"I don't believe they could," Blackburn declared. "A race that hides behind a screen would not be mechanical. If they knew mechanics, they would go out into space instead of shielding themselves from space. I'll make a guess the Cygnians are nonmechanical."
"But the screen," Anderson prompted.
"It wouldn't have to be mechanical," Blackburn said flatly.
Clark smacked his open palm on his knee. "What's the use of all this speculation? Sutton didn't repair that ship. He brought it back, somehow, without repair. He didn't even try to fix it. There are layers of rust on everything and there's not a wrench mark on it."
Shulcross leaned forward. "One thing I don't get," he said. "Clark says some of the ports were broken. That means Sutton navigated eleven light-years exposed to space."
"He used a suit," said Blackburn.
Clark said, quietly, "There weren't any suits."
He looked around the room, almost as if he feared someone outside the little circle might be listening.
He lowered his voice. "And that isn't all. There wasn't any food and there wasn't any water."
Anderson tapped out his pipe against the palm of his hand and the hollow sound of tapping echoed in the room. Carefully, deliberately, almost as if forcing himself to concentrate upon it, he dropped the ash from his hand into a tray.