Bill squirmed. "Well," he protested, "Is was just cold. We imagined she was scared. Just like I imagined it was Unk. My guilty conscience. And you weren't feeling so good in the first place. Nice setup for a fancy group hallucination."
Molly was pressing a house-dress energetically and just smiled at him. Bill muttered about the obstinacy of the female mind and ladled out a generous helping of artificial dog food he'd synthetized from the matter-converter. Is stuck her pink tongue greedily into the mess.
Was looked idly on. Not having any unborn pups to feed, Was wasn't hungry. But suddenly Was looked up at Bill and barked once, sharply. At the same time, Is's beautiful dark eyes became anxious. She started to shiver. She cowered. Bill blanched. He scooped up Is, holding her against his chest. Molly stopped ironing.
"What is it, Bill?"
"Don't get scared," he chattered. "It's coming back. The dogs heard it. Maybe they're tuned a little higher than we are. Honey, it wasn't imagination. HERE IT COMES!"
It came. A blatting, vocalized anger that trembled the ship. Molly was somehow in Bill's arms, Is for once forgotten. And the Voice came clear, the angry, peevish muttering of an old man.
"Stupid bits of living matter. Eons have I tried to reach their low thinking level. They are incapable of responding. Best to destroy them."
"Bill! Answer him!"
Bill ran his tongue around the inside of his parched mouth. "Uh—" he said. "Wait a minute, Unk. I mean Voice. We hear you."
The Voice, who most assuredly could not be Unk, went wild. It skittered, it slid, it throbbed with unholy excitement. Then it came back, roaring, "Why did you not answer me, insignificant creatures?"