“Please do not attempt to use the touch-screen controls. That function is now deactivated.”

Fandarel pulled his hands back like a small boy caught reaching for bubbly pies. The slanting board, which had been glowing amber, went dark again. Jancis had gingerly settled on one of the stools, rolling her eyes around the room and trying not to look at the screen.

“What’s happening down there?” Breide called.

“A modification of the language program has been necessary,” Piemur called back. “Master Fandarel has it all well in hand, Breide.”

“Four persons are observed to occupy this room, but only three voices have been registered. Will the fourth person speak?”

Jancis looked around apprehensively. “Me?”

“You are requested to speak a full sentence.”

“Go on, Jancis,” Piemur urged. “I don’t think it will bite you, and a feminine voice will give it a new perspective on life here.”

“But I haven’t the faintest idea what one says to…a disembodied voice.”

“Any speech will suffice. The difference in resonance and timbre has been noted. To assist the program, question: You are a female person.”

“Yes, she is a female person,” Piemur repeated.

“The female person is asked to answer for a voiceprint reading.”

Jancis burst out laughing at the surprise on Piemur’s face, for the reproof, despite the uninflected tone, was unmistakable.

“You should see your face, Piemur.”

“Well, at least you can laugh about it,” Piemur said. “Thank you…sir, whatever. How should you be addressed?”

“This is an artificial intelligence voice address system. It does not require personification.”

“Does artificial mean man-made?” Robinton asked.

“That is correct.”

“The men who built the Dawn Sisters?”

“Reference to Dawn Sisters is unknown. Please explain.”

“The three metallic objects in the sky overhead are known as the Dawn Sisters.”

“You refer to the spaceships Yokohama, Buenos Aires, and Bahrain.”

“Spaceships?” Fandarel asked, turning to stare at the panel with its green blinking legend.

“Spaceships, life-supported vehicles that travel in the vacuum inaccurately referred to as ‘space.’ ”

“Do the spaceships still support life?” Fandarel’s eyes were wide, his usually expressionless face betraying a passionate avidity that surprised even Robinton.

“Not at the present reading. All systems are on hold. Bridge pressure is .001 standard atmosphere, or 0.1 KP. Interior temperature reads minus twenty-five degrees Celsius.”

“I don’t know what it’s talking about,” Fandarel said, collapsing onto the other stool, his face a study of terrible disappointment.

“Hey!” Jaxom came running down the hall. “No, that’s all right, Breide, I’ll just go right in. I’m expected.” He entered the room, slightly breathless. “I thought you’d wait for me, Piemur. Excuse me, Master Fandarel, Master Robinton. What is this?” He began to assimilate the oddities of the room, the lights, the ventilation, and the expressions of his friends.

“This is an artificial intelligence voice address system…”

“Here we go again,” Piemur said irreverently. “You do realize, Master, that here is the key you’ve been hoping to find. A talking key. I think if you can just ask it the right questions, you’ll find out all the answers. Even some you didn’t know you needed to know.”

“Aivas,” Master Robinton said, straightening his shoulders and directing his next remark to the green light. “Can you answer my questions?”

“That is the function of this apparatus.”

“Let us begin at the beginning then, shall we?” Master Robinton asked.

“That is a correct procedure,” Aivas replied, and what had been a dark panel suddenly became illuminated with a diagram that those in the room identified as similar to one found in the flying ship Jaxom had discovered. Only this diagram had such depth and perspective that it appeared three-dimensional, giving the awed observers the feeling that they were hovering in space, an unthinkable distance away from their sun. “When Mankind first discovered the third planet of the sun Rukbat in the Sagittarian Sector of space…”