over his eyes, in the set of his mouth. Take
it easy with him, Soames. I have a strong hunch this is something completely new, something we haven t
even begun to understand.
Soames smiled again, this time indulgently. Come, come, Mr. Sims. After all . . . heis only an alien of
some sort . . . all we have to do is find out what country he s from.
Have you heard him talk yet?
Soames shook his head.
Then don t be too quick to think he s just a foreigner. The wordalien may be more correct than you
think only not in theway you think.
A confused look spread across Soames s face. He gave a slight shrug, as though he could not fathom
what Lyle Sims meant . . . and was not particularly interested. He patted Sims reassuringly, which
brought an expression of annoyance to the advisor s face, and he clamped down on the pipestem harder.
They walked downstairs together; the secretary left them, to type her notes, and Sims let the philologist
into the padded room, cautioning him to deal gently with the man. Don t forget, Sims warned, we re
not surewhere he comes from, and sudden movements may make him jumpy. There s a guard overhead,
and there ll be a man with me behind this door, but you never know.
Soames looked startled. You sound as though he s an aborigine or something. With a suit like that, he
must be very intelligent. You suspect something, don t you?
Sims made a neutral motion with his hands. What I suspect is too nebulous to worry about now. Just
take it easy . . . and above all, figure out what he s saying, where he s from.
Sims had decided, long before, that it would be wisest to keep the power of the Brandelmeier to himself.
But he was fairly certain it was not the work of a foreign power. The trial run on the test range had left
him gasping, confused.
He opened the door, and Soames passed through, uneasily.
Sims caught a glimpse of the expression on the stranger s face as the philologist entered. It was even
more uneasy than Soames s had been.
It looked to be a long wait.
Soames was white as paste. His face was drawn, and the complacent attitude he had shown since his
arrival in Washington was shattered. He sat across from Sims, and asked him in a quavering voice for a
cigarette. Sims fished around in his desk, came up with a crumpled pack and idly slid them across to
Soames. The philologist took one, put it in his mouth, then, as though it had been totally forgotten in the
space of a second, he removed it, held it while he spoke.
His tones were amazed. Do you know what you ve got up there in that cell?
Sims said nothing, knowing what was to come would not startle him too much; he had expected
something fantastic.
That man . . . do you know where he . . . that soldier and by God, Sims, that s what heis comes
from, from now you re going to think I m insane to believe it, but somehow I m convinced he
comes from the future!
Sims tightened his lips. Despite himself, hewas shocked. He knew it was true. Ithad to be true, it was the
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