Barlennan worked an arm under the flap, groped around until he found the hole, and inserted his pincer. There was no moving part, such as a switch or button, inside, but that did not bother him — he had never encountered such devices any more than he had met thermal, photonic, or capacity-activated relays. He knew from experience that the fact of putting anything opaque into that hole was somehow made known to the Flyer, and he knew that there was no point whatever in his attempting to figure out how it was done. It would be, he sometimes reflected ruefully, something like teaching navigation to a ten-day-old child. The intelligence might be there — it was comforting to think so, anyway — but some years of background experience were lacking.

„Charles Lackland here.” The machine spoke abruptly, cutting the train of thought. „That you, Barl?”

„This is Barlennan, Charles.” The commander spoke the Flyer’s language, in which he was gradually becoming proficient.

„Good to hear from you. Were we right about this little breeze?”

„It came at the time you predicted. Just a moment — yes, there is snow with it. I had not noticed. I see no dust as yet, however.”

„It will come. That volcano must have fed ten cubic miles of it into the air, and it’s been spreading for days.”

Barlennan made no direct reply to this. The volcano in question was still a point of contention between them, since it was located in a part of Mesklin which, according to Barlennan’s geographical background, did not exist.

„What I really wondered about, Charles, was how long this blow was going to last. I understand your people can see it from above, and should know how big it is.”