Grey accepted another glass gratefully from Elby Jones.
"Sure," he said. "I don't talk to anybody, anyway. But you have to tell me. How much can you do?"
Joe considered for a moment before replying.
"I don't know, really. Terran nervous systems are not like ours. We have had only a short time to discover what we can do and what we can't do. We don't have real control—although there are certain possibilities with a modified hypnotic suggestion. At present we are only able to introduce resistances temporarily in certain nerve paths, so that inhibitions are produced."
"So for a while I was just inhibited against standing up, and they were inhibited against being conscious. It that it?"
"Approximately."
Grey sipped from his glass, peering over the edge of it at Joe. Precisely how much was there, he thought, hidden within the recesses of that brain? Just how much did this innocent little character have on the ball?
Joe chose this moment to become taciturn. The music was riding once more, and the place was settling down after the sudden disturbance. It took Jed Grey several more minutes and another glass to throw off the nervous tension which sat like a blanket over his shoulders. Gradually he began to relax, and the warm spot within his belly proceeded to creep up into his head.
"Tomorrow," he thought drowsily, "we will be taking off, and there will be no more of this. No more music except from cans. No more...."