The next instant there was a sort of soundless snap. Before Dane's eyes, the radiance transformed itself into a glowing crystal that rose and floated in mid-air.
A Kalquoi—!
There seemed to be no pattern nor rhyme nor reason to the alien's actions. Now it hovered; now it darted. One moment it drifted close to the floor; the next, explored the ceiling.
And all the time it radiated changing shapes and colors: a glistening silver corkscrew ... the dull grey of a microreel case ... pale blue ovals that resembled nothing Dane had ever seen.
Then sound came—the muffled clang of heavy hatch-lids. At once, the Kalquoi moved to the astrogation chamber's door and poised there, apparently waiting.
A moment later the door swung open. Two other aliens joined the first.
The three pulsed and glowed together briefly. Then one detached itself from its fellows and moved in close to Dane.
Immediately, he felt himself permeated by a strange, slightly prickling sensation, as if a slight electric current were being sent through him. Warmth enveloped him. The idea of sleep took on unique appeal.
Now the alien moved towards the door once more; and to Dane's intense surprise, he found himself following, drawn along bodily through the gravitationless ship like a towed target. In a sort of roseate haze—for fear, as of the moment, seemed to have lost its meaning for him—he wondered what would happen when he was transferred to the Kalquoi globe-craft. So far as he knew, the aliens themselves had no necessity for breathing, so the odds were against there being any air supply adequate to enable a human to survive.