Chick reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled
him back.
"Pardon me, my lord!" he exclaimed. "But you must not touch it!
You--even you, would be annihilated!" Then to the Lucar: "Very
well."
Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a
lever, perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull
red.
"Now you may touch it," said the Geos.
But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
"All very interesting, but where is your machinery?"
The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. "You must give
us a little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we
have passed beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey
pellet is, of course, our motive force; it is a highly refined
mineral, which we mine in vast quantity. It has been in use for
centuries. As for the hair-like web, that is our idea of a
transmission."
Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt.
The other continued:
"In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as
possible. We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and
instead tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the
birds and insects. We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is
intrinsic. In some respects, we have improved upon life.
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