“You sure we don’t have anything to—”
“Weapons? Yeah. We have a pistol and three small nitro paks in a locker some place. You couldn’t even blow your way inside one of those ships. And if you could, you’d spend two weeks and then blow yourself to hell before you’d know anything about the armament.”
“O.K., let’s land and look around. Go get Arnold.”
They cut off the sleds and plunged down, landing between two of the ships. Before putting on suits, Banner sent Arnold to the locker to get the three nitro paks. He hoped it would help him overcome the terrible feeling of nakedness and impotence.
They spent only a little time out of the ship. There was nothing to see that hadn’t been seen before, and the heavy artificial gravity generated by the alien ships—coupled with a maze of deep crevices—made walking difficult and dangerous.
Back in the control cabin, Banner turned to Harcraft, “Any ideas?”
“Ideas? You mean for saving Homo sapiens? I’m afraid not. I simply do not feel up to saving six billion sentient organisms today. I feel—”
“You’re getting hysterical,” said Banner, whose own tight, small voice was barely audible.
“I got an opinion,” said Arnold. “You guys stop crying for a minute and I’ll tell you.”