"Out on Long Island. I just pulled into the airport half a moment ago.
Traveled all night after dumping the ship at Nairobi."
"You made a good landing, I hope?"
"The best. The ship navigates like a bubble." McLeod frowned worriedly.
"They brought me the early-morning telefax while I was having
breakfast. I couldn't help reading all about the speech you made last
night."
"Oh. I--"
"Quite a crasher of a speech," McLeod went on evenly. "But don't you
think it was a little premature of you to release word of my flight. I
mean--"
"It was quite premature," Walton said. "A member of my staff inserted
that statement into my talk without my knowledge. He'll be disciplined
for it."
A puzzled frown appeared on McLeod's face. "But _you_ made that speech
with your own lips! How can you blame it on a member of your staff?"
"The science that can send a ship to Procyon and back within a year,"
Walton said, "can also fake a speech. But I imagine we'll be able to
cover up the pre-release without too much trouble."
"I'm not so sure of that," said McLeod. He shrugged apologetically.
"You see, that planet's there, all right. But it happens to be the
property of alien beings who live in the next world. And they're not so
happy about having Earth come crashing into their system to colonize!"
Somehow Walton managed to hang onto his self-control, even with this
staggering news crashing about him. "You've been in contact with these
beings?" he asked.