"Who are you?" Langford heard himself asking.
"A traveler blown from his course by ill cosmic winds!" the voice said. "A lone and bewildered stranger from a universe so remote its light has not yet reached you. A genuinely frightened stranger and—a telepath, Langford."
The voice paused, then went on. "I made you come to me just now. A promise of medals could not have done it, but I got inside your mind, and drew you to me. Medals, rewards, promotions; you prize them, don't you? What a pity that I cannot stay until your tunic gleams with ribbons."
Another pause. Then the voice said: "It is difficult to get the intimate feel of your language. You must forgive me if my speech seems a little strained."
"Your speech. You—"
"You're not afraid of me, Langford? No, you mustn't be; you are the kindest of men. How can I convince you that I am—you have a phrase for it—letting down my hair? I shall leave you soon, my friend. I have repaired my ship, and I must try to return to my own people. But before I go I will tell you the truth."
Another pause while the brightness pulsed. "You could have destroyed my ship when we met in the Asteroid Belt with a single blast; but you refused to do so. And I, not knowing you as I do now, tried to frighten you. There are so many worlds where intelligent life is cold and merciless that I was prepared for any emergency. I am rather proud of that little multiplying creature I shot out into the void. It was a child's bauble in my world, Langford—a toy!
"I am alone, my friend. Alone in a ship that utterly dwarfs me. But you like large ships, too; we're curiously alike in some respects. We'd never be satisfied with mechanical mastery on a puny scale!"
"Mechanical mastery?" Langford's lips had gone cold. "Just what kind of mastery? Why did you attack Commander Gurney and his men?"