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else recognizable as a light source. There was only the smooth metal, his companions, and their three enigmatic, silent captors.
    "They're undoubtedly taking us to that city," he ventured aloud, as the faintest hint of motion jarred the craft. "If we could manage to communicate with some of their leaders . . ."
    "They don't seem very interested in communication with us," McCoy noted curtly, staring down at the dull gray back of his alien. "That's assuming they're capable of interspecies communication at all."
    "I'd tend to think like that, too, Bones," agreed Kirk, "except every now and then I seem to feel something knocking about the inside of my mind, something that won't stay still long enough for me to fix on it. Like daydreaming. When we reach the city—"
    He broke off as the oval portal drew aside with unexpected speed. Their hosts slid through the opening, still showing no strain from their bipedal burdens. At no time, Kirk marveled, had they let their load down to rest.
    "We're . . . we're already here?" wondered McCoy, staring in all directions. Spock's amazement was still directed at their means of transportation.
    "Remarkable. I experienced none of the sensations of traveling at high speed, yet we have obviously been carried at tremendous velocity. I would very much like a look at the mechanisms involved."
    Kirk wasn't listening. His gaze was reserved for the big chamber in which they now found themselves. The vaulted room appeared to be divided into doorless compartments dominated by intricate yet massive machinery. Occasionally, complex structures of metal overhead bathed them in intermittent washes of multicolored light.
    A short . . . walk, crawl? He couldn't say, but by some means they entered one such side compartment. The powerful tail-hands dipped, and Kirk, Spock, and McCoy found themselves deposited gently on the ground with as much care as they had been picked up.
    That was the one comforting aspect of this entire episode so far. Throughout the entire journey and despite their apparent indifference, the slug-creatures had taken pains to avoid even bruising any of their captives. Nor had they made anything resembling an overtly hostile gesture.
    "Any ideas, Doctor?"
    "Only one, Jim," replied McCoy, studying their uninspiring, pale-walled alcove, "and it's not very appealing. I'd guess they're doing exactly what we would do in a similar set of circumstances."
    "Which is?"
    "Well," he continued, as Spock knelt to examine the half-metal, half-porcelain surface they stood on, "if we encountered an alien creature we'd never seen before on a Federation world, one which science records made no mention of, the first thing we'd do is make sure it was free of harmful bacteria, germs, and other assorted little surprises.
    "I wouldn't be surprised if those colored beams we passed through had something to do with insuring our hosts' health. That accomplished, we'd next proceed to see if our visitor were intelligent."
    "Congratulations, Doctor," Spock said, looking up from his study of the floor. "All most logical assumptions."
    "I told you you should drop by the medical lab sometime."
    "A more important question, gentlemen," Kirk interrupted, "is whether or not there's a way out of here." He pointed. "As you can see, we've been left alone."
    Indeed, there was no sign of their captors. The vast floor of the chamber was deserted.
    "Gone off to report our appearance, maybe," Kirk suggested. He started toward the exit and was brought up short by a half-anticipated barrier. The sensation was akin to that of running into a giant sponge.
    Reaching out, he slowly tested the apparently normal air before them. It wasn't hard and unyielding as some such barriers were. Instead, he could push into it; but resistance grew stronger and stronger until further progress grew impossible. At that point, exerting additional strength merely caused his probing fingers to slide off in various directions, as though he were pressing on