Part 4

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, it _was_ an 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 it _is_ a 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.