"Where are we going? Who's steering this thing?" "It steers itself, I would judge," Foster said. "I don't know where we're going, but we're well on the way. There's no doubting that." I looked at him in amazement. "You like this, don't you, Foster? You're having the time of your life." "I can't deny that I'm delighted at this turn of events," Foster said. "Don't you see? This vessel is a launch, or lifeboat, under automatic control. And it's taking us to the mother ship." "Okay, Foster," I said. "I'm with you." I looked at the skeleton on the floor behind him, and added; "But I sure hope we have better luck than the last passenger." CHAPTER VII It was two hours later, and Foster and I stood silent before a ten-foot screen that had glowed into life when I touched a silver button beside it. It showed us a vast emptiness of bottomless black, set thick with corruscating points of polychrome brilliance that hurt to look at. And against that backdrop: a ship, vast beyond imagining, blotting out half the titanic vista with its bulk-- But dead. Even from the distance of miles, I could sense it. The great black torpedo shape, dull moonlight glinting along the unbelievable length of its sleek flank, drifted: a derelict. I wondered for how many centuries it had waited here--and for what? "I feel," said Foster, "somehow--I'm coming home." I tried to say something, croaked, cleared my throat. "If this is your jitney," I said, "I hope they didn't leave the meter ticking on you. We're broke." "We're closing rapidly," said Foster. "Another ten minutes, I'd guess...." "How do we go about heaving to, alongside? You didn't come across a book of instructions, did you?" "I think I can predict that the approach will be automatic." "This is your big moment, isn't it?" I said. "I've got to hand it to you, pal; you've won out by pluck." The ship appeared to move smoothly closer, looming over us, fine golden lines of decorative filigree work visible now against the black. A tiny square of pale light appeared, grew into a huge bay door that swallowed us. The screen went dark, there was a gentle jar, then motionlessness. The port opened, silently. "We've arrived," Foster said. "Shall we step out and have a look?" "I wouldn't think of going back without one," I said. I followed him out and stopped dead, gaping. I had expected an empty hold, bare metal walls. Instead. I found a vaulted cavern, shadowed, mysterious, rich with a thousand colors. There was a hint of strange perfume in the air, and I heard low music that muttered among stalagmite-like buttresses. There were pools, playing fountains, waterfalls, dim vistas stretching away, lit by slanting rays of muted sunlight. "What kind of place is it?" I asked. "It's like a fairyland, or a dream." "It's not an earthly scheme of decoration," Foster said, "but I find it strangely pleasing." * * * * *