"Being a very observant and discerning Flatlander, he finally realized he was getting exactly nowhere in his two-dimensional attempts to escape a three-dimensional barrier." Lanson paused, grinned.
"We humans are faced with a somewhat similar difficulty in trying to solve a multi-dimensional problem with three-dimensional thinking. However, there is some precedence for hoping that we can surmount the obstacle. Remember that mankind, without ever being able to see the interior of an atom, was able to divine the number and function of its component parts, and was finally successful in inducing both fission and fusion of unstable atoms."
Malherne nodded agreement. "But where does this lead us?" he asked rather impatiently. "How is this discussion of obscure theory going to help us escape from the world of the past, back into our own ages?"
Gordo Lanson nodded toward the stack of parchment sheets on the desk, covered with his meticulous figures. "That is an attempt," he said, "to formulate a method for determining the amount of Teleomagnetic energy or influence required to bring about a given distortion in the Time-flux."
Malherne considered this for a moment. "Oh. I think I'm beginning to see," he said. "You are attempting to compute the amount of energy required to return us to the various ages from which we were pulled by the Kralon's Time Trap."
"Something of that sort," nodded Gordo Lanson.
"To answer a question you are undoubtedly thinking," interjected Zor Ala. "We have found, by laboriously gleaning bits of knowledge from the Kralons, the location of the equipment which induces the Teleomagnetic or gravitic energy which powers the Time Trap."
"Where is it?" Malherne asked.
"In one of the laboratory rooms off the main corridor in the Hive," returned Zor Ala. "The Time Net itself is supported on pylons situated outside the Hive building immediately adjoining the Time-Trap generator room."
"What plan do you have in mind?" asked Malherne eagerly.
"Not a fully-formulated one at all," returned Zor Ala. "But each of us is doing whatever he can to further his knowledge of the Kralon's equipment, and all of us are trying to prepare to take advantage of any opportunity which may arise in the future."
"But," objected Malherne, "even the Kralons apparently can't control the Time sector from which they get their victims. By their own admission, they are trying to gain knowledge by picking humans from as far in the future as possible. But apparently they have been only partially successful, for some of the people they have obtained are from a Time preceding mine. It seems that Gordo Lanson and Dar Mikol and you are three of the few from a period further in the future than my time."
Gordo Lanson nodded. "That is the reason for all this," he said, gesturing toward the stack of sheets on the desk. "I am attempting to formulate a method of controlling the point from which or to which the Time Trap gleans or delivers its victims. Apparently the Kralons have never accomplished that, but I think we can succeed in doing what they could not."
"May the Lord grant that to be true!" said Malherne fervently.
"I regret," said Zor Ala, "that Randall felt it necessary to make his foolhardy attempt to invade the Hive, but of course I understand and sympathize with his reasons.
"He feels entirely responsible for the passengers of the Diamvator, and considers himself obliged to attempt their rescue. However, I am very much afraid that his attempt will be ill-fated."
Lanson nodded. "The Kralons are very intelligent," he said. "And they will have no scruples whatsoever in dealing with troublesome humans. They resent the fact that their own race is to vanish from the surface of the globe in one phase of the future, and that man has supplanted them as the intelligent, governing form of life. And they intend to do something about it!"
Malherne nodded impatiently. "Yes," he said, "but what can we do now? What can we do to help Randall and the rest of my companions? And how can we prepare to use Lanson's theories concerning the Time Trap?"
Both Zor Ala and Gordo Lanson regarded the engineer understandingly. They realized his fear concerning his companions, and sympathized with his frustration in being unable to help them.
The physicist nodded toward the pile of sheets on the desk. "If you remember your calculus," he said, "you could be of great help to us by checking my figures."
Malherne looked uncertainly toward the desk. "I'll do what I can," he said.
When Randall and McClellan threw their combined weights against the panel in the Hive corridor, they had no idea what lay beyond.
The metal sheet bulged, then popped from its guides, and Randall sprawled through the opening, with McClellan atop him.
They found themselves in a room which was shining white from ceiling to floor. In the middle of the room was a flat white table over which several Kralons were absorbed.
Gathered around the central figures were a dozen or more Kralons, apparently spectators. And on the table lay something which Randall knew, from its outlines, had once been human.
Randall looked around for a weapon. A neat stack in one corner of the room caught his eye. There were a dozen or more foot-long metal bus-bars or ingots, apparently spares for fusing electrical circuits.
McClellan followed his glance. Simultaneously both men dove for the bars, each arming himself with one of the twenty-pound metal ingots.
Meanwhile, the room was in a furor. The metallic clack of Kralon conversation sounded furiously, and huge insect figures were converging from all sides.
"Back to back," said Randall tersely, "and let 'em have it!"
The first Kralon who approached the Australian put up a protective foreleg, but the heavy ingot brushed it aside like a matchstick, and crushed the Kralon's head to a pulp. It went down twitching, and the next insect had to scramble over the body to reach McClellan.
Meanwhile, Randall was flailing at two Kralons which were trying to reach him with their vicious claws. Whenever one got in the way, the heavy bar cracked the chitinous shell like that of a crab, and both Kralons drew back, nursing their injuries.
Randall spoke tersely over his shoulder. "Edge over toward the stack of bus-bars," he told McClellan.
Back to back, still flailing with the heavy metal ingots, they worked their way to the corner of the room.
"Use them as missiles," said Randall briefly. "Whenever one of the things starts for us, let him have it with an ingot!"
McClellan did, and, with great effect. The heavy metal bars, flying end-over-end toward attacking Kralons, soon convinced the huge insects that another method of attack should be formulated, and the remaining able individuals withdrew to an adjoining room.
Seizing this opportunity, Randall made sure that there was no life left in the form on the operating table, then he and McClellan dashed from the room, back into the main corridor.
A panel at their left opened suddenly, and a Kralon stepped into the corridor.
Randall sent his ingot flying end-over-end toward the huge insect. It was a perfect hit, and the Kralon went down, limbs twitching feebly.
"In here!" said Randall tersely, and McClellan followed him through the opening. They found themselves in a high-domed room filled with huge generators and other elaborate electrical equipment. Massive four-inch conduits led from the generators to a main cable, which in turn left the building through a sleeved opening in the wall.
Through a large window across the room, Randall saw the Time Net on which they had first made their appearance into this strange world. It was stretched like an acrobats' net between four pylons just outside the building. The supporting pylons extended on above the net, forming four towers, between the crests of which was supported a complex skein of intermeshing heavy metallic strands with spherical nodules studding their length every few feet.
Randall nodded toward the massive equipment. "The mechanism for the Time Trap," he said.
McClellan raised his metal ingot suggestively.
Randall shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "We might have use for it." Then he noticed that the generators were operating, and what appeared to be a huge rectifier was humming with a deep vibrant moan, violet light flashing in a dozen huge tubes which reached almost from ceiling to floor.
He nudged McClellan. "It's running," he said. "The Kralons must leave it in operation all the time in their effort to catch victims from the future."
VI
While Randall and McClellan were deciding what should be done about the Time Trap, Jerome Jackson was standing in open-mouthed awe before the huge crystal cylinders in the room which he had entered.
In the first cylinder was a twelve-foot length of undulating livid flesh which looked exactly like a gigantic maggot.
Then his glance flicked to the next crystal cylinder. In it was a replica of the first.
That is, it was almost a replica. But the exterior covering seemed greyer and thicker, more like a shell than that of the first.
The third cylinder held still another monstrous larva. And its difference was even more apparent. The sickly gray covering was translucent, and through it Jackson could see that the interior of the thing was definitely undergoing metamorphosis.
Following on down the line of crystal tubes, it became quite apparent that these were steps in the pupation of Kralon larvae, for the inhabitant of the tube on the end of the row was our almost fully developed Kralon.
"Artificial cocoons!" thought Jackson. "I wonder if it is necessary for the Kralons to protect all the larvae of their race in this way during development?"
Then Jackson reached a sudden decision. "Why should I risk my neck, just because the rest of them don't respect theirs?" he thought. "I'm going to get out of here!"
On his way from the room he paused curiously for a moment beside the huge control panel, with its myriad triangular controls and dials, but, unlike Dr. Gerard, he held too much esteem for his own safety to chance an impetuous action. Furthermore, destruction of Kralon property wasn't in his plans now.
He left the laboratory room, closing the panel behind him. He scurried rapidly down the corridor to the main Hive entrance. There he looked about cautiously, then crept across the open space to the foot of the stockade.
He put two fingers to his lips, whistled loudly. "Kralons!" he shouted. "Kralons, can you hear me?"
There was no immediate response, and for several minutes Jackson alternately whistled and called out for the Kralons. Before long, one of the smaller worker insects came rapidly up the path from the Hive and stopped before Jackson.
Then the speaker above the main entrance to the Hive boomed a message. "You will follow the guide," it said.
Jackson did so, and his Kralon guide led the way to a separate entrance a dozen yards south of the main Hive corridor. In a few moments, they again entered the conference room where the comrades had been questioned after their arrival in the world of giant insects.
A few of the council group were present, and the Kralon "Voderist" was ready at the keyboard of the mechanical voice. In answer to the insect's flying fingers, a question sounded in metallic tones: "What do you want?" it asked. "Why are you calling the Kralons? And how did you leave the stockade?"
"I came to warn you," said Jackson. "Four of my companions are hiding somewhere in the Hive, and they will try to do all the damage they can."
The several council members conferred, mandibles clacking.
"We knew of one," the Voder said. "We caught one of your companions in the corridor. After a fight with some of our workers, he was returned to the stockade."
"Well," said Jackson, "there are three more somewhere, and you'd better find them before they cause trouble."
The Kralon who was apparently leader of the council, examined the salesman suspiciously with its many-faceted eyes. He spoke briefly to the Kralon at the keyboard, and the Voder asked: "Why are you telling us these things? Why are you betraying your companions?"
"They're fools!" said Jackson contemptuously. "Even if they have no regard for their own welfare, I value mine. I'd like to make a deal with you."
"What kind of a deal?"
"In return for my safety," replied Jackson, "I will give you information on the activities of the group in the stockade."
Again the Kralons conferred, then the question came: "How do we know that we can trust you?"
"Why not?" asked Jackson. "I have everything to gain and nothing to lose by cooperating with you."
After another short conference, the Voder said: "We find your terms acceptable, and you will be returned to the stockade as if you had been apprehended in the Hive."
Just then, warning gongs sounded brazenly in the conference room, and violet lights flashed a signal above the entry. The Kralons clacked furiously to each other for a moment, then scurried from the room, leaving the smaller guide to escort Jackson back to the stockade.
Back in the Incubator Room, Doctor Gerard watched in fascination the havoc his actions were producing.
Under the increased intensity of the heating elements and infra-red tubes which normally warmed the Kralon eggs to incubation temperature, disaster was slowly occurring.
The Doctor's handiwork on the dials of the control panel had apparently inactivated the thermostatic controls, and now the eggs were bathed in vicious radiation overtaxed tubes and scorched by overloaded elements. The Doctor was literally cooking the Kralon eggs!
He knew that his interference had set off warning gongs and signal lights, so he discreetly turned from the room and down the main corridor.
When he was halfway to the Hive entrance he heard the metallic clatter of Kralon mandibles ahead of him. He spotted an open panel across the hall, stepped inside and touched the stud which closed the panel.
He found himself in the generator room, with Randall and McClellan looking at him in amazement.
"Hi!" Doctor Gerard said brightly. "What's up?"
"Hi, yourself," said the little gray agent. "Find anything interesting?"
Gerard nodded. "Just cooked the next generation of Kralons," he said proudly. Then he told the two men what had happened in the incubator room.
"Oh—oh!" said McClellan. "The Hive will really be a hornet's nest now!"
Randall nodded. "We'd better make ourselves scarce."
"How?" asked Dr. Gerard.
Randall gestured toward the opening overlooking the Time Net. "Out that way," he replied.
Hurriedly the three men pushed a low table over against the wall under the opening.
Randall climbed upon it. "Better hurry," he said. "You first, Doctor."
Dr. Gerard climbed upon the table, and with Randall's and McClellan's help, pulled himself up into the opening. He hung outside by his hands for a moment, then dropped to the ground below. McClellan was next, pulling his lanky body up to the opening, with Randall boosting.
Settling himself on the sill, he reached a hand down to Randall.
Just then a giant Kralon stepped into the room. Its faceted eyes regarded them for a moment in almost ludicrous surprise. It turned its head, clacked a message to companions in the hall, then scurried rapidly toward Randall, two more Kralons close behind it.
Randall had just touched McClellan's hand when the foremost Kralon caught the table with a hooked foreleg, sliding it and Randall away from the opening.
"Hurry up!" he told McClellan. "Jump!"
McClellan hesitated.
"You can't help me alone," Randall urged. "Get back to the stockade and get help!"
McClellan was still undecided. He started to drop back into the room, then as if realizing the truth of Randall's words, he turned and leaped from the opening to the ground below.
Randall stepped calmly from the table to the floor and held his hands above his head in universal gesture of surrender.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Now what?"
The Kralons apparently understood. Without touching Randall, one of them motioned toward the corridor.
Doctor Gerard and McClellan scrambled to their feet outside the building.
"We'd better get help, fast!" said McClellan.
In Gordo Lanson's hut, Lanson acquainted Dr. Gerard and McClellan with his theory, and told them of his tentative plans.
Dr. Gerard was faintly hopeful, but immediately voiced an objection. "How do you propose to escape the Kralons long enough to acquaint yourself with the operation of the Time Trap, and to perform the necessary experimentation?"
"We thought perhaps you could help us there, Dr. Gerard," said Lanson.
"You're a physiological chemist, are you not?"
"Used to be," admitted Dr. Gerard. "But of late years I have concerned myself more with my avocation of Entomology. That is, itwasan avocation until I met the Kralons.
"But that isn't the thing of immediate importance," he continued. "The Kralons have captured Randall. We've got to find some way of helping him!"
"That would be pretty hard to do now," said Zor Ala. "The Kralons have turned the spotlights on the stockade, and apparently are sending out guards. I'm afraid Randall will have to take care of himself for the present."
"Say, how about Jackson?" said McClellan.
"He's back," replied Lanson. "According to his story, he was caught in the Hive corridor."
"Too bad," remarked McClellan laconically, leaving a doubt as to what was too bad.
Zor Ala and Lanson grinned appreciatively, but McClellan was deeply absorbed in thought.
"We've got to do something to help Randall!" he insisted. "That's why the doctor and I left him and came to the stockade.—To get help!"
"How?" asked Zor Ala.
McClellan shrugged helplessly.
Then his dilemma was solved by a voice outside the hut which asked: "May I come in?"
"Randall!" shouted McClellan exuberantly.
"How did you do it?" asked Dr. Gerard and McClellan simultaneously.
Randall shrugged. "I didn't," he said. "They just decided that I was entirely harmless, and brought me safely back to the stockade."
McClellan eyed him suspiciously, remembering the agent's flailing metal bar. "That isn't all of it," he accused darkly.
Randall grinned. "Well, not quite all," he admitted. "When they took me to the conference room and questioned me, I inferred I had knowledge of what destroyed their race in the future. I told them that if they would return me to the stockade for consultation with my companions, I would give them that information later. They took me up on it."
Zor Ala was the first to ask: "Do you really mean that you have an idea what destroyed the Kralons?"
Randall nodded. "I think so," he said. "I believe there's a good possibility that it was—"
Just then the door opened again, and Jackson stepped into the hut.
"Outside intervention," completed Randall, regarding the new arrival with expressionless eyes.
Jackson looked at Randall sharply, as if wondering whether the last words applied to him.
"What's up?" he asked. "When did you get back, Randall?—And Gerard and McClellan," he added, seeing the other two men. "How did you make out?"
"Didn't accomplish a thing, unfortunately," said Randall. "How about you?"
Jackson shook his head. "I got caught in the corridor. What's the conference about?"
"We were just discussing—" began Lanson, when Randall interrupted.
"Plans for the future," he completed. "Now how about us all getting some sleep. The night is almost over, and none of us have had any rest."
The others took the hint, and all agreed that it was far past bedtime.
Randall didn't sleep much, but he did rest his weary body in preparation for the day to come.
VII
The hot yellow sun was just bulging over the eastern horizon as he dressed. He made his way to Lanson's hut and tapped quietly.
After spending half an hour with the physicist, he went to Zor Ala's hut and spent ten minutes with him. Then he went back to the shelter which he shared with McClellan.
"Up bright and early, aren't you?" the Australian greeted him as he entered.
"Rather early, but none too brightly," Randall replied. "I'm getting too old to be frolicking around with a bunch of overgrown ants."
"You aren't alone," agreed McClellan ruefully. He stretched painfully, groaned, then quickly donned his clothes.
"What's on the agenda for today?" he asked.
"Among other things," replied Randall. "I'm going to find out what happened to McMahon and his bride. We already know what happened to Blake Garnet," he added, memory of that silent form on the operating table still vivid in his mind.
Someone rapped sharply on the door, and Jackson stuck his head in. "Lanson asked me to tell you that Zor Ala is sick," he said.
"What's the trouble?" Randall asked.
Jackson shrugged. "He called in Dr. Gerard. He is afraid it's serious."
"Oh-oh!" said Randall. "We would be in a mess with an epidemic on our hands, wouldn't we?"
Jackson's eyes were frightened. "You mean it's contagious?"
"I don't know, of course," Randall answered. "We'll see what Dr. Gerard has to say."
Within a few moments, the three men joined Lanson and Dr. Gerard outside Zor Ala's hut.
"What do you think, Doc?" asked Randall.
"Can't tell for sure," Gerard replied. "My medical knowledge is definitely limited. Furthermore, I have no equipment to make tests, but my diagnosis is meningococcus—cerebrospinal meningitis."
"Well, will the rest of us get it?" asked Jackson, edging away from the men who had been in Zor Ala's shelter.
"Could be," said Dr. Gerard seriously. "We'll have to keep him isolated, but I'm afraid some of us have already been exposed. We may have real trouble on our hands."
"What's the remedy?" inquired McClellan.
"Well, sulfonilamide, if we had it," replied Dr. Gerard. "But we don't have any medicine at all."
"What—what will we do?" asked Jackson apprehensively.
The doctor shrugged. "If I had access to a chemical laboratory," he said, "I could synthesize some sulfa, but I doubt if the Kralons would let me use theirs."
"They might, at that," said Randall, watching Jackson out of the corner of his eye, "If they knew an epidemic might wipe out their entire colony of humans after all the work they've done in getting them from the future."
"Maybe they would," said Jackson eagerly. "Should I talk to them about it?"
"Couldn't hurt anything," replied Randall casually. "And it might help."
Together the group made its way to the locked gate in the stockade wall. There they set up a disturbance until a Kralon guard came and unlocked the gate. At the same time the speaker blared: "One human will follow."
Jackson stepped out from the group and followed the Kralon down the path and into the Hive.
"Do you really think the Kralons will let us have access to their chemical laboratory?" asked McClellan.
Randall shrugged. "They might," he said, "if Jackson is convincing enough. I know they don't want to lose all their human guinea pigs."
In less than an hour Jackson was back. "The Kralons said that Dr. Gerard could use the laboratory," he said. "And I'm to help him with his work."
"Okay," said the doctor briskly. "We'd better hurry."
Together, the two men followed the guide back to the Hive.
A few moments later, Randall, McClellan and Lanson joined Malherne in Lanson's hut. They seated themselves before the crude desk with its pile of figured sheets.
"How does it look?" asked Randall.
"Very good," replied the physicist. "Malherne has checked my figures and they are apparently all right."
"Just how does it all stack up?" asked McClellan.
Lanson ran a hand through his bristling thatch. "Well," he said, "In the first place, from my computations it seems quite apparent that if we reverse the current through the mosaic mesh of the screen above the Time Net, the Teleomagnetic flux should create a stress in the opposite direction to that induced by the Kralons. Thus, theoretically, the direction of the Teleomagnetic or gravitic displacement, acting on anyone in the net, should be forward in Time, rather than backward."
"How about selecting the proper spot in Time?" asked McClellan.
"That is accomplished by the amount of energy, figured in Teleomagnetic magnetons, and interpolated to dynes required to produce a given Time displacement or warp," he answered.
"How about conversion to your system of the readings on the Kralon indicators and instruments?" asked Randall.
Lanson held up a flashlight which one of the humans had had among his possessions. "By checking the standard output of a dry cell against the instruments, and computing the indicator readings in our own terms," he replied.
Randall nodded. "Looks as if you have done quite a thorough job," he agreed. "Now, if Dr. Gerard can do his stuff we may have a chance."
In the laboratory of the Kralons, Dr. Gerard was having his troubles. The various containers and their enigmatic labels were of course entirely foreign to him, and it was necessary for him to start a basic qualitative analysis, without knowing one reagent from another. However, it wasn't too difficult for him to qualitatively identify sulfuric acid and a few other basic chemicals, and from then on his task was easier.
Jackson was a surprisingly good assistant, although he bothered Dr. Gerard frequently with questions about the degree of contagion of meningitis.
The doctor did nothing to ameliorate his fear. Rather he spurred Jackson to increased effort by conjecturing upon the havoc the disease could wreak if it reached epidemic proportions.
Twice he called upon the Kralons for more reagents and chemicals. The third time he was questioned at length concerning the quantity he was using.
His explanation was the admission of difficulty in reconciling his own and the Kralon terminology for materials. Thus it was easy to understand, he explained carefully, why he had inadvertently wasted several batches.
But all the time the quantity of white powder in a large cask in one corner of the room was growing steadily. When the cask was finally full, Dr. Gerard called a halt to their labor of synthesis.
"Seems as though that should be enough for an army," remarked Jackson, examining the huge container full of the chemical powder.
"May have to use it on about that many," replied Dr. Gerard brusquely.
While Jackson was busy filtering and running the last batch, Dr. Gerard had fabricated a Venturi tube and a spray nozzle from odds and ends of laboratory equipment. Working rapidly, he filled a large metal container with powder from the cask, then added enough liquid to fill the cask and to dissolve its contents.
Then, with Jackson's help, he moved the cask over beside the air return of the air conditioning and recirculating system for the Hive. He pulled a small table over beside the cask, clamped the Venturi tube and spray nozzle in place, with the nozzle pointing into the return duct. Then he connected a hose from the laboratory water system to the Venturi, and a return hose back to the drain.
The spray worked beautifully, vaporizing the solution and spraying it as a fine mist into the air return duct.
"What's that for?" asked Jackson suspiciously.
"Just arranging decontamination for the Hive so that it'll be safe for us to come here."
Jackson looked at Gerard sharply, but didn't say anything.
It was evening again by this time, and Gerard asked Jackson to see whether the Kralons had some kind of portable lighting equipment, so that he could see to minister to Zor Ala and any others who might need attention.
While Jackson was gone, Dr. Gerard pulled a large carton over in front of his spray system, hiding it quite effectively from casual inspection. He closed the entrance panel, carefully inserting a wedge of metal in the guide which jammed it as it closed.
Then he started down the hall with a container of powder under his arm. Jackson met him in the corridor. The salesman was carrying two transparent globular jars slung from handles. The globes were apparently filled with highly phosphorescent matter, for they gave almost as much light as a lantern.
"How will these do?" Jackson asked.
"Fine," said Dr. Gerard heartily. "Now let's get going."
Back in the stockade a few minutes later he left Jackson with a hurried excuse, conferred briefly with Randall, then went to Lanson's shelter.
By this time things were beginning to add up in Jackson's rather sluggish mental processes, and they didn't come out even. Thoroughly he turned the whole sequence of events over in his mind, reached a decision, then decided to wait until the rest of the human colony had retired for the night, before making a move.
A little later Randall, McClellan, Gordo Lanson, Dr. Gerard and Malherne were gathered in Zor Ala's hut for a final council meeting to outline timing and strategy for their next moves.
"Remarkable recovery you made, sir," McClellan told Zor Ala with a grin.
The future-man smiled. "Yes," he said. "I believe that Dr. Gerard's medication is quite effective. It's made me feel much better already, even though it's the Kralons rather than I who are taking it!"
Then he turned to the little investigation agent. "Neat idea of yours, Randall, of synthesizing D.D.T. to fight the Kralons."
"D.D.T.?" asked Malherne, who had not been a member of this particular phase of the intrigue. "What's that?"
"Dichloro-diphenyl-trichlorethane, to use the generic term for the chemical," replied Dr. Gerard. "It's a chemical insecticide that's quite specific for most insects."
"Oh," said the engineer in comprehension. "That's what you were synthesizing instead of sulfonilamide!"
"Right," said the little doctor. "But itisa remedy for our troubles, we hope," he added in defense of the deceit they had practiced.
The group chuckled at Gerard's righteousness, even in dealing with inhuman monsters.
"How long do you think it will take for the chemical to have a material effect on the Kralons?" inquired Lanson.
"Shouldn't be too long," interposed Dr. Gerard. "Unlike the insects of our own times, these creatures have had no opportunity to build up an immunity, nor time to mutate as a race to types resistant to chemical insecticides. Therefore its effect should be considerably more rapid than upon even the small insects of the future."
Zor Ala nodded in satisfaction. "The floor is yours, Randall," he said.
Randall stepped to the center of the group. "We are apparently all in agreement that the zero hour is to be set at 4:00 AM, or 1600 in universal time. That should give sufficient time for the DDT to accomplish its work, and we do not dare delay beyond then for fear that Dr. Gerard's contrivance will be discovered in the morning, thus alerting the Kralons."
He paused a moment, his pale gray eyes flicking from one member of the group to another. "It might be wise to keep an eye on Jackson in the meantime," he said. "He undoubtedly has had time to think things over, and to have concluded that Dr. Gerard's fake synthesis and subsequent actions weren't quite plausible under the circumstances."
"How did you happen to suspect him in the first place?" asked McClellan.
Randall smiled faintly. "It was quite obvious that the salesman lacked courage," he replied. "We all were fully aware of that. Also, both by profession and inclination, Jackson was an opportunist.
"In my dealings with the renegades of society, I have always found that to be a deadly combination. A cowardly opportunist can almost always be expected to turn traitor to a cause which offers him any particular inconvenience. Also," he added, "the Kralons asked me several questions about Jackson which set me thinking."
Lanson nodded. "He very clearly gave his position away when he so willingly volunteered to contact the Kralons with our request," he said. "We certainly have you to thank for preventing us from exposing our plans before him. You were particularly adroit in utilizing his treacherous contact with the Kralons to our advantage."
As the other members nodded agreement, Randall shifted uneasily. "I didn't do much," he said briefly. "Dr. Gerard did all the work. But the hardest part is still ahead of us. The DDT, at best, is only going to make the Kralons lethargic and slow in the time we have allowed. Even if they don't suspect something and vacate the Hive before the chemical-laden air affects them adversely. In any event we will have many problems to solve.
"Let us outline briefly the tasks assigned to each of us, and formulate a time schedule of action, starting with 4:00 AM as the zero hour."
He turned to Zor Ala. "You are to make such contacts with the other humans of the colony as you feel advisable, and you will organize several parties from those you feel you can trust. Have them gather in small groups on either side of the main gate, staying in the shadows of the stockade wall. Be sure they are ready at one minute to four. Have the members armed with any weapons you can devise."
Then he continued, outlining carefully the assigned plan of action and time schedule for each individual.
VIII
Outside, behind the low hut, Jackson strained his ears to catch Randall's words. With an innate animal cunning, he had finally surmised most of the intricate plot, and had crept to his vantage point shortly after the meeting in Lanson's shelter had begun.
However, Jackson was still faced with the problem of escaping the surveillance of his human companions long enough to contact the Kralons and acquaint them with the plot. He realized that if he made sufficient noise to attract the huge insects, he would be intercepted and subdued before he could accomplish his objective.
Then his dilemma was suddenly solved by the mechanical voice of the Voder. Amplified by the speaker, it called out in hesitant, somewhat garbled accents: "The hu-man called Jack-son will come to the gate immed-iately."
With a glance around to see that none of his companions were close enough to intercept him, Jackson made a run for the gate. When he arrived there, the Kralon guide had already unlocked it and was waiting for him. Rapidly it led the way up the beaten path to the Hive entrance and down the long corridor to the conference room.
The Voderist sat ready at the instrument, and it was evident that the Kralon was maintaining its posture with difficulty. The DDT was apparently having a pronounced effect.
A number of the council members were present, and they too seemed to be showing effects from the chemical. But their multi-faceted eyes regarded the salesman with unmistakable enmity.
"Human," said the Voder in tones as severe as possible for the mechanical contrivance, "what trickery have you and your companions used to poison the air of the Hive?"
"I didn't," denied Jackson, shrinking back from the virulence of those inhuman eyes and the very real menace of the huge pincers.
Back in the stockade, Randall and his council members had heard the Kralon voice, and had seen Jackson disappear with the guard. The agent was sick at heart, for he knew that this meant the destruction of all their carefully formulated plans.
If they had only had a few hours more, the DDT would certainly have rendered the Kralons vulnerable to attack.
Randall quickly conferred with his group. Following the directions the agent gave, Malherne ran back to one of the shelters and brought rope.
Randall handed the rope to McClellan without comment. The Australian silently improvised a hondo, made a loop, and twirled it skillfully. He tossed it over the top of one of the pilings, watched it settle into place, then tugged it tight.
Randall was halfway up the rope before anyone could object. He gained the top of the stockade, dropped to the ground on the other side. Hastily he located the massive bolt which barred the gate and stood on his toes to reach it. The Kralons had not constructed it for human manipulation, and Randall was having trouble.
As he glanced back over his shoulder he saw several Kralon guards start down the path toward him.
"Be ready for a fight," he called through the wall to his companions, "as soon as I get the gate open. The guards are coming."
It wasn't until the Kralons were within a dozen yards that the bolt finally gave under Randall's frenzied efforts, and the gate swung open. Then out streamed a motley mob of determined humans, with Dr. Gerard leading. He held his container ready, advancing toward the approaching Kralons. He waited until they were within a few feet, then dashed the contents of the container at their heads.
Randall never knew whether it was partially the effects of the insecticide or purely the virulence and vicious determination of the band of humans which finally overcame the Kralons. But as soon as he saw that both were down, limbs threshing, he led the group to the Hive entry and down the huge corridor.
He almost grinned as he thought of this ludicrous army storming the ramparts of a fantastic race in the dim forgotten past, for the motley human crowd from a dozen different ages brandished clubs, stones, and knives, and McClellan was twirling his improvised lariat.
Quickly the agent found the entry to the Time Trap laboratory and opened the panel. The Kralon guard didn't have much chance, for it was already lethargic from the effects of the DDT, and the milling mob of humans soon swarmed over its prostrate figure.
Wasting no time, Gordo Lanson rapidly began his check tests with the drycell, calling out his readings to Malherne who noted them down on the white wall.
Meanwhile, Randall was determined to find out definitely what had happened to the McMahons. Calling McClellan, he left the Time Trap laboratory and led the way to the operating room. No trace of any form there.
From room to room they searched. Finally they arrived at the council room door. Randall opened it and stepped in, McClellan close behind him. What he saw brought the gorge to his throat, inured though he was to dealing in violence.
It was quite apparent that Jackson had failed to sell the Kralon Council the truth of his innocence. Their final acts had been to exact retribution.
Slowly the two men turned away, then continued their search for some sign of the McMahons. And Randall knew then, with a sudden flash of insight, that the phase of the future to which he and his companions would soon return would not know the names of Blake Garnet, Jerome Jackson, or Charles and Evelyn McMahon. He knew with an esoteric knowledge that in that particular future there would have been just seven Diamvator passengers and himself scheduled on the historic trip. And he was somehow sure that the passenger check list would substantiate that count.
For it would be an alternate phase of the future, rather than the one in which those people had, or might have existed. Those four personalities would henceforth exist only as a memory in his mind. And perhaps it wouldn't even be strictly a memory. Perhaps it would be a dream; an ephemeral and elusive link between alternate potential Time phases.
There was a fantastic thought! Perhaps all dreams were but vague links between Time potentials or alternate phases.
Then Randall impatiently thrust aside the fanciful theories and turned to the search.
The room he and McClellan now entered was quite obviously a genetics research laboratory. And it was there that they found unmistakable evidence of the two young McMahons.
They examined the grisly proof that the young couple had been victimized by vicious Kralon experiments. Apparently the research was aimed at the use of human gene-determinants in synthesizing a greater Kralon race.
In the next room Randall found a case filled with metallic sheets covered with hieroglyphics. Feeling that the records might hold information of value to Zor Ala and Lanson, the agent removed the first sheet and took it with him.
Back in the Time Trap room he called it to Zor Ala's attention, and while Lanson and Malherne were busily completing their transpositions and calibrations, the future-man excitedly examined the record.
"It's written in Ulla!" he cried. "The Universal written language adopted in the 30th Century for documentary purposes. Where did you find it?"
Randall led the way back to the room where he had found the records. Zor Ala avidly began to read the information contained in the file, making notes from time to time on his mechanical pocket recorder.
Meanwhile Randall wandered from room to room, finding that the DDT had done a thorough job, for nowhere did he find a sign of life in the motionless Kralon corpses.
When he finally returned to the vault, Zor Ala looked up from his work and took a deep breath.
"Randall," he said, his fine eyes shining with an almost evangelical light, "this is a summary of the most magnificent revelation in the history of the universe!"
On the way back to the generator room Randall plied him with questions, but Zor Ala was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear them.
As they re-entered the Time Trap laboratory, Malherne and Lanson looked up from their work. At Zor Ala's gesture they paused in their labor, and the rest of the humans waited for his words.
"Friends," he said, his splendid head held proudly, and his deep voice rich with the surge of mighty emotion, "before we again return to our various ages, it is important that all of us know the most astounding story that it has ever been the privilege of mortal men to hear."
While the crowd fell silent within the room, and those in the corridor crowded closer to hear his words, Zor Ala continued:
"It is the story of Man in all his glory! It is the story of a superb race of men who exist so far in the future that my own age is antediluvian by comparison. It is the stupendous history of that race's realization of the ultimate goal of Life; a goal so tremendous that its concepts were staggering, even to those supremely mature minds!"
Zor Ala paused, drew a deep breath, then went on.
"Those far distant future-men knew that goal to be far more important than any one life or any one race or any galaxy. They knew that no effort should be spared in its ultimate accomplishment.
"That infinite purpose transcended even individual or racial survival, and this almost divinely intelligent and benevolent race knew that the history of Life's development must be reviewed; must be re-examined to determine whether Mankind was the most suitable vehicle for its eventual attainment.
"Following this postulate, they developed the science of Dimensional Time, and devised equipment for investigating the past. There, their first test of Man's fitness for the ultimate purpose was to aid forms of life other than Man.
"First they set up elaborate scientific equipment to provide an artificial evolutionary leap ahead for one form which had diverged from the main stem.
"Knowing full well that if this life-form progressed, Man's whole future would undoubtedly be replaced by an alternate future of insect supremacy, this super-race without hesitation continued its work of producing a tremendous artificial advancement for the rudimentary invertebrates.
"They accomplished this objective by inducing a re-encystment or pupation which carried the invertebrates up the evolutionary ladder countless millions of years in a single stride!
"They fully realized that if their help was successful in aiding this life-form to reach ascendance, that Man's phase—their phase of the future—would no longer exist. But they knew that the infinite importance of the ultimate goal must be placed above all else!
"Thus the Kralons sprang suddenly from low invertebrate stock which had strayed off as a branch of the main evolutionary stem. But they were an artificial race, raised to their pedestal among other life-forms by outside help, rather than through sturdy, solid evolutionary progress."
Zor Ala paused while his audience looked at each other soberly, all realizing that the Kralons had failed the splendid chance which had been offered them by the almost divine race of the far distant future.
And then they realized that they themselves had played a part in the cosmic scheme which once again was assuring Man of his place in Life. They had helped to forge another link in the chain of evidence pointing toward the conclusion that Man and Man alone was to be selected to reach that ultimate goal!
Zor Ala continued!
"The investigators assigned by the super-race were not content with testing only this single life-form against Man's development. They combed the infinite past, selecting various promising genera to aid; hoping, always hoping in their hearts that Man himself would emerge from the tests as the chosen species, but never allowing that hope to influence their work.
"They helped man, very many species with well-planned steps; a help which Man's progenitors never had. They implanted determinant genes in a certain reptilian branch which eventually produced the mighty dinosaurs' great size; reasoning that the advantage of protective size might allow this life-type to evolve toward the heights.
"But the reptiles also failed their chance, possibly even as the Kralons are failing theirs. Perhaps, like the Kralons they were not satisfied with all the help the future had already given them. Perhaps they, like the selfish insects, again reached forward in Time for more and more unearned information, thus bringing back the elements of their own destruction!"
The listening humans exhaled almost as one. This was a concept so vast that it was almost mentally painful; yet so glorious in its implications for Man that every heart felt the surge of a mighty emotion.
Randall looked around at his companions. On every face he saw the glory of tremendous purpose.
No longer would they blunder through Life with fumbling and despairing uncertainty. No more would hollow frustration gnaw at searching minds which eternally wondered: "Why survive? For what purpose? What is our destiny?"
Now they knew! Now the distant view of a magnificent purpose would be always before them, filling them with a vast serenity coupled with a mighty incentive. Whence now, little man? Onward!