Numbly, Dane tried to force his aching brain to function. If only he could find the concepts—!
He verbalized it, spoke aloud in hope that meaning would somehow come through: "Yes, yes. Man wants peace as you do. He'll go half-way and more—"
The arc of Kalquoi pulsed approval. All but one.
The others' glow slowly faded.
Instantly, like a bomb bursting, the lone dissenter flared emerald and purple, a radiance so brilliant that Dane reeled back, near-blinded.
His brain reeled, too. For such was the burst of energy the Kalquoi spewed into it that flame seemed to sear at every cell. Dane screamed aloud, writhing in torment.
The flame snuffed out. The pain ebbed slowly. But a message stayed, fire-written: If all men want peace as you say, why have the others scorned us? Why are you the only one to open your brain to us?
Dane groped. "The others—? What others?"
But no coherent answer reached him; only a jumble of fragments and half-impressions. He sensed that the Kalquoi were arguing among themselves while he stood by, forgotten.
As if to prove him correct, his guards now goaded him back to his earlier post to the right of the Sandoz Shaft. Simultaneously, the other group of guards moved Nelva forward to the spot in front of the shining needle where Dane himself had stood.