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"Run the transcript by again." David Anderson, an ambassador representing humanity's Western Bloc, spoke, still not believing what he had heard, even as the wireless mind-impulse unit transferred the context as his circuit laden hands brushed across a data terminal. "Cut out the translation; give me the raw audio. Magnify resolution as far as it goes." He spoke again, more out of habit than necessity. And there it is, a spoken language, with tone and timbre indistinguishable from what would come from a baseline human's vocal cord. And the language! 'Was that German? Smatterings of French, what sounds like fragments of Latin and Pacific-Islander linguogroups...is this some kind of elaborate joke? Some truly clandestine operation?' Anderson began to ponder to himself, and turned himself to another fellow ambassador, a fifth-generation hybrid, Beratac ulh Solval, and the only psionic individual on the diplomatic cruiser, and the one he knew the most. "Berat, mind greasing up...you know, the process a little?". Beratac simply looked passively, though a look of realization passed near imperceptibly through his face. He pressed his hands onto a closed viewing port and went into a trance.