"That's a highly inflected version of early Interlingua, Captain,"
Mannion said. "After I taped it, I compensated it to take out the
rise-and-fall tone, and then filtered out the static. There were a few
sound substitutions to figure out, but I finally caught on. It still
doesn't make much sense, but that's what it says."
"I wonder what we're invading," I said. "And what is the 'Mancji
Presence'?"
"They just repeat that over and over," Mannion said. "They don't answer
our call."
"Try translating into old Interlingua, adding their sound changes, and
then feeding their own rise-and-fall routine to it," I said. "Maybe that
will get a response."
I waited while Mannion worked out the message, then taped it on top of
their whining tone pattern. "Put plenty of horse-power behind it," I
said. "If their receivers are as shaky as their transmitter, they might
not be hearing us."
We sent for five minutes, then tuned them back in and waited. There was
a long silence from their side, then they came back with a long
spluttering sing-song.
Mannion worked over it for several minutes. "They must have understood
us, here's what I get," he said:
THAT WHICH SWIMS IN THE MANCJI SEA; WE ARE AWARE THAT YOU HAVE THIS
TRADE TONGUE. YOU RANGE FAR. IT IS OUR WHIM TO INDULGE YOU; WE ARE
AMUSED THAT YOU PRESUME HERE; WE ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR INSOLENT DEMANDS.
"It looks like we're in somebody's back yard," I said. "They acknowledge
our insolent demands, but they don't answer them." I thought a moment.
"Send this," I said. "We'll out-strut them:"