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〃Doesn't anyone want to go back？〃 pleaded Danik。
His plea was ignored。
〃All of us should remember our meditative training；〃 Chen admonished。 〃There is the power of the C/M； the inner force within； to protect us。 Let us be brave and confident。〃
〃Chen is right； we will proceed。〃 Rockson said； starting to drive the mini mountain…climbing pitons he'd brought along in his beltpack into the wall with his baton handle。 When he had climbed halfway up； he had Detroit pass the reluctant Class Act up and put her atop the wall。 Detroit climbed up and stood on the two…foot…wide top with the dog； scanning the darkness with the electron binoculars； his rifle ready to protect them all。 Rockson climbed down the other side； putting more of the pitons in the wall to acplish that。 The other Freefighters were over in a minute； using the strong metal mini…spikes as hand… and footholds。 Detroit handed the heavy wolf…dog down； and then climbed down himself。
Class Act ran forward in the darkness； sniffing and growling softly。
The Freefighters moved off behind the canine mutant； guns ready。 All except for Archer； who had his crossbow out and the biggest steel arrow notched。
〃Wait；〃 the frightened Edenite implored； 〃I'm ing。〃
Smokestone muttered； 〃I sense something。 The dog is right to growl。 There is a presence。。。〃
The party had no choice but to move on； though with heightened trepidation。 They passed bizarre stalactites； twisted funnels tapering to a sharp point fifty or sixty feet above them； a veritable sea of giant pinpoints。 The air was freezing now； the ground beneath them slippery with frost。 And there was a new element … sounds。
〃Is anybody breathing funny？〃 Detroit was the first to ask。 They all said they were breathing the same as always。
〃Perhaps。〃 suggested Chen； 〃it is merely an echo from the stalagmites。〃
〃No； I definitely hear some funny breathing；〃 Detroit insisted； stopping again after another hundred paces。 〃And I hear … voices … over there。〃 He shot his beam to the left； and their beams followed。 Nothing。 Just oddly shaped gray…blue rocks。
A case of nerves？ They moved onward。 They left the flat plain； the way was now inclined upward。 〃We're halfway；〃 Rock muttered。
Detroit Green； a man of easy mind； relaxed and always optimistic； was surprisingly the first to fall under the spell of the deadly illusions created by 〃the Whisperers。〃 He fell into the dream easily。 First there was just a dull hum； an electricity in the dark cold air of the underground passage。 It was just the whisper of a gentle soft voice； a breeze； the hint of fingers tracing over the forehead。 And with that slight mental breeze； cold soft fingers reached into his mind。 Not with horror。 Not at first。 Just gentle pleasant memories。
Thus the unseen beings； the Whisperers； that created the illusions were able to painlessly enter Detroit's mind undetected； unopposed。 He had steeled himself for horror。 And there wasn't any。
He was suddenly basking in the warm sunlight of a gentle spring day near Century City。 Detroit Green saw not the darkness of the cavern； felt not its icy wind。 Instead he was in the verdant forest of poplars and cottonwoods。 The leaves on the trees overhead made the sunlight flicker in his eyes as he walked unafraid and happy toward his loved ones。 He had a nice musk deer he had killed draped over his shoulder … he was happy。
And now that the Whisperers had entered his mind by this devious trick； the images changed。 The deer became a desiccated rotted corpse； foul and crawling with worms。 He shouted and dropped it。 He saw the trees around him wither； and the leaves rot off and fall in a cascade of dank death。 The sky opened up with blacks snow swirling down； burning his skin。。。
The Whisperers were picking up his most fearful thoughts … like black acid snow … and projecting them back on him。
Detroit tried to throw it off； started chanting his words of protection； as Chen had taught。 He caught a glimpse for an instant of his real surroundings。 Detroit stood still。 He tried to gain control。 He stated； 〃No…no； I am here； I am in the cavern …〃 But the brave Freefighter； despite his best effort； couldn't hold the thought； and reality slipped away again。
He was suddenly in boot camp； a raw recruit to the Freefighter cause。 A bull…necked DI jabbed him in the belly with a finger and said； 〃All right； Green； you have to prove yourself。 Jump down this little hole。 It's not deep。 You can do it。 The others did。 They'll laugh at you if …〃
〃I can do it； I can。。。〃 Detroit prepared to jump。 It wasn't deep … just six or seven feet。 It was easy。
〃Hey； what is Detroit up to？ What's he doing over there by that crevice？〃 Rock said； shining the light over to the man。
〃The illusions have him；〃 Chen shouted。 〃Quickly； let's get him。〃
Detroit was poised on the edge of the cliff。 The two Freefighters ran to him； and Rockson tackled him and rolled his friend from the abyss。 Detroit struggled with the Doomsday Warrior； screaming and tearing at the man as if he were an enemy。 He saw not his patriot trying to save him； but rather the snaking tendrils of a bloodfruit plant。 In the illusion projected by the Whisperers； the tendrils had locked around his legs and wouldn't let go。 He searched for his knife； but Chen seized it away from him。
Rockson got Detroit in a hammerlock； and as Rona slapped his face repeatedly； the illusion…mad Freefighter gradually ceased his struggle and came around。
He sat there exhausted； his chest heaving。 〃Rock； if you could see what I saw； you'd understand。 Sorry； I …〃
Rockson slapped him on the back。 〃Forget it。 But tell us how it got you … weren't you guarding？〃
Detroit told Rock and the other how it had used a gentle； pleasant memory to get into his mind。
〃So that's what happened。 Everyone … keep counting or saying a mantra as you walk； don't reminisce about anything； don't let your minds wander。 Now let's get out of here。〃
They went on。 Rockson felt the subtlest of mental attack。 It was a pleasant thought about sitting in the restaurant at Century City and ordering a drink of … no。 He fended it off； shutting his mind like a steel spring on it … it passed。
Rona broke stride momentarily； then she too threw it off。 One by one they were tested and found not wanting。 Thanks to Detroit's warning。
But with Scheransky it was a different story。 Scheransky had trouble remembering his mantra； so he counted。 One…two…three。 It worked well for a time； his mind didn't wander； he was keeping up with the others。 Perhaps his lack of deep meditative training； he had trouble with such things … didn't matter。 He would be all right。 But that wasn't the case。
They had gone perhaps another three hundred yards in the darkness； when Scheransky suddenly heard his voice； his counting of numbers in Russian； suddenly change to the voice of another man。 It was the voice of a guard； a KGB guard。 He was a child standing in the snow of the Gulag Reception Station。 He was next to his father； a proud prison official。 And the counting was not of footsteps in the dark cavern； but the counting of half…naked prisoners walking by him。
Each time a prisoner walked by； his father made a mark in a littl