"Wait,” said Harlow. “Just wait a minute. I'm trying to understand, but you've lost me. Converter?"
"Of course, a converter. What did you think made us — me — like this?"
"I don't know,” said Harlow numbly. “Just what is ‘like this'?"
"Exactly as you see,” said Dundonald. The patch of radiance bunched up, swirled, then shifted so quickly that Harlow thought it was gone. “Matter into energy, only the ancient Vorn solved the problem of achieving the conversion without losing either intelligence or personality. The individual remains unchanged. Only his body is free of the limiting shackles of the flesh."
The patch of radiance moved toward the iron bulkhead. It glided right through the solid iron, and then came dancing back again.
"No more barriers. No more death. No wonder the Vorn lost interest in the old planet-bound life. I tell you, Mark, even in my brief term as one of them, I've seen done things — Have you any conception of what it is like to fly free as a bird between the stars, covering light-years at the flick of a thought, with no fear of anything? And not only the stars, Mark, but other galaxies. Time and distance are only words without meaning. The greatest secret ever discovered. Nothing so crude and clumsy as the transmission of matter, which would merely send you like a package from transmitter to receiver, leaving you as planetbound as ever. No, the Vorn developed a mechanism that gave them the real freedom of the universe."
The radiance danced and floated, and Kwolek and Garcia and Yrra stared at it with naked fear, and the thoughts from it kept pouring into Harlow's mind and he did not think he could take any more. It was easy enough to talk of leaving off the shackles of flesh and wearing a body of pure energy, but it was too big for his brain to grasp as yet. He said, “Dundonald."
"Yes?"
"I'm Mark Harlow, remember? I'm just a guy from Earth. You spring this on me all at once, you expect me to—” He broke off, and then he clenched his hands and made himself go on again. He said, “Listen. I'm talking to a patch of light. And I get a thought in my mind that this light-patch says it's Dundonald, a man I knew. It's hard to take. You know?"
Dundonald's thought came with a pitying quality in it. “Yes, Mark. I suppose it is."
"All right.” Harlow felt sweat damp on his forehead, but he stared straight at the misty radiance and said, “Give it to me slow, then, will you?"
"All right, Mark, I'll give it to you slow. But not too slow, please, for time is running out."
Harlow asked, “You found the world of the Vorn from the legend Brai told you about?"
"Yes."
"You found the Vorn on it?"
"No. No, Mark — the Vorn have been gone from that world for a long, long time. Ever since they found out how to change and become — like me. I found their dead cities, and I found the Converter. Not them."
"The Converter that made you this way. What made you do it, Dundonald?"
The answering thought was strong. “I had to. I had to try the thing, after I learned its secret. I went through. I was still like this — like the Vorn — when Taggart's ship came."
"Ah,” said Harlow. “And then-?"
"My men, my ship, were waiting,” Dundonald answered. “Taggart took them by surprise, easily. In the fight, three of my men were killed. He has the others locked up."
Harlow, in the anger he felt, almost forgot he was not talking to Dundonald in the flesh. He said, between his teeth, “He's very good at trick surprises, is Taggart."
"He learned,” said Dundonald, “that I was — on the other side. He has armed men watching the Converter. If I try to come back through, he'll have me."
"But what's he doing — just sitting there?” demanded Harlow.
"He's waiting, Harlow. He sent out communic messages, to someone named Frayne. Frayne, I gathered, commands another of the secret ships that the Cartel sent to find me and the Vorn. Taggart messaged him to come to the world of the Vorn, to help him take the Converter away."
The appalling picture began to come clear to Harlow. If the Cartel ships got this Converter away, the ultimate freedom of the universe would be in the hands of a group of greedy men who could exploit the greatest of all discoveries for their own power and profit.
"Oh, no,” said Harlow. “We've got to stop that. Can we reach that world before this other ship — Frayne's ship — does?"
"I don't know,” said Dundonald. “Frayne can't be too far away or he'd be out of range of communic. That's why you've got to hurry, to get there first. Yet you can't land right where Taggart is, his ship radar will spot you coming and his missiles will get you before you're even close. The only way you can get to him is through that."
And the patch of radiance became a round ball and moved to the visiscreen, touching the black outward bulge of a looming cloudcliff.
"I can guide you through it, Harlow. But you'll have to come down beyond the curve of the planet and walk the rest of the way to Lurluun — that's that old Vorn city where the Converter is. After that—"
"After that,” Harlow said, “we'll hit Taggart with everything we've got."
"Which isn't much,” Dundonald said, “if all you have are the popguns prescribed by Regulation Six. Well, they'll have to do. Change your course now, and make it fast."
Harlow, as he moved, glimpsed the strained face of Yrra gazing in awe at the floating core of radiance. He said, “Something else, Dundonald. “The girl's brother, Brai. She came after him. Is he still living?"
"He's with Taggart's prisoners — my men,” came the answering thought. “How long any of them will live if Taggart pulls this off, you can guess."
Harlow told Yrra briefly, in her own language, and saw the tears start in her eyes.
"For God's sake, will you hurry!” prodded Dundonald's thought.
Feeling very strange indeed, like a man dreaming or drunk or in partial shock, Harlow spun the Thetis around on her tail and sent her plunging toward the black cliff of dust.
He filled in Kwolek and Garcia as much as he could in a few words, and had Garcia get on the intercom to the crew. He tried not to look at the dust-cliff ahead. It was a million miles each way and it looked as solid as basalt. The green glare of the distant sun touched its edges with a poisonous light.
"Relax,” said Dundonald. “It only looks that way. I've been through it a dozen times."
"Fine,” said Harlow, “but we're still bound to our old fleshly selves, not at all impervious to floating hunks of rock."
"I'll take you through, Harlow. Don't worry."
Harlow worried.
The cliff was black and imminent before them. Instinctively Harlow raised his arm before his face, flinching as they hit. There was no impact. Only suddenly it was dark, as dark as Erebus, and the telltales on the board flopped crazily. The Thetis was blind and deaf, racing headlong through the stellar dust.
Kwolek muttered, “This is crazy. We just imagined we saw and heard—"
"Shut up,” whispered Harlow. “I can't hear—” He looked around. Panic hit him. The patch of radiance was gone. Dundonald was gone. Dundonald? How did he know it was Dundonald and not a deceitful stranger, one of the old Vorn sent to lead him to destruction? He could wander forever in this cosmic night until the ship was hulled and they died, and still they would wander forever—
"Pull your nose up,” came Dundonald's thought sharply. “Three degrees at least. What the hell, Mark! Pull it up. Now. Starboard ten degrees — forget the degrees. Keep turning until I tell you to stop. Good. Now keep her steady — there's some stuff ahead but we'll go under it. Steady—"
Harlow did as he was told, and presently he saw what he had not seen before — the misty brightness that was Dundonald's strange new being drawn thin as a filament and extending out of sight through the fabric of the ship. Harlow found time to be ashamed.