Chapter Twelve: --continued--

"What do you mean 'of course'?" Jonathan promptly demanded. "This whole culture fails to make sense to me."
Grinder's face stretched into a thin grin. "We're the revolutionaries. I expect that you'll hear all about us sooner or later."
"All I've done since coming to this place is hear about different things." Jonathan said. "It's quite a lot of information to absorb."
"Of that, I'm quite sure. Come up to the bow of the ship. I want to show you a little something." Grinder stepped out of the room. His boot clanged on the decking as he made his way forward. He could move with absolute stealth, or he could be noisy as one woudl expect a man of his size to be.
In the front of the ship, the woman was still muttering to the three meditative crewmembers. They all looked as if they were sleeping.
"The new place we want to go, Helen, is the moon of Ranch. Helen, we're going to the moon of Ranch. Andy, the new place we want to go Andy, is the moon of Ranch. Ignus, the moon of Ranch is where we are going." It was almost like a chant. It was hypnotic to listen to when one was awake. Jonthan could only imagine what it was like to be one of the Idealists.
"We're reprogramming them." Grinder whispered softly. "They're going to take us where we need to go, and maybe, just maybe one or two of 'em will hear our reasoning and join our cause. Hell, it'd be an unlikley blessing, but many all three will understand out position and our movement will finally get a ship of our own. not sure how we'd pilot it, thought."
"Listen, Grinder," Jonathan began. "What is your movement?"
"We're the realists, son." The man said.
"And what does that mean?" Jonathan was beginning to find it difficult to follow anything of what was being said, and he was alos beginning to fell like every question he asked was elementry to the people asked it.
"It means we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Jonathan, we know that the idealists are wrong."
Jonathan's head wrapped around this idea. "They're wrong?" It didn't take him long to sort out the major issue with that statement. "Then how in the hell do these spaceships work?"
"I'm going to leave that delicate question for later."
"Why can't I ever get a straight answer..." Jonathan mutter, and he sat down. There was nothing else he could do.