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“I am patently unable to do that,” he replied as calmly as he could manage, “since those who made it have ‘gone away.’” Almost as an afterthought he added, “Perhaps you can suggest another means or method of ascertaining the potential usefulness of this hypothetical defense?”

The last thing he expected was a response. No, that wasn't quite correct. The last thing he expected was a positive response.

GO THERE.

Being locked in cerebral stasis did not prevent Flinx from coughing slightly. “I'm afraid I don't have adequate means of transportation. Even if I did, I wouldn't live long enough to complete the journey.”

BOTH LIMITS ARE WITHIN REACH.

If he had been in full control of his body, he would have sat up. “What did you say?”

THERE EXISTS A POSSIBILITY.

“I don't understand. Can you explain?”

TO ACTIVATE THE DEFENSE, THOSE WHO MADE IT HAD TO BE ABLE TO REACH IT. THEY LEFT BEHIND THE DEFENSE. THEY LEFT BEHIND THE WARNING SYSTEM. THEY LEFT BEHIND A MEANS BY WHICH SUCH THINGS WERE LINKED.

THE DESTINATION OF THE THIRD SIGNAL.

Flinx could hardly contain his excitement. His elation communicated itself to Pip. Her coils began to contract against the top of his head, playing havoc with his red hair.

“How can we tell if this link still works?”

The Krang's response was typically terse. GO THERE.

“How is that possible?”

I CAN PROVIDE COORDINATES.

For the second time in the past several minutes Flinx found himself mentally articulating an anxious appeal. “Please provide.”

The Krang proceeded to do so. This time Flinx was able to reference the location. Not only was it nowhere near as extreme as the set that had been given for the Xunca defense, the locality lay virtually next door, within the boundaries of the Commonwealth itself.

Somewhere to go. Something to seek out. Not a solution, not an answer, but at least a bona fide destination. He fought to make his muscles work, to slide free of the platform and out from beneath the blinding, binding influence of the glowing, luminescent domes overhead. Locked to his thoughts, sensitive to his emotions, the Krang sensed his struggle.

DO YOU WISH TO TERMINATE EXCHANGE?

“Yes!” Flinx all but shouted silently. “Terminate contact now, please.”

COMPLYING.

There was a brief instant of delay, a second of disorientation, and then he felt himself starting to emerge from stasis as contact was broken. At the last possible instant of contact, something remarkable occurred. It was not that the ancient weapon/instrument offered concluding words to the exchange so much as it was the nature of that parting, which was unprecedented in Flinx's experience with both the Krang and the much larger but related weapons platform. It was, however, characteristic in its conciseness.

GOOD LUCK.

He blinked. Gazing upward, he found himself looking through twin domes that were once more untinted and perfectly transparent. He could see the distant, permanent haze that hovered near the top of the Krang. His recovering ears still rang with the dying echo of ancient alien music. Sitting up, he swung his legs off the dais and stood. When he started to stumble, he heard a voice calling out to him from a figure that was now running in his direction.

“Flinx, Flinx! Are you … ?”

“I'm fine!” he shouted back to Clarity. “Just a little shaky, but okay!” Extending an arm back to the platform he waited while Pip used it to climb up onto his shoulder. All around him the Krang was silent and still. And conscious, though he alone of his entire species had shared thoughts with that cold, primal intelligence.

Mounting the dais with long, graceful strides, she was in his arms in a moment. “Please,” she pleaded as she hugged him tight, “please don't do that anymore! I can't take watching you lie there writhing and twisting like you're in constant pain all the time. If you have to talk to someone, talk to me. Leave sentient alien weapons to themselves.” Drawing back, she met his eyes and he could see the quiet anguish in her face. “It's aging you, Flinx.