"I've never looked at any of those warfare tapes myself," she said. "But I've heard about them. Do you suppose armed conflict was really that horrible?"
"Pretty rough, according to the historians. It's not the sort of thing I'd like to be mixed up in."
"And McAllister?"
"Him? He's just building up a reservoir of false courage through his viewer." Yet, in fairness to the pilot, Stewart had to admit that he, himself, felt a deep and reasonable gratitude that wars were a thing of the historic past.
Carol sighed and glanced at him. "I'm certainly glad," she said, straight-faced, "that wars are a thing of the historic past."
He seized her arm. "Carol! Do you realize you're repeating everything I'm thinking? You've gone a step beyond radio empathy! You can pull in thought waves too!"
"No-o-o, you're joking!"
"No. Honest, I—" But his words were lost in her welling laughter.
He followed her amused stare to his portable voice transmitter and the mike that still clung to his throat. And instantly he realized that his subvocalizations, being picked up and broadcast, were to her like a window opening on his thought processes.
"Why, you—" Feigning indignation, he caught her around the waist and pulled her toward him. Weightless, she drifted forward and spread out conveniently across his knees.