them. I think something's coming through."
They must have been concentrating on the occupants of the craft, for even he could feel it without effort, and to the psychologically trained and sensitive Amters it came as a buffeting blow. "Come out!" was the message, sent with deadly dull insistence and power. "Come out! Come out! Come out!"
Angel pocketed his guns. "We'd better," he said. "If ï make no mistake these people can back themselves up. And if they had any intention of destroying us right out I think they could have done it."
The seven Amters and Angel filed from the ship into the chill, sweetish air of the dim plain. The grey lumps surrounded them, confronting Angel. He studied the creatures and saw that they had rudimentary features. As he guessed at their evolution they must be the end-product of an intensely intellectual and emotional race. All this, of course, subject to alteration by the unguessable influence of their surroundings.
The stolid, battering thought-weaves came again. "Mr. Sapphire told us of you. He has threatened us and we know that he is powerful. We shall hold you for his disposal He said that you were swifter than he but not as powerful and we should not fear you. If you do not wish us to believe that you must prove otherwise."
"Ask him," Angel said to Jackson, "how Mr. Sapphire threatened them."
Jackson knit his brows and Maclure could feel "the pulsing communication. Promptly the creatures answered: "He locked us into time. He is very wise and knows things about time that we do not."
They were either primitive or degenerate, thought Maclure, and probably the latter from their advanced physical make-up. Perhaps he could try the time stunt himself. He whipped out a minute set of tools and selected a fairly complicated little projector. He varied the pitch of its lenses and filaments rapidly and addressed the creatures directly: "As Mr. Sapphire has done I can too. See!"
He snapped on the device, praying that his estimate of the natural properties of this half-world had not gone awry. And he had not prayed in vain, for all those creatures whom the little beam of ionized air impinged on froze stiffly into a full-fledged stoppage in time. "Let Mr. Sapphire beat that!" he grunted, releasing them.
Crash! The titanic detonation
of a trinite bomb shattered the
ground a half-mile away into a soft-spreading
fog. Through the trembling
air there spread the terrible
whisper of the master of Morlens:
"Can and will, Angel! I warned you.
You were faster, but I got to them
first. Look up!"
Above them was hanging a sister-craft to the Memnon, but a sickly green in hue. Said Sapphire: "Do not move or I shall release the second bomb. You underestimated these good people of mine. They are the Grey Watchers of the Silence. They are the ones to whom hate is all, and who will aid no good. With their aid I located you in your little display and with their aid I reached this world only a moment after you. And with their aid I shall become master of the Center, Angel Maclure. Now speak if you wish."
"Muscles," prayed the Angel, "do your damndest!" Acting independently his two hands leaped from his
