Phule sat up straight. “Do you hear it, too? I thought it was my imagination.”
“No-look, sir, it’s moving,” said Beeker, pointing. Sure enough, the ball was wobbling slightly, as if the floor below it were shaking.
They both stood, instinctively moving away from the vibrating gravball; whatever was happening, it was something new. The previous changes in their cell, when their captors had delivered food or the ball, had been accompanied by almost no noise or vibration. As they looked, the wall at the far end of the cell began to change color-or rather, its color seemed to become more diffuse, almost like paint being diluted by a colorless liquid.
After the phenomenon continued for a few moments, shapes could be seen through the wall. Phule clapped his hands and said, “I think they’re going to let us out, Beek.”
“You may be right, sir,” said Beeker. “Equally possible is that they intend to come in here and interrogate us.”
“There’s not enough room in here,” said Phule. “Well, maybe if they’re the size of Synthians…”
“Yes,” said Beeker. “They’ve done very little so far to indicate what race they are-if in fact they are any race we know.”
Phule put a hand on Beeker’s arm. “I think we’re about to find out,” he said. The opening was almost transparent now, and the shapes outside seemed to be moving closer.
To their surprise, one of the figures bent over to look through the opening and said, “Hey, Beeker! Is that you in there?”
“I know that voice!” said Phule, leaning forward. “Sushi, what are you doing here?”