“Sunk from sight,” were Gunnar’s words, and this explained the disappearance as well as anything. It was as though they had been on a boat and the thing had dived overboard.
Nea, who had been trained to scientific thinking since she was knee-high, had to think up an answer. Her explanation was that it had slid down a plane into three-dimensional space. Even now, it might be on some planet, puzzling and worrying the natives. For the Kalis were almost like living things—and almost like gods.
That was like Nea, Odin thought. A scientist, always. Anything unexplainable must be immediately attached to a theory—whether the theory were right or wrong. Just as long as there was an explanation to hang upon a phenomenon she was happy enough. She might blithely think up a new theory tomorrow and throw the old one away, but that was of no consequence. Odin had grown skeptical of such thinking when he was a medical student. Each doctor had his own pet diagnosis—and too many tried to fit the patient to the cure instead of working out a cure for the patient. Oh, well, that was far away and long ago.
How far away and how long ago!
Meanwhile, the red sun and its planet were looming large upon the screen. The shining light that was the Old Ship was crawling nearer to them. Twice Grim Hagen had hurled sheets of flame at them. And once he contacted The Nebula on the speaker—and cursed everyone fluently in three languages. He assured them that he now had a fighting crew and would soon join up with others. He had a dozen new weapons. So why didn’t they simply get lost?
Sleep after sleep went by and still the two ships crawled toward that last port on the edge of space.
Until, finally, they saw the Old Ship leave Trans-Space and glide down to the huge planet. And with a last burst of speed, Ato came in behind it.