A moment later it was a bright blue bottle; then a cerise cube; then once again a crystal, orange and golden.
And all the time, the turmoil in Dane's brain continued ... a chaotic, inarticulate fumbling, based on some point of confusion between the two names, John and Clark.
But despite the pain, Dane hardly noticed the groping and the searching. He had mind only for the colored light and changing shape of the weird crystal that hovered before him.
For there was only one thing it could be: a Kalquoi, one of those dreaded alien invaders who'd long since usurped the outer planets, beyond the asteroid belt.
Now it was here, on this ship, headed straight for Mars!
And there was nothing he could do about it.
As if to emphasize the point, the amoeboid monster in whose grip he lay pushed a new pseudopod down upon Dane's head and face. Oozing, enveloping, smothering, it pressed into every pore and orifice.
Dane gasped for breath that would not come. Choking, jerking, convulsing, he struggled against the mucilaginous mass that held him.
It was like fighting quicksand. The creature would not let him go. Fire raced through Dane's lungs. Black fog rose, clouding his consciousness. He forgot who he was, and where he was, and even the pulsing pain of the Kalquoi's sentient probings.
Slowly, then faster and faster, he began to fall ... to fall....