special in any way, although they were rather blurry for some reason.
I staggered and almost fell. The ship's rotation did not seem as smooth as it should be.
"The radio," Danny said, and Metchnikov, frowning, looked up and saw the light.
"Turn it on," I cried. The voice I heard might be Klara's.
NavlnstGdSup 104
Please supplement your Navigation Instruction Guide as follows:
Course settings containing the lines and colors as shown in the attached chart appear to have a definite relation to the amount of fuel or other propulsion necessity remaining for use by the vessel.
All prospectors are cautioned that the three bright lines in the orange (Chart 2) appear to indicate extreme shortage. No vessel displaying them in its course has ever returned, even from check flights.
Metchnikov, still frowning, reached for the switch, and then I noticed that the helix was a brighter gold than I had ever seen it: straw-colored, as though it were incandescently hot. No heat from it, but the golden color was shot through with streaks of white.
"That's funny," I said, pointing.
I don't know if anyone heard me; the radio was pouring static, and inside the capsule the sound was very loud. Metchnikov grabbed for the tuning and the gain. Over the static I heard a voice I didn't recognize at first. It was Danny A.'s. "Do you feel that?" he yelled. "It's gravity! We're in trouble. Stop the scan!"
I stopped it reflexively.
But by then the ship's screen had turned and something came into view that was not a star and not a galaxy. It was a dim mass of pale-blue light, mottled, immense, and terrifying at the first glimpse. I knew it was not a sun. No sun can be so big and so dim. It hurt the eyes to look at it, not because of brightness. It hurt inside the eyes, up far into the optic nerve. The pain was in the brain itself.
Metchnikov switched off the radio, and in the silence that followed I heard Danny A. say prayerfully, "Dearest God, we've had it. That thing is a black hole."
Chapter 29
"With your permission, Rob," says Sigfrid, "I'd like to explore something with you before you command me into my passive play mode."
I tighten up; the son of a bitch has read my mind. "I observe," he says instantly, "that you are feeling some apprehension. That is what I would like to explore."
Incredible, I feel myself trying to save his feelings. Sometimes I forget he's a machine. "I didn't know you were aware that I'd been doing that," I apologize.
"Of course I'm aware, Rob. When you have given me the proper command I obey it, but you have not ever given me the command to refrain from recording and integrating data. I assume you do not possess that command."
"You assume good, Sigfrid."
"There is no reason that you should not have access to whatever information I possess. I have not attempted to interfere before now—"
"Could you?"
"I do have the capacity to signal the use of the command construction to higher authority, yes. I have not done that."
"Why not?" The old bag of bolts keeps on surprising me; all this is new to me.
"As I have said, there is no reason to. But clearly you are attempting to postpone some sort of confrontation, and I would like to tell you what I think that confrontation involves. Then you can make your own decision."
"Oh, cripes." I throw off the straps and sit up. "Do you mind if I smoke?" I know what the answer is going to be, but he surprises me again.
"Under the circumstances, no. If you feel the need of a tension reducer I agree. I had even considered offering you a mild tranquilizer if you wish it."
"Jesus," I say admiringly, lighting up — and I actually have to stop myself from offering him one! "All right, let's have it."
Sigfrid gets up, stretches his legs, and crosses to a more comfortable chair! I hadn't known he could do that, either. "I am trying to put you at your ease, Rob," he says, "as I am sure you observe. First let me tell you something about my capacities — and yours — which I do not think you know. I can provide information about any of my clients. That is, you are not limited to those who have had access to this particular terminal."
"I don't think I understand that," I say, after he has paused for a moment.
"I think you do. Or will. When you want to. However, the