She was intelligent. But she was not used to obeying orders instantly and without question "Kirk, what—"
He grabbed the blanket out of her hands and started wrapping it many times around her head, speaking in a whisper as he did so.
"Out there. Someone. If they want to be quiet about it, they're sure to use a sonic knockout-beam. Hurry—"
He pulled her to the floor. The blanket swathed her head. He wrapped the other one around his own head, fold after fold. They lay, tense, waiting.
Nothing happened.
He thought how foolish they would look, lying on the floor with their heads swathed, if nothing at all did happen.
He still did not move. He waited.
A series of small sounds began in the back of the house, just vaguely audible through the blanket-folds. A chattering of windows, creaking and rattling of beams, clink of dishes.
The sounds came slowly through the house toward them. Chatter, rattle—leisurely advancing. He knew then he'd guessed right. The sonic beam itself was pitched too low to hear. But it was sweeping the house.