I stared at the glowing panel he was pointing to—a duplicate of the one in the underground chamber. It showed a curved white line, with a red point ascending from it.
"We're clear," Foster said. "We've made a successful take-off."
"But we can't be moving—there's no acceleration. There must be soundproofing—that's why we can't hear the bombers—"
"No soundproofing would help if we were at ground zero," Foster said. "This ship is the product of an advanced science. We've left the bombers far behind."
"Where are we going? Who's steering this thing?"
"It steers itself, I would judge," Foster said. "I don't know where we're going, but we're well on the way."
I looked at him in amazement. "You like this, don't you, Foster? You're having the time of your life."
"I can't deny that I'm delighted at this turn of events," Foster said. "Don't you see? This vessel is a launch, or lifeboat, under automatic control. And it's taking us to the mother ship."
"Okay, Foster," I said. I looked at the skeleton on the floor behind him. "But I hope we have better luck than the last passenger."