"_Can you remember_ the actual communication?"
Horng's head tilted to one side in a peculiarly strained fashion;
Rynason could see a muscle jumping where the alien's neck blended with
his torso. THE MEMORIES ARE BURIED SO DEEPLY. I CANNOT REACH THEM.
Rynason gazed pensively at the interpreter as these words were recorded.
What could have happened during that conversation that would have caused
its memory to be so deeply buried?
"Can you find among any of the rest of Tebron's memories any thoughts
about Kor?"
YES. TEBRON HAD MEMORIES THAT HE HAD COMMUNICATED WITH KOR, BUT THESE
ARE FLEETING. THERE IS NOTHING CLEAR.
The Hirlaji was shaking, his entire body trembling with some sort of
tension which even communicated itself through the interpreter, causing
the stylus to quaver and jump forward, dragging a jagged line across the
paper. Rynason stared up at the alien, feeling a chill down his back
which seemed to penetrate through to his chest and lungs. This massive
creature was shaking like the rumbling warnings of an earthquake, his
eyes cast downward from the deep shadows of their sockets; Rynason could
almost feel the weight of their gaze like a heavy, dark blanket. He
lifted the interpreter's mike slowly.
"Your race does not forget," he said softly. "Why can't you remember
this conversation?"
Horng's four-digited hands clasped tightly and the powerful tendons
stood out starkly on the heavy wrists as Horng drew in long breaths of
air, the sound of his breathing loud in the great space under the dome.