Chapter 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.

"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.