"What?" Frank snapped. "The hell with this. Let's just drop the bomb someplace and get outta here."
"What about the other people?" Susan asked.
"Hell with 'em."
"Absolutely not." Susan's voice left no room for argument. "They're not here of their own free will. We aren't just going to leave them to die."
"Besides which," Arthur said, overriding Frank's comeback, "we've got another little problem here. If that dome's made of the same stuff as the big one, we're going to have to put a bomb inside it if we want to be sure of knocking it out."
"So?"
"Don't be stupider than you have to, Frank," Arthur snapped, suddenly tired of him. "We also need a bomb out here... and we only have one. So until we come up with an idea, we've got to stay as inconspicuous as possible."
They reached the target machine a minute later, and their first close look at the human workers elicited gasps from Susan and Dennis and a curse from Frank. Two of the four people working over the machine looked like refugees of the Nazi starvation camps: gaunt and pallid, with thin arms and sunken cheeks. The other two weren't in much better shape.
"Colonel Lee said some of the people had been in here since the dome appeared," Susan said in a choked voice. "That's nearly twelve days ago."
"Maybe the dome doesn't know enough to feed them," Arthur suggested, feeling slightly sickened. "Still... I suppose that's good, in a way. It means the dome can't read minds."
"Arthur, we've got to get this over with as soon as possible," Susan said. "These people need medical attention right away."
"If you can suggest a way to make one bomb into two," Arthur grunted, "I'd be happy to do so." "Well, why don't you just find one of the agents Colonel Lee said had come in and take his bomb?"
There was a short pause. "That's easy to say," Frank grumbled, sounding impressed in spite of himself. "But how are we gonna find any of 'em in this crowd?"
"Hell be wearing street clothing, for one thing," Susan pointed out. "At least half these people are in pajamas and nightgowns. We could just... well, frisk all the possibilities."
"Let's try just looking at their clothing to start with," Arthur suggested. "Everyone here's lost a lot of weight, and their clothes are hanging unnaturally. Check for any extra bulges or the kind of wrinkle lines you get with something heavy in your pocket."
The casual stroll around the room took several minutes, and it was Dennis who spotted it first. "Over there!" he bubbled excitedly. "Under his arm—see? I found him!"
"Looks like it, awright," Frank said. "Lemme get it—he might put up a fight."
"Frank!" Susan snapped. "Don't you dare—"
"He'll do what he has to, Susan," Arthur cut in brusquely. "Frank has a job to do here, just like the rest of us. Let's do it." Without waiting for comments he headed toward the other man, pleased with his last speech. All good leaders, he knew, should know how to be eloquent when necessary.
As it turned out, both his speech and Susan's fears were for nothing. The agent kept at his job, offering no resistance as Frank lifted his coat and relieved him of the innocent-looking black box.
"Half-hour delay," Frank muttered, peering at the lettering by the uncrimped metal tube that held the bomb's chemical fuse. "Not any better than ours."
"Yeah," Arthur agreed. "Well... let's get ours put together. Then we'll figure out how to get one into the little dome—yes, Charles, what is it?"
"I've got to get back," Charles said, a hint of desperation sounding clearly in his voice. "I've got work to do—back at my machine—"
"Hey, hey, hey—don't go nuts on us now." Arthur thought quickly. "Frank, give me a hand here—we've got to hang onto him. Susan, get that bomb assembled, pronto. Charles, you just try to relax—or struggle, if that makes you feel any better."
"I'm... trying... to fight it," Charles whispered. "It's... strong...." "Susan!" Arthur snapped. "Hurry up."
"Almost done," Susan said, an island of calm in the tension. "We still haven't figured out how we're going to get these people out of here, though."
"Forget... 'em," Frank managed.
"Is Charles sick again?" Dennis spoke up timidly.
"He'll be all right," Susan soothed. "The machines in the dome are trying to make him do something he doesn't want to do."
"Can't you make them stop?"
"I'm afraid—Dennis, that's it!" Susan interrupted herself abruptly. "Arthur— all we have to do is to find and shut off whatever machine's doing this to Charles and the others. In fact, we don't really have to destroy anything else."
"The hell we don't." Without warning, Frank snatched a nutcrackerlike tool from a man at a nearby machine. Before any of the others could act, he'd crimped the fuses on both bombs.
"Frank!" Arthur all but bellowed. "Why did you do that?"
" 'Cause we can't hold onto Charles forever," the other snarled. "What if he gets loose and gets all of us killed? I sure as hell wanna take this damn dome with me when I go."
"Frank, when are you going to stop thinking with your fists?" Susan groaned, her anger already turned to resignation. "Why must you always put things in terms of fighting?"
"Are we gonna plant these or not?" Frank asked impatiently, ignoring her.
"Of course we are," Arthur said. "There—that group heading toward the little dome. We'll put one of the bombs on top of that console they're carrying and make sure none of them tosses it off. The other one can be put down anywhere out here."
If the group of workers so much as noticed Frank adding the flat box to their burden, they gave no sign. Disappearing into the small dome, they emerged a few minutes later empty-handed. Frank didn't wait for further instructions, but simply shoved the second bomb under the nearest machine.
"Now," Arthur said, trying not to show his tension, "we've got just twenty- five minutes to find that hypnosis machine and get out of here." He took a long, sweeping look around the room, and for the first time the enormity of that task hit him. There were literally hundreds of instruments lining the walls, not even counting the freestanding ones scattered around. How were they going to find the right one?
"This is ridiculous," Frank said. "What're we supposed to do, smash everything in sight?"
"No," Charles gasped. "It's easier than that."
"What is it, Charles?" Arthur asked, suddenly alert. Charles, after all, had a sort of inside track here. "You know which one it is?"
"No. But—" He halted, as if having to fight out the words. "The people here... building and... and fixing things. We're not... working like we're... supposed to."
And suddenly Arthur understood. "Aha! Got it!" He scanned the room again, and this time he saw it. "Over there, on the wall—that gadget with eight people working on it. Let's go."
"But how do you know that's the right one?" Susan asked.
"Because no one was working over there when we first came in."
"Huh?" Frank asked.
"It's really very simple." Arthur grinned tightly. "We're not doing what we're supposed to; therefore, the hypnosis gadget must have developed a fault—and therefore, the dome's started getting people over there to try and fix it."
The workers had the instrument's cover off by the time Frank began shoving through the group. For the first time there was resistance to his advance, as if the dome had belatedly recognized the magnitude of the threat and was trying to counter it. But long starvation had left far too little strength to the men, and Frank brushed them aside as if they were children. Seizing the heaviest tool within reach, he began flailing about at the exposed circuitry. His first three blows seemed to have no effect; but at the fourth—