The next two days were frantic, filled with intensive studies. Charles had always envied people who could assimilate knowledge quickly, and was more than a little surprised that he was actually able to keep up. He became adept at putting together the tiny nuclear bomb the team would be taking into the dome, and discovered that he had a distinct aptitude for solving logic problems. Though little time had been specifically set aside for the members of the team to get to know each other, Charles found himself becoming more relaxed in their company as they worked and learned together. He didn't consider them friends, of course—true friendships had been few and far between for him—but he no longer feared them as enemies, either. On the whole, that was already more than he'd hoped for.
All too soon, it was time. A midnight plane ride—with Dennis gurgling excitedly at the stars overhead—and a short drive brought the team to a line of grim-faced soldiers patrolling the deserted San Bernadino streets. A major pointed the way and offered good luck.
The first twenty steps were the hardest, at least for Charles. He felt as if he were walking through a mine field: never knowing when it would happen; wondering if it would hurt or not; almost hurrying so as to get it over with. Compulsively, he found himself counting the steps: nineteen, twenty, twenty- one—
And with the suddenness of a light switch a red haze seemed to drop over his vision, and all thoughts fled before the overpowering desire to get into the dome. He broke into a run, dimly aware of the others but incapable of taking the slightest interest in them. The buildings around him were gray fog; but as he rounded one last corner a burst of color assaulted his senses. It was the dome, as bright and eye- catching as the finest sunset he'd ever seen and utterly irresistible. The triangular entrance beckoned; lowering his head he increased his speed. Ninety seconds later, he was inside.
—
"Well," Arthur said aloud, his words coming in short bursts as his wind slowly returned, "that was... quite a race. Everyone... okay?"
"Yeah," Frank said.
"I feel fine," Susan replied. "Dennis?"
"Wow! These roofs are really high," Dennis chirped, oblivious to the others' conversation. "Can we go up there?"
"Ceilings, kid, not roofs," Frank growled. "Let's get movin' before someone comes along, huh?"
"Can we go up there?" Dennis repeated, more insistent this time.
"Not just now," Arthur said. The catwalks twenty feet above them were far too high for his taste. "Maybe later." He looked back down quickly and glanced around the room they'd wound up in. The walls were lined with pipes and strangely shaped machinery, but he could see what looked like a pair of doors in the far wall. "Looks like that's the way deeper in," he said.
"Wait a minute," Susan cut in. "Charles? Charles, are you okay?"
"I... I think they got me," Charles murmured. "I'm sorry."
"Damn!" Frank growled.
"Okay, relax," Arthur said, trying to keep his excitement from showing. He could be leader now! "Are you going to be fighting us, Charles, or are you just going to be deadweight from now on?" "I don't know. I don't feel like shouting out the truth or anything. I just feel like doing what... I guess it's what they told me to do when we came in."
"Well, that'll do for now, I suppose. If it changes, let me know fast and we'll either sit on you or try to work around your conditioning. Now, what exactly—"
"Wait a second," Frank cut in. "Who died and left you in charge?"
"This is the pecking order Lee gave us, remember?" Arthur said. "Charles first, then me. Then you."
"Yeah, but—"
"Then it's settled. Dennis, stop that whimpering."
"Is Charles sick?" Dennis asked anxiously, his voice trembling.
"Oh, for—Susan, explain it to him, will you? We've got to get moving. Charles, what exactly did they tell you to do?"
"I'm supposed to go through the left door up there, down a corridor, right at the second cross-corridor—"
"Hold it," Arthur interrupted. "Does all this take us further in or just around the edge of the dome?"
"Uh... I think all the way to the center."
"Then let's just go. What happens when we get to the center?"
"I'll be helping to put together some kind of machine."
The door opened into a narrow corridor. Glancing up, Arthur noted that the catwalks from the room extended over the corridor as well, passing through the six-foot gap between the tops of the walls and the arched ceiling. Would there be guards posted up there?
"This doesn't make any sense at all," Susan complained as they started down the corridor. "Why should the creatures who live in here need people to help build their machines?"
"Maybe they don't know how," Dennis suggested.
"Then how's Charles supposed to figure it out?" Frank snorted. "More likely
they're all dead."
"Dead?" Susan sounded appalled.
"Or else never here," Arthur mused. "I didn't notice any effort to filter the air at the entrance. What kind of alien would be stupid enough to risk breathing our germs?"
"Then who's running this thing?" Frank argued. "Some kind of computer?"
"Why not?"
"Because whoever built it should have made sure it could repair itself," Susan said.
"Damn it, Susan, lemme handle my own fights," Frank snapped.
"Don't you swear at me" she returned icily.
"All right, everyone, take it easy," Arthur put in, desperately trying to hold things together. "Looks like we're coming into a main room up here. Everybody stay alert and look for a good place to plant the bomb."
The final door opened, and the sight behind it silenced even Frank. The room was huge—covering perhaps a quarter of the dome's floor area—and stocked with a bewildering collection of machines and what could only be the aliens' equivalent of electronic equipment. The other trapped humans were there, too, working at various tasks with a diligence uncomfortably reminiscent of ants. There was no talking or other obvious communication; it wasn't even clear whether the laborers were aware of each other's presence. And in the center of the room—
A miniature version of the dome itself.
Dennis was the first to say anything. "Wow! This is neat!"
"What the hell is this?" Frank asked, bewilderment in his voice. "Some kinda Chinese puzzle box?"
"You're thinking of Russian dolls, I think," Arthur corrected absently. "I don't think there are more than just these two, though—that little one's barely twenty feet tall; I'd guess."
"They're certainly paying a lot of attention to it," Susan pointed out.
Even as she spoke, a group of five people left one of the machines carrying a small device they had apparently been building there. Maneuvering it carefully, they worked it through the outsized triangular door of the smaller dome and disappeared inside.
"Wonder what that was," Arthur muttered.
"One of those," Dennis piped up, pointing to one of the machines lining the room's walk.
"Shut up," Frank growled. "No, wait—he's right," Susan said. "See? It was a smaller version of that machine; same shape and color pattern." Abruptly, she caught her breath. "They're making a baby dome."
"Uh, excuse me," Charles spoke up into the silence, "but I'm supposed to help with something over across the room."
"Okay," Arthur said, making a quick decision. "Let's do it. You just go ahead and take the lead."