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Nothing.

No response of any kind was forthcoming. There was no splendid display of coruscating light, no thundering blare of alien music. Whatever kind of artifact was currently cuddling him, it bore no operational relationship to a Krang contact. The same silence that had greeted him when first he had lain down within the smooth-sided concavity still echoed in his ears. Extending himself through his Talent he could perceive Clarity and the others on board the Teacher, so he was confident his facility was functioning. But there was nothing else to be perceived. Nothing more.

Yet there had to be something more. Else why the entrée tunnel, why the enclosing protective sphere, why the hovering relic?

Try again, he told himself. Go to sleep. You can do that, can't you? It's peaceful, it's comforting. You're exhausted anyway. Why not have a nice nap? The worst thing that will happen is that you'll wake up, the universe will be exactly as you left it, but you'll be rested and refreshed. Is that not an end greatly to be desired in and of itself?

Why shouldn't he? he mused. Nothing else was happening. Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex would chide him for squandering an opportunity, but Clarity would understand completely. Once again he closed his eyes against the all-pervading white space.

So quiet. So still. He felt himself go limp as he let go for the first time in days. So much accomplished and learned, perhaps to no avail. His time to sleep, to take a mental break, was past due. He had earned the right.

A shock ran through his entire system as if a mischievous interloper had suddenly pressed one of his toes against a power transmission plate.

He and Pip were no longer alone.

On board the Teacher, Clarity gasped as she pointed out the foreport. “Look. Oh, look.”

The hemisphere in which Flinx had stretched out had become a solid sphere that glowed like a ruby lit from within. From the newly formed orb the crimson radiance extended outward perhaps ten meters in all directions. The artifact's original translucency had given way to opacity and he was no longer visible.

Pressure on her right arm caused her to look over and down. Sylzenzuzex was standing beside her, her left truhand and foothand gripping the soft flesh of the taller human. The thranx could not smile—but Clarity sensed that the security officer was doing so, even if only internally.

“You don't have to watch this.” Sylzenzuzex's tone was somber. “Something is happening. Knowing Flinx, something more is likely to. Whatever the outcome, good or bad, you watching will not alter it.”

Clarity considered a moment, then nodded appreciatively. “I'm going back to the cabin. Our cabin. You can tell me when everything is—over.”

Antennae bobbed and a truhand gestured understanding. “If you would like some company, I'll come with you. At awkward times and in difficult circumstances my kind always prefer to have others nearby. It's what comes of subterranean living in close quarters.”

Clarity nodded understandingly. “My kind didn't evolve underground, but I'd be glad of your company, Syl.” Heading for the master's cabin, the pair abandoned the control chamber to Truzenzuzex and Tse-Mallory. So immersed in what they were seeing were the two scientists that they didn't even notice their companions' departure.

No longer alone, a startled Flinx realized. Furthermore, the entity identified inside his mind had a familiar feel to it.

IT IS GOOD TO BE WITH YOU AGAIN, FLINX-MAN, the voice in his dreaming declared. IT IS WELL THAT THIS TIME HAS FINALLY COME.

“I know you,” Flinx found himself thinking. “You've been with me before. Several times you helped push me out to perceive the danger that threatens us all.”

US ALL, the voice concurred. WE ARE COUSINS, YOUR KIND AND MINE. WE CANNOT REACH OUT AS YOU CAN—BUT WE CAN PUSH. WE CAN BOOST. THAT WE HAVE DONE.

“Who are you?” he inquired, not for the first time but more adamantly than ever before.

An image took shape in the theater of his mind. A picture of a world of few humans but of