"Good God," he said. Realization swept over him, numbing him. He sat down on a bench, his head swimming. "Good God." The ship roared out into space leaving the moon and Terra farther behind each moment. And there was nothing he could do. * * * * * "So it was you who put the call through," he said at last. "It was you who called me on the vidphone, not any hospital on Terra. It was all part of the plan." He looked up and around him. "And Dolores is really--" "Your wife is fine," the wall speaker above him said tonelessly. "It was a fraud. I am sorry to trick you that way, Philip, but it was all I could think of. Another day and you would have been back on Terra. I don't want to remain in this area any longer than necessary. They have been so certain of finding me out in deep space that I have been able to stay here without too much danger. But even the purloined letter was found eventually." Kramer smoked his cigarette nervously. "What are you going to do? Where are we going?" "First, I want to talk to you. I have many things to discuss. I was very disappointed when you left me, along with the others. I had hoped that you would remain." The dry voice chuckled. "Remember how we used to talk in the old days, you and I? That was a long time ago." The ship was gaining speed. It plunged through space at tremendous speed, rushing through the last of the defense zone and out beyond. A rush of nausea made Kramer bend over for a moment. When he straightened up the voice from the wall went on, "I'm sorry to step it up so quickly, but we are still in danger. Another few moments and we'll be free." "How about yuk ships? Aren't they out here?" "I've already slipped away from several of them. They're quite curious about me." "Curious?" "They sense that I'm different, more like their own organic mines. They don't like it. I believe they will begin to withdraw from this area, soon. Apparently they don't want to get involved with me. They're an odd race, Philip. I would have liked to study them closely, try to learn something about them. I'm of the opinion that they use no inert material. All their equipment and instruments are alive, in some form or other. They don't construct or build at all. The idea of _making_ is foreign to them. They utilize existing forms. Even their ships--" "Where are we going?" Kramer said. "I want to know where you are taking me." "Frankly, I'm not certain." "You're not certain?" "I haven't worked some details out. There are a few vague spots in my program, still. But I think that in a short while I'll have them ironed out." "What is your program?" Kramer said. "It's really very simple. But don't you want to come into the control room and sit? The seats are much more comfortable than that metal bench." Kramer went into the control room and sat down at the control board. Looking at the useless apparatus made him feel strange. "What's the matter?" the speaker above the board rasped.