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you’re too proud. That is the great fault of heroes—the sin that often brings them low. We want you to fly high as you expose the future to us.”
    Maddox nodded in lieu of speaking. This was becoming odder by the moment.
    “Follow me,” she said, turning, heading the way she had come.
    Maddox complied, the two provost sentries moving aside to let him pass and then falling into step behind him.
    They moved through a surprisingly large hall. What kind of airship was this? He couldn’t feel any motion. The gravity ray that had pulled him up—could the Spacers have superior gravity dampeners?
    Shu halted before a hatch. She turned, stepped near Maddox and touched his left forearm. He towered over her.
    “May the Spirit guide you, Captain. I shall say a litany for you, that you guard your tongue.”
    “Thank you,” he said.
    She stepped to the left, facing the hatch. It dilated open. “Go,” she whispered.
    Maddox glanced at her, at her serious manner. He glanced at the sentries. They knelt, with their foreheads pressed against the deck.
    “You must go now,” Shu said. “Time is precious.”
    Maddox squared his shoulders and marched through the hatch into a small chamber. Behind him, the hatch closed and the chamber darkened.
    Maddox tensed.
    Immediately, a glow began at his side. The captain faced it. An old woman sat on a dais in a throne-like chair. She wore goggles and had a white polar bear fur wrapped around herself. She had wrinkled features and white hair. It occurred to Maddox that he’d never seen hair on a Spacer before. They wore skullcaps, hiding any hair.
    “Come closer,” she said in a hoarse voice.
    Maddox did so.
    “You are taller than I expected,” she said.
    He inclined his head.
    “Come, hurry,” she said. “You must kneel before me.”
    Maddox took another step closer, crossing his arms, looking down upon the old woman.
    “Are you too proud to kneel, Captain?”
    “I suppose that’s one answer,” he said. “The other might be that my cultural upbringing prohibits me from kneeling to another person.”
    “Pride,” she said, shaking her head.
    “Slaves kneel, Ma’am, not free men.”
    “Would you kneel to the Spirit?” she asked.
    “That would depend.”
    “On what?”
    “If by ‘the Spirit’ you are referring to the Creator.”
    Maddox had said a few words to Him before the gravity beam had halted his fall. The fear he’d felt had departed, but the taste of it had darkened his mood.
    “I am referring to the Creator, yes,” the Visionary said.
    “I would kneel to Him,” Maddox answered.
    “Hmm, perhaps there is hope for you, Captain. Do you know why you are here?”
    “I haven’t a clue.”
    “You are di-far . We knew this after you defeated the alien Destroyer. Since then you have seen a Builder, returning to Earth with its children, the Kai-Kaus. They have brought technological gifts to the Commonwealth. Yes, you are di-far , perhaps the greatest of the human race.”
    “I see,” Maddox said.             
    “No. You do not see. I do, though. I am the Visionary. I can peer into the future when the conditions are right.”
    “Like now?” he asked.
    “This is the worst moment of all. Even as we speak, your people have launched interceptors that race here. We have but moments left together. Then, we must vanish from Earth.”
    “You can do that?”
    “We can do many things you Earthbound cannot fathom.”
    “Why is this?”
    “I do not have time to explain. Now, attend me.  Di-far has many meanings. The critical one concerning you is ‘knot of decision.’”
    “That doesn’t help me to understand,” Maddox said.
    “Sometimes a person arises who brings about great changes. It is a mistaken belief to think that this person causes the changes through his own strength. That is clearly not the case.”
    “Of course not,” Maddox said.
    “Captain, I believe the Provost Marshal spoke to you about decorum.”
    “She did.”
    “I am an old