He put his big hand on Maxwell's wrist, and Maxwell felt the power that flowed from him. Almost hypnotically he knew he never would be able to. He was aware his mind was being schooled in what to remember. "All right," said Maxwell. A curious complexity of emotions boiled inside him--anger and petulance, curiosity and something else, deeper down: a vague, objectless fear. "Go ahead." The Beachcomber talked. After a few minutes he seemed almost to forget Maxwell; he stared out across the silver sea, and Maxwell, half hypnotized by the deep, resonant voice, watched his hawklike profile in silence. Dimly, he saw the universe the Beachcomber spoke of: a universe of Men set free. Over that inconceivable gap of time that stretched between Maxwell's time and theirs, they had purged themselves of all their frailties. Maxwell saw them striding among the stars, as much at home in the pitiless void as on the verdant planets they loved. He saw them tall and faultless and strong, handsome men and beautiful women, all with the power that glowed in the Beachcomber, but without a hint of his sadness. * * * * * He tried to imagine what the daily life of those people must be like, and couldn't; it was three million years beyond his comprehension. But when he looked at the Beachcomber's face, he knew that the last men were human beings like himself, capable of love, hate, and despair. "We had mating customs that would seem peculiar to you," said the Beachcomber after a while. "Like elephants--because we were so long-lived, you know. We--married--late, and it was for life. My marriage was about to take place when we found the enemy." "The enemy?" said Maxwell. "But--didn't you say you were the only dominant life-form in the whole universe?" "That's right." The Beachcomber outlined an egg-shaped figure with a motion of his cupped hands, caressingly. "The universe; all of it. Everything that existed in this space. It was all ours. But the enemy didn't come from this universe." "Another dimension?" Maxwell asked. The Beachcomber looked puzzled. "Another--" he said, and stopped. "I thought I could say it better than that in English, but I can't. Dimension isn't right--call it another time-line; that's a little closer." "Another universe like ours, co-existent with this one, anyhow," said Maxwell. "No--not the same as ours, at all. Different laws, different--" he stopped again. "Well, can you describe the enemy?" "Ugly," said the Beachcomber promptly. "We'd been searching other--dimensions, if you want to use that word--for thousands of years, and this was the first intelligent race we found. We hated them on sight." He paused. "If I drew you a picture, it would look like a little spiny cylinder. But a picture wouldn't convey it. I can't explain." His mouth contracted with distaste. "Go on," said Maxwell. "What happened? They invaded you?"