Space Dungeon D

Ch. 3

Christ, thought Dirk, the telepaths! The first voice—the calming, deep one that felt as if it were coming from inside his own head—said that the ship was alright. Then so would the psy unit—for now.

"You're right," Dirk said, "I almost forgot. My crew!"

"You had a crew?"

"A psy unit. Don't you know? Psychics for navigation. All ships have them."

"Sorry—you're right—I've just been stuck in here a while."

Dirk didn't quite believe him. He was telling the truth but leaving something out at the same time. Still, it was best to continue playing along, at least until he figured out more about what was going on. He had a sudden impulse to speak. "Hey you," he said, loudly; he didn't press the button on the intercom; this was directed toward the other voice. "What about my crew? Are they okay?"

There was no response. He tried again, "Hello? My crew. Are they alright?"

"Your crew will be fine," the voice said, after some time.

"Okay. Then let me talk to them."

"I'm afraid that is not possible."

Dirk tried to ask him why—they were telepathic, after all, but he got no response. He pounded on the plastic wall, then took a deep breath. He pressed the intercom button.

"Now it's time for me to ask you a question," he said, acidly. "How did you know I was about to shoot the window?"

"What do you mean?" Joe said.

"You had to have been able to see me in order to know that I was going to shoot the gun. How else could you have known?"

"You mean you don't have a screen in your room?"

"A screen? No," he said, incredulously, "what are you talking about?"

"I can see you on the monitor in my room—or, cell, I suppose. You're saying you don't have one?"

"No, I don't have  one!" What they hell was going on, he thought. Who was this guy?

"That's odd."

Dirk sat down once again and continued to think. If Joe could see him on a monitor, there must be a camera somewhere in here. Dirk asked joe about the angle of the shot. From what he could tell, the camera must be somewhere in the back-right corner of the cell, when facing the window.

"I don't see anything. There's no camera."

"It must be small. Like a spy camera," Joe said. "Keep looking."

About two-thirds the way up the right wall in the back corner, he finally found it: a grass circle, about the size of the tip of a ball-point pen.

"Found it," he said.

"Now what?"

"Now I can hide from you."

"Hide from me?" Joe said. "Why would you need to do that?"

"For privacy," Dirk said. "I'm only kidding. But I do wonder. . . ."

He slid his finger over the smooth lens, felt the slight change of texture as his finger slid from plastic to glass to plastic again. He then pressed down hard on the lens and waited. Nothing happened. He walked back to the intercom.

"Well, I'm out of ideas."

"Ideas for what?"

"For escaping! What else?"