"If somebody with tentacles starts down that ladder," I said, in an unnaturally shrill voice, "I'm getting out of here."
"No one will emerge," Foster said quietly. "I think we'll find, Legion, that this ship of space is at our disposal."
"I'm not going aboard that thing," I said for the fifth time. "I'm not sure of much in this world, but I'm sure of that."
"Legion," Foster said, "This is no twentieth century military vessel. It obviously homed on the transmitter in the underground station, which appears to be directly under the old monument—which is several thousand years old——"
"And I'm supposed to believe the ship has been orbiting the earth for the last few thousand years, waiting for someone to push the red button? You call that logical?"
"Given permanent materials, such as those the notebook is made of, it's not impossible—or even difficult."
"We got out of the tunnel alive. Let's settle for that."
"We're on the verge of solving a mystery that goes back through the centuries," said Foster, "a mystery that I've pursued, if I understand the journal, through many lifetimes——"
"One thing about losing your memory: you don't have any fixed ideas to get in the way of your theories."