"Then follow me," the voice said.
IV
Cragin had little idea of how long they had flown, and none of the number of continua through which they had warped. They had been allowed to sleep, and upon awakening, had received food. That they were under guard was only to be sensed.
"They can afford to take us for granted," he muttered. He felt for the butts of his guns; they were still at his hips.
"Don't—" the girl said.
"Don't give it a second thought. I know when I've had it, and they know I do."
"You're convinced, then."
Cragin looked about the confines of the small metal cubicle in which they had been quartered as though trying to see through its walls for another glimpse of one of the flagship's crew. The servants of grade three were as unlike men as their cloaked captor had been similar. But not less incredible than other creatures he had seen. Only—intelligent. That, if nothing more. Cragin mused with a grimace.
"I could use a different word, kid, but it would come to the same thing. If IQ meant the social register around here, even the snottiest ancestors either of us ever had would look like only moderately successful bums. They got us where the gray matter's short. Of that I am convinced."