"You would find it impossible to tell them from men - they are cunning enough to avoid being X-rayed or mangled in accidents.
But I know them.
That's one thing I've learned, for all my failures. I've trained myself to sense the rhodomagnetic energy that operates them."
Forester shook his head, incredulous and yet appalled.
"They're already here," the big man insisted.
"And Ash Overstreet says Mason Horn's report is going to be the signal for them to strike.
That leaves us no more time for bungling.
To stop them at all, we must grasp every device we can.
That's why we need rhodomagnetic engineers."
Forester stood up uncertainly.
"I don't quite see-"
"Those machines are rhodomagnetic," White's great voice broke in.
"They are all operated by remote control, on beamed rhodomagnetic power, from a central relay grid on Wing IV.
They must be attacked, somehow, through that grid - because they can replace one lost unit, or a billion of them, without feeling any harm.
Now, unfortunately I've no head for higher math, and old Mansfield failed to teach me more than the rudiments of rhodomagnetics.
So that's where you come in."
The deep voice tightened. "Will you join us?"
Kicking uncomfortably at the timber where he had sat, Forester hesitated for half a second.
He was fascinated against his will by the possibility that White and his dubious disciples had stumbled into a new field of science, but he shook his head uneasily.
If all this were true - if Mason Horn were really coming back to report that Triplanet scientists had perfected mass- conversion weapons - then he should be back at his own project, standing by for a Red Alert.
"Sorry," he said stiffly. "Can't do it."
White didn't argue.
Oddly, instead, as if he had expected the refusal, he turned immediately to Ironsmith, who still sat beside Jane Carter at the fire, listening with a calm attention.
"Ironsmith, will you stay with us?"
Forester caught his breath, watching narrowly.
If the clerk chose to stay, that might mean that he was already an accomplice of White's.
It might even mean that he had helped old Graystone the Great stage the expert illusion of the little girl's visit to the project - if that could have been any sort of trick.
But Ironsmith shook his sandy head.
"I can't see what's so bad about those mechanicals," he protested mildly. "Not from anything I heard you say.
After all, they're nothing but machines, doing what they were designed for.
If they can actually abolish war, I'd be glad to see them come."
"They're already here!" Savagely harsh, White's voice forgot to drawl.
"Overstreet told me you wouldn't help us now, but at least you are warned.
I think you'll change your mind when you meet the humanoids."
"Might be." Ironsmith met his ruthless glare with a pink and affable grin.
"But I don't think so." "Anyhow, there's something you can do."
White swung impatiently back to Forester, as if stung by Ironsmith's calm.
"You can warn the nation of those humanoid spies infiltrating your defenses, and those invincible ships already on their way from Wing IV with mechanicals enough to take over the planet.
As scientific adviser to the Defense Authority, perhaps you can delay the invasion long enough-"
White broke off suddenly, with an inquiring glance at Ash Overstreet.
The short man had stirred on the rock where he sat.
His dim eyes stared vacantly at the dark stone walls, but the tilt of his head had a curious new alertness.
"It's time for him to go." The clairvoyant nodded heavily at Forester.
"Because his men are getting nervous, out there with their rocket gun.
They imagine we're Triplanet agents, and they're about ready to blow us up."
Chapter EIGHT
FORESTER PEERED at his watch and darted out of that dark room without ceremony.
Outside the tower, he began frantically waving his hat, hoping that Armstrong and Dodge could see him through the drifting fog.
Behind him, he heard Ironsmith taking a more deliberate leave.
Little Jane Carter laughed with pleasure, and then he heard her voice: