"Study the probe for yourself," the assistant invited.
Hatcher studied him frostily; his patience was not, after all, endless. "No matter," he said at last. "Bring the other one in."
And then, in a completely different mood, "We may need him badly. We may be in the process of killing our first one now."
"Killing him, Hatcher?"
Hatcher rose and shook himself, his mindless members floating away like puppies dislodged from suck. "Council's orders," he said. "We've got to go into Stage Two of the project at once."
III
Before Stage Two began, or before Herrell McCray realized it had begun, he had an inspiration.
The dark was absolute, but he remembered where the spacesuit had been and groped his way to it and, yes, it had what all spacesuits had to have. It had a light. He found the toggle that turned it on and pressed it.
Light. White, flaring, Earthly light, that showed everything—even himself.