She sighed, but made no move to get up or break physical contact from him. "He said it took practice. Like learning to fly. And that it was just as dangerous. Do you think maybe he really
"Well, it ain't like we got a computer with a roster handy," Cross noted. "Still and all, mind-rotting rocks I can see, but mind-reading radio rocks, well, I got to say you'd hav'ta show me."
"Well," Nagel said, "remember that horrible night when those rocks took us over? I can't help remembering that when those of us who survived, one way or the other, compared notes we found we all had the same nightmares. Pretty strange alien nightmares, too. Ones I never got out of my head, and I don't think you two ever got out of yours. Suppose we were actually seeing something real? Some real places, real events? Something so horrible, so traumatic, it stuck in the minds of the entire alien race that created these things, assuming that they are artifacts, not natural. Maybe, just maybe, our minds don't work like theirs so we don't process the information right, but it's nonetheless real. If these things could in fact be controlled… Think of it! Two-way telepathic broadcasting! And they-the Holy Joes up on Balshazzar-they've been stuck there a lot longer than we've been stuck here, and with more contact with other alien species who might have been there longer. It's possible. It just could be…"
"Then you think-maybe… I wasn't losing my mind?"
He gave a wan smile and shrugged. "You might well have been at the brink of insanity and
"Or it may just drive us all nuts like Li," Cross noted.
"If it isn't real, what's the difference?" Randi asked her. "And if it is, and even one of us manages it even if the price might be madness for others, then to me it's more than worthwhile. I'm scared to death, and all I want to do is run and hide and sleep for a year," she added. "And yet, tomorrow, I'm going to try it again."
II: TASK FORCE ELEVEN
The fugitive ship had been hovering just inside a deep rift valley on the dark side of the barren planet with all systems powered down to minimum. It was in fact an impressive feat of flying. The ship was half the size of a destroyer but not engineered for those kind of maneuvers; to set it into a planet so that it hovered only meters above the surface and merged in most sensors with the surrounding rough landscape was not only skillful but also far beyond what such a ship should have been able to do. Whoever modified and maintained the old hulk knew what they were doing, and that in itself made them of great interest to the naval commanders supervising this operation. To take a ship designed essentially for commercial exploration and turn it into a formidable clipper was a skill worth pursuing.
"Uh, negative, Agrippa. We'll flush him out and send him to you if that's your desire."
There was a sigh from the larger vessel's operations commander. "Well, we're made, so he's not gonna run for home until and unless he's positive we missed him, so we might as well take him and get the information the hard way. Go for flush."
The leader nodded reflexively. "Flight, spread out, and be careful. You remember the last one. We don't want this thing flipping out and gunning itself full throttle into the star. First squadron, pull around and put yourselves between quarry and inbound. Keep position and do not vary unless quarry moves clearly away. At all times keep between quarry and star. Got that, Alpha leader?"