"Granthan," Kayle said. There was a note of desperation in his voice now. "There have been some blunders made. I knew you were under the influence of the Gool. It didn't occur to me that I might be too. Why did I make it possible for you to successfully penetrate to the Central Vault? There were a hundred simpler ways in which I could have dealt with the problem. We're in trouble, Granthan, serious trouble. The tape you have there is genuine. We've all played into the enemy's hands." "You're wasting valuable time, Kayle," I snapped. "When does the bomb go up?" "Granthan, there's little time left. Bring the Master Tape and leave the vault--" "No dice, Kayle. I'm staying until I finish the transmitter, then--" "Granthan! If there's anything to your mad idea of such a machine, destroy it! Quickly! Don't you see the Gool would only have given you the secret in order to enable you to steal the tape!" I cut him off. In the sudden silence, I heard a distant sound--or had I sensed a thought? I strained outward.... "_... volunteered ... damn fool ... thing on my head is heavy ... better work...._ "_... now ... okay ... valve, gas ... kills in a split second ... then get out...._" I stabbed out, pushed through the obscuring veil of masonry, sensed a man in the computer room, dressed in gray coveralls, a grotesque shield over his head and shoulders. He reached for a red-painted valve-- I struck at his mind, felt him stagger back, fall. I fumbled in his brain, stimulated the sleep center. He sank deep into unconsciousness. I leaned against the table, weak with the reaction. Kayle had almost tricked me that time. * * * * * I reached out again, swept the area with desperate urgency. Far away, I sensed the hazy clutter of many minds, out of range. There was nothing more. The poisonous gas had been the only threat--except the bomb itself. But I had to move fast, before my time ran out, to transmit the bomb to a desert area.... I paused, stood frozen in mid-move. A desert. What desert? The transmitter operated in accordance with as rigid a set of laws as did the planets swinging in their orbits; strange laws, but laws of nature none the less. No receiver was required. The destination of the mass under transmission was determined by the operator, holding in his mind the five-dimensional conceptualization of the target, guiding the action of the machine. And I had no target. I could no more direct the bomb to a desert without a five-fold grasp of its multi-ordinal spatial, temporal, and entropic co-ordinates than I could fire a rifle at a target in the dark. I was like a man with a grenade in his hand, pin pulled--and locked in a cell. I swept the exocosm again, desperately. And caught a thin, live line. I traced it; it cut through the mountain, dived deep underground, crossed the boundless plain.... Never branching, it bored on, turning upward now--and ending.