A half hour passed and Virginia told Cauldron that the transmission should be about half complete. Moray's body could be seen through faintly--not that any of the internal organs were visible but as if he were a wraith. Then the halfway point came. The floor in Bronson's laboratory was lower than the floor in Virginia Carlson's laboratory--with respect to their transmitters and receivers--and Moray and his chair dropped several feet on both sides. Moray seemed to be unmindful of the fact that the hard floor of Virginia's laboratory was about where his stomach was. A half hour later, there was little of Moray left on Earth Two. Most of him was on Earth One! As the final molecules came through the space resonator Moray heard a noise. Frantic, he turned to see but could do nothing until the last of him was complete. The noise resolved itself to footsteps, and then the door opened and Ed Bronson strode in. "Smoke--" he mumbled sleepily, then, "--who the heck are you!" Moray was complete. He leaped to his feet and clipped Bronson viciously with the side of his hand. Bronson dropped, stunned, dazed, but not unconscious. Deftly, Moray found a roll of tape, bound Bronson's ankles and wrists, slapped a bit of tape across his mouth. "Aid?" sneered Moray. "Promise us aid, all right. Fifty years will pass while the idea is being thrashed out in Congress or in whatever international organization there is here. Behave, Bronson, and you'll live. Help us--understand? If you don't it's--" Moray drew a forefinger across his throat. Another figure started to form--vague and indistinct--and Moray lifted the taped man across his shoulders, carried him upstairs, dumped him across his bed and left him there. When he returned to the laboratory, Virginia was beginning to solidify. Moray seated himself and waited, smoking Bronson's cigarettes and fortifying himself with a drink of Bronson's liquor. Moray smiled, but his humor was bitter. How to marshal an army? It took an hour to get one person through--to pass the six or seven million still living in Earth Three would at this rate take six or seven million hours--a mere eight hundred years if you didn't bother with the extra leap-year days or take Christmas off. * * * * * Time passed slowly and it was the full hour before Virginia came through completely and arose from her chair. "Collect Bronson or kill him?" she asked. "I should have killed him," said Moray. "Not at all," replied Virginia. "Even though this is quite similar to our world remember that thirty years of time separate us--and thirty years each of divergent development. We need someone to show us our way around." Moray shrugged. "He might guess about this factor?"