Walt retreated several steps.
... green wartle rivers of Lyria; birdsong, there, in a skybranch, partly pretty orange and soft like fur pictures....
He was in Calvin's mind!
Calvin was sitting in the games space, on the floor, rolling the metal practice ball back and forth before him between his hairy hands. Forential was speaking. The confining walls of the space station were so comfortingly solid....
And Walt had a fix on it! Knew its position, its direction, its speed! He had an anchor!
Where is something? he thought wildly. Quick! A rock! Throw a rock! Something big: to throw: quick! Huge, heavy—
Forgotten, the advancing mutants. With every unit and sub unit and compartment and section of his mind, pouring out every available degree of telepathic power, dropping the shielding, concentrating above everything else, he seized the Washington Monument. It shook; it wobbled unsteadily; it wrenched free.
Calvin, delighted, was helping him.
Walt! he cried. We'll play games! We'll throw it!