"No. The power of the mind cannot be amplified--" "I don't mean amplification; I mean an additional source. I have a hyperwave receiver here. With a little rewiring, it'll act as a transmitter. Can we tie it in?" Bram shook his head. "Would that I were a technician," he said. "I know only what is required to operate the device." "Let me take a look," Tremaine said. "Maybe I can figure it out." "Take care. Without it, we fall before the Niss." "I'll be careful." Tremaine went to the machine, examined it, tracing leads, identifying components. "This seems clear enough," he said. "These would be powerful magnets here; they give a sort of pinch effect. And these are refracting-field coils. Simple, and brilliant. With this idea, we could beam hyperwave--" "First let us deal with the Niss!" "Sure." Tremaine looked at Bram. "I think I can link my apparatus to this," he said. "Okay if I try?" "How long?" "It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes." "That leaves little time." "The cycle is tightening," Tremaine said. "I figure the next transmissions ... or attacks ... will come at intervals of under five minutes for several hours now; this may be the last chance." "Then try," said Bram. Tremaine nodded, went to the suitcase, took out tools and a heavy black box, set to work. Linda Carroll sat by Bram's side, speaking softly to him. The minutes passed. "Okay," Tremaine said. "This unit is ready." He went to the Repellor, hesitated a moment, then turned two nuts and removed a cover. "We're off the air," he said. "I hope my formula holds." * * * * * Bram and Miss Carroll watched silently as Tremaine worked. He strung wires, taped junctions, then flipped a switch on the hyperwave set and tuned it, his eyes on the dials of a smaller unit. "Nineteen minutes have passed since the last attack," Bram said. "Make haste." "I'm almost done," Tremaine said. A sharp cry came from the wall. Tremaine jumped. "What the hell makes those sounds?" "They are nothing--mere static. But they warn that the harmonic generators are warming." Bram struggled to his feet. "Now comes the assault." "The shadows!" Miss Carroll cried. Bram sank into the chair, leaned back, his face pale as wax in the faint glow from the wall. The glow grew brighter; the shadows swam into focus. "Hurry, James," Miss Carroll said. "It comes quickly." Bram watched through half-closed eyes. "I must man the Repellor. I...." He fell back in the chair, his head lolling. "Bram!" Miss Carroll cried. Tremaine snapped the cover in place, whirled to the chair, dragged it and its occupant away from the machine, then turned, seized the grips. On the wall the Niss moved in silence, readying the attack. The black-clad figure was visible, climbing to his place. The wall cleared. Tremaine stared across at the narrow room, the gray-clad Niss. They stood now, eyes on him. One pointed. Others erected leathery crests.