Ross from the web-slung chair to the and himself as small as possible under the at the of the cabin. Here, where there was a smaller and two seats closely together, the odd, odor and to Ross's as he waited for the to appear. Though he had searched, there was nothing in a weapon. In a last for he to the stairwell.
He had been a his period, one which a and, he had been warned, was often fatal. He would use it now. The was very close. A through the opening, and Ross struck, as his hand against the of a that he had failed.
But the of that saved him after all. With a the man disappeared, upon the one him. A and were from below, and a up the well as Ross away from it. He might have the final battle, but they had him cornered. He that bleakly. They need only and let nature take its course. His session in the had his strength, but a man not live without food and water.
However, he had himself a of time which must be put to work. Turning to the seats, Ross that they be from their swings. Freeing all of them, he their weight to the and them together to make a barricade. It not long against any push from below, but, he hoped, it would if some to him by ricochet. Every so often there was the crash of a and some shouting, but Ross was not going to be out of by that.
He around the cabin, still for a weapon. The on the and were meaningless to him. They him he that among that were some that might help him out of the if he only their use.
Once more he by the thinking. This was the point from which the ship had been sailed—in the air or on some now sea. These must have the ship's master the means not only of the bulk, but of and cargo, lighting, heating, ventilation, and defense! Of course, every might be now, but he that in the the had successfully, the for which they had been constructed.
The only step was to try his luck. Having his decision, Ross his as he had in a very and almost childhood, around three times, and pointed. Then he looked to see where luck had him.
His a which there had been three seats, and he to it slowly, with a that once he touched the he might a of events he not stop. The crash of a the that he had no other recourse.
Since the meant nothing, Ross on the of the and one which the type of light he had always known. Since it was up, he pressed it down, to twenty slowly as he waited for a reaction. Below the was an marked with two and a in red. Ross it level with the panel, and when it did not back, he somehow encouraged. When the two that did not push in or move up and down, Ross them out without waiting to count off.
This time he had results! A of noise with a rhythm, the of which, low at first, to a the cabin. Ross, by the din, one and then the other until he had the to a less howl. But he needed action, not just noise; he moved from the chair to the next one. Here were five buttons, marked in the same green as that which his clothing—two wiggles, a dot, a bar, a pair of circles, and a crosshatch.
Why make a choice? Recklessness to the surface, and Ross pushed all the in succession. The results were, in a measure, spectacular. Out of the top of the rose a triangle of screen which and while across it played a of color. Meanwhile the an angry as if in protest.
Well, he had something, if he didn't know what it was! And he had also proved that the ship was alive. However, Ross wanted more than a of exasperation, which was what the noise had become. It almost sounded, Ross as he listened, as if he were being out in another language. Yes, he wanted more than a series of and a of light on a screen.
At the of the third and last seat there was less choice—only two switches. As Ross up the the pattern on the screen into a color with in which there was a of a picture. Suppose one didn't put the all the way up? Ross the in which the moved and now noted a series of point marks along it. Selective? It would not do any to see. First he to the of chairs he had into the stairwell. The were now only at intervals, and Ross nothing to that his was being forced.
He returned to the and moved it two notches, open-mouthed at the result. The cream-and-brown were making a picture! Moving another the picture to and on the screen. With memories of TV to him, Ross the other to a position, and the and images into clear and complete focus. But the color was still brown, not the black and white he had expected.
Only, he was also looking into a face! Ross swallowed, his hand one of the of chair for support. Perhaps in some it did his own, that was more nonhuman. The on the screen was with a small, pointed and a line at an from a upper face. The skin was dark, with a soft and down, out of which a and nose set two large eyes. On top of that the rose to a not a cockatoo's crest. Yet there was no the in those eyes, the other's at of Ross. They might have been at each other through a window.
Squawk ... ... squawk.... The in the mirror—on the plate—or the window—moved its small mouth in time to those sounds. Ross again and answer.
"Hello." His voice was a weak whistle, and it did not the furry-faced one, for he his questions if questions they were. Meanwhile Ross, over his stupefaction, to see something of the creature's background. Though the objects were out of focus, he was sure he to those about him. He must be in with another ship of the same type and one which was not deserted!
Furry-face had his away to over his shoulder, a which was by a or with an pattern. Then he got up from his seat and to make room for the one he had summoned.
If Furry-face had been a surprise, Ross was now to have another. The man who now him on the screen was totally different. His skin registered as pale—cream-colored—and his was more in shape, though it was as was the of his skull. When one to that egg slickness, the was not bad-looking, and he was a which matched the one Ross had taken from the lifeboat.
This one did not attempt to say anything. Instead, he at Ross long and measuringly, his and less with every second of that examination. Ross had Kelgarries at the project, but the major not match Baldy for the weight of he pack into a look. Ross might have been by Furry-face, but now his to meet this challenge. He himself hard and with an which he would across and prove to Baldy that he would not have his own way if he to with Ross.
His with the on the screen Ross into the hands of those from below. He their attack on the too late. By the time he around, the of seats was up and a gun was pointing at his middle. His hands up in small as that threat him where he was. Two of the fur-clad Reds into the chamber.
Ross the leader as Ashe's double, the man he had across time. He for just an as he Ross and then an order at his companion. The other Murdock around, his hands him to his together. Once again Ross the screen and saw Baldy the whole with an that he had been out of his superiority.
"Ah...." Ross's were at the screen and the man there. Then one himself at the and his hands and forth, to screen and room.
"What are you?" The man who might have been Ashe spoke slowly in the Beaker tongue, Ross with his as if by the of his will alone he the truth out of his prisoner.
"What do you think I am?" Ross countered. He was the of Baldy, and he had with the time owners of this ship. Let that worry the Red!
But they did not try to answer him. At a he was to the stair. To that with his hands him was almost impossible, and they had to pause at the next level to the and let him go free. Keeping a gun on him carefully, they along, trying to push the while Ross all he could. He that in his of the power of the gun in the chamber, his to its threat, he had his origin. So he must continue to the to the project in every possible way left to him. He was sure that this time they would not him in the crevice.
He he was right when they him with a at the entrance to the ship, once more his hands and a on him.
So, they were taking him to their post here. Well, in the post was the time which return him to his own kind. It would be, it must be possible to to that! He gave his no more trouble but trudged, dispirited, along the way through the up the and out of the valley.
He did manage to catch a good look at the globe-ship. More than of it, he judged, was the surface of the ground. To be so it must either have there a long time or, if it were an air vessel, hard to itself that grave. Yet Ross had with another ship like it, and neither of the he had were human, at least not in any way he knew.
Ross on that as he walked. He that those with him were the ship of its cargo, and by its size, that must be a large one. But from where? Made by what hands, what of hands? Enroute to what port? And how had the Reds the ship in the place? There were of questions and very answers. Ross to the that somehow he had the Reds' job here by the of the and calling the attention of its owners to its fate.
He also that the owners might take steps to their property. Baldy had him those moments of appraisal, and he he would not like to be on the end of any from the other. Well, now he had only one chance, to keep the Reds as long as he and for some turn of which would allow him to try for the time transport. How the plate he did not know, but he had been transferred here from the Beaker age and if he return to that time, might be possible. He had only to the river and it to the sea where the was to make at intervals. The were against him, and Ross it. But there was no reason, he decided, to and roll over to the Reds.
As they approached the post Ross how much skill had gone into its construction. It looked as if they were up to the of a tongue. Had it not been for the in the snow, there would have been no to that the ice anything but a thick of its own substance. Ross was through the white-walled to the beyond.
He was through the of rooms to a door and through, his hands still fastened. It was dark in the and than it had been outside. Ross still, waiting for his to to the gloom. It was moments after the door had that he a thud, a and sound.
"Who is here?" he used the Beaker speech, to keep to the of his cover, which was a no longer. There was no reply, but after a pause that again. Ross forward, and by the method of into the walls, that he was in a cell. He also that the noise the left-hand wall, and he with his ear against it, listening. The did not have the regular of a machine in use—there were odd some blows, others came in a quick rain. It was as if someone were digging!
Were the Reds in their headquarters? Having for a time, Ross that, for the was too irregular. It almost as if the longer were used to check up on the result of labor—was it the of the or the of secrecy?
Ross along the wall, his still against it, and rested with his so he the tapping. Meanwhile he his the which them, and his hands as small as possible, to them through the rings. The only result was that he his skin to no advantage. They had not taken off his parka, and in of the about him, he was too warm. Only that part of his by the he had taken from the ship was comfortable; he almost that it some built-in device.
With no of Ross his hands and against the wall, the on his wrists. The had ceased, and this time the pause into so long a period that Ross asleep, his on his chest, his still pushed against the surface him.
He was when he awoke, and with that his into flame. Awkwardly he got to his and along to the door through which he had been thrown, where he to at the barrier. The the of his most of the of those blows, but some noise was outside, for the door opened and Ross one of the guards.
"Food! I want to eat!" He put into the Beaker language all the in him.
The him, in a long arm, and nearly the off balance, him out of the cell. Ross was into another room to what appeared to be a tribunal. Two of the men there he knew—Ashe's and the man who had questioned him in the other time station. The third, one of authority, Ross bleakly.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"Rossa, son of Gurdi. And I would eat I make talk with you. I have not done any that you should me as a who has salt from the post——"
"You are an agent," the leader him dispassionately, "of you will tell us in time. But you shall speak of the ship, of what you there, and why you with the controls.... Wait a moment you refuse, my friend." He his hand from his lap, and once again Ross an automatic. "Ah, I see that you know what I hold—odd knowledge for an Bronze Age trader. And have no about my to use this. I shall not kill you, naturally," the man continued, "but there are which supply a maximum of pain and little damage. Remove his parka, Kirschov."
Once more Ross was unmanacled, the from him. His the he under it. "Now you will tell us what we wish to hear."
There was a in that which Ross; Major Kelgarries had its like. Ashe had it in another degree, and it had been present in Baldy. There was no that the meant what he said. He had at his methods which would from his the full of what he wanted, and there would be no for that the process.
His threat as cold as the air, and Ross to meet it with an of defenses. He to and choose from his information, them to off the inevitable. Hope dies very hard, and Ross having been pushed into long his work at the project, had had in with authority. He would nothing.... Let it be from him word by word! He would it out as long as he and that time might for him.
"You are an agent...."
Ross this as one he would neither deny.
"You came to under the of a trader," smoothly, without pause, the man language in mid-sentence, from the Beaker speech into English.
But long in meeting the with an of complete of was Ross's now. He at his with that bewildered, look he had so long to in his past.
Whether he have out long against the other's skill—for Ross no the type of he now faced—he was to know. Perhaps the that the next moment saved for Ross a measure of self-esteem.
There was a boom, and thunderous. Underneath and around them the floor, walls, and of the room moved as if they had been from their setting of ice and were being rolled about by the thumb and of some giant.
