Chapter III

Kimball's right shoe caught in a burrow and he fell again. This time the expected shock came late; evidently he had been on the brink of a pit of some sort, for his shoulders slammed against the hard ground with an unexpected impact, and he slewed down a long decline. He lay at the bottom for an indefinite period--neither time nor distance had any meaning in this blackness--and then got up again.

Through the steady, muted roaring which had been in his ears ever since he had dropped from the torus coil, a roaring like the sound in a seashell, multiplied to the point of madness, a leathery muttering sound began to grow. He yanked his flashlight from the belt-clip and shot a cone of light upward.

He was rewarded with a ululating, deafening scream, and something winged and huge sheared off from the beam. The muttering of the wings faded again, and with it went a sticky blubbering, like the crying of an idiot child. Sick at his stomach, he pumped a shot after it, and was surprised to hear it scream again.

That would hold them for a while. They weren't very cautious about the automatic, for they seemed to expect that he would score a hit with it only by rare chance; but they hated the flashlight. They'd not try that dive-bombing stunt on him soon again.

He could hear them settling around the rim of the pit. Deliberately he lit a cigarette. For a second he could see the bulky, pasty bodies and the blinded heads arching above him; then they all whispered with agony and drew away out of sight. Even the dim coal of the burning fag was too much for them.

But before long the batteries of the flashlight would be drained, the cigarettes gone, the matches exhausted. When that time came, Kimball knew, he would be torn to tatters, but it didn't bother him much now. He had been almost unconscious with fatigue when the badly-adjusted master machine had dumped him into this nightmare; but the beasts, savage though they were, had been curious. For a while they had questioned him with very little hostility, and had aroused his interest enough to give him second--or had it been twenty-second?--wind. Their upsetting version of telepathy, which projected subtly different emotional states instead of ideas, had awakened him thoroughly.

He had just realized that he had arrived _inside_ the Earth, probably in a space-negative state to boot, when he had felt the urge for a cigarette....

He sighed and stood up. There was no way to tell how long he had been in this midnight universe, but if he could only stick it out until a full twenty-four hours were up, the master machine would act on him again. The faulty windings of its coils would prevent it from returning him to the abandoned grocery as it was supposed to do--but at least it would throw him out of _this_ black, demon-haunted universe.

At his movement, the beasts rustled eagerly back to the rim of the pit, scarcely audible in the mass echo which was as natural to the hollow world as air. He turned on the flashlight, pointing it at the ground--he did not care to hear them all scream at once. There was a thundering flurry of wings above him; then silence.

Doggedly, he began to climb. _Keep moving_, he thought, _you can sleep in your next universe--wherever that'll be_.

The beasts wheeled patiently.

* * * * *

Andreson lay tasting the sensation of being dead for several minutes before he realized that he was hardly even jarred. His eyes were open, but nothing he could see made sense to him. There was no sign of Atel. Lying flat on his back, he looked stupidly upward at a column of soft light that seemed to reach miles into the air, ending in glowing haze. The rock dome had vanished, and in its place was a pattern of gigantic, garish stalactites.

Wait a minute. There _was_ something familiar here--

He rolled over cautiously and found an edge to the mysterious surface he had fallen to. He thrust his head over it and peered downward.

The rock dome was below him, not above! The space-beasts, who reacted to gravity in reverse, had imposed their environment upon the city. Only the solarium platform, which had been directly above where he had been standing on the catwalk, had saved him from mashing against the dome. He wondered if the Varan gunners had been able to hit any of the borers under these conditions. He couldn't hear the buzzing sound--no, wait, there was a single buzzing tone, seemingly far away. Well, two down, anyhow.

A winged figure sailed by below him, its pinions tensely outspread, gulling the air. He shouted at it, but there was no response. He wondered what had happened to Atel. He must have fallen from the catwalk, too, but certainly he couldn't have been hurt--he didn't look like the type to pass out in mid-air. Andreson called again. After a pause, an infinitely remote response came back to him: _Atelatelteltellelellll_....

The echo of his first shout! The Varan must have forgotten about him in the shock of the reversal, and flown off to his post, leaving the Earthman stranded. Andreson knew it was quite possible that he had been deliberately abandoned, but he forced himself not to think about it.

Right now, he had to get off this ledge, and back inside a building. A preferable spot would be Atel's rooms; they were close, and there would be only a short, harmless distance to fall either way, no matter what the warring factions did with the city's gravity. Yet Atel's doorway, so mockingly close, was in reality as good as miles away unless he could figure out something nearly as good as flying!

Suppose he should wait where he was, and fall back to the catwalk when the Varans succeeded in neutralizing the effect? He shuddered. The catwalk was narrow and he might easily miss it. In any case, it might take a long time--the space-beasts seemed to have the edge on the Varans so far, and if they won, he'd starve here. He eyed the wall of the building above him. It was about twenty feet "up" to the catwalk, and no handholds were visible. The top side--now the "under" side--of the solarium platform was no better; all the furniture had long since fallen away, and even had it been still there, bolted to the surface, he'd have thought twice before trying to crawl from couch to couch toward Starstone Chamber's roof. It was a long way to the rock sky.

He risked standing up, hoping that the Varese would not choose this instant to change things around again--if they did, he'd be dumped on his head. The illusion of _downness_ was quite perfect, but it was hard to forget that it was an illusion. His knees wobbled as if he were standing on a pile of telephone books.

After steadying himself against the wall, he made a slow circuit of the tower, stepping over the structural members of the platform cautiously. No doorways here--even a flying people usually enter floors from the top side. Returning, he eyed the upper edge of the catwalk doorway. It was an eight-foot opening, and he was exactly six feet tall; that left a margin of about six feet, which he might be able to jump. He wasn't in very good shape, and the platform didn't offer much of a starting run, but he'd have to chance it.

He backed gingerly to the edge of the platform, hunched, ran, leaped. He struck the glassy wall at full length, and clawed frantically at it--

Missed. The drop back to the deck knocked the wind out of him again, but he got up stubbornly. Crouch ... run ... leap--

* * * * *

His hands latched over the edge of the lintel and closed on it. Drawing his knees up into his waist, he planted his toes and heaved. The first push got his elbows over the edge, and after a long struggle he managed to bend his body over it at the belt. Suspended, he looked dizzily "down" at the inside of the Chamber, his feet dangling in thin air.

It was only an equivalent distance to the bottom side of the inner solarium platform, but he didn't want to go that way. There'd be no sense in rattling aimlessly about the roof of the hall, waiting for his back to be broken across the seats. Somehow, he had to work himself down to the catwalk.

There was no other way but to shinny along the side of the lintel. He swapped ends, so that his legs were now in the Chamber, and took off his shoes and socks with a good deal of difficulty. His feet were sweating--indeed, he was wet all over--so he wiped them with the tops of the socks; then he began precariously to inch himself upward.

By the time he made the bottom side of the catwalk, he was weak with fear, and his clothes were soaked; but he couldn't allow himself any time to recover, for there was now nothing "above" him but the chasm of the city street. He worked his way across on his hands and knees--no matter which way "down" was, this was a thin bridge for an earthbound man, a bridge much more decorative than it was useful--and lowered himself over the edge until he could curl his body around Atel's doorway.

A moment later he was sprawled on Atel's ceiling, amid a litter of the surly Varan's personal effects. He had hardly come to rest when he fainted with a small sigh.

* * * * *

The second flipover of the city's gravity barely jounced him, but it seemed to cause a lot of damage elsewhere. He had just gotten to his feet when a terrific crash rang from the street below, and was followed at once by others in other parts of the metropolis. He went to the catwalk and looked over it--very tentatively, for he was warier than ever of open spaces--but the distance was too great. He guessed that something which hadn't been fastened down when the original reversal took place had just made the return trip.

As he peered, four or five of the winged people stepped from a platform far below his eyrie, and began to mount. Since they were between him and the glowing side of the next building, he did not recognize Atel and Jina among them until they were almost upon him.

As they settled gracefully on the catwalk, he noted with some surprise that they were all armed with a glass-muzzled, pistol-like weapon instead of the usual metal bar; and judging from their expressions, they anticipated trouble.

"I see you weren't killed," Atel said grimly. He seemed a bit disappointed.

"No. But I did a lot of dropping back and forth," Andreson returned acidly. "Why the artillery?"

"These men are members of the Council Guard. They think you're a spy of some sort. They suspect me, too, for forgetting about you during the fighting."

"That's ridiculous!" Jina burst in, her breast pulsing hotly. "They never thought of it until you suggested it!"

"We can't afford to run any risks."

"Who am I spying for?" Andreson demanded. "The beasts? Jina's right--it is ridiculous."

"Yes, the beasts," one of the Guardsmen said flatly. "You're a native of Earth, no matter what your Time, and so are they. You could easily be the vanguard of a raid."

Andreson's temper was already short from the buffeting he had taken. "There's not a shred of evidence for such a theory," he snapped.

"Unfortunately, there is," Atel purred. "We noticed a beast travelling through the foundations of the city, just below the energy barrier, and managed to trap it. We let it get up into a pillar and then energized both ends. We were just about to kill it with hollow slugs when it materialized--the first time the beasts have ever succeeded in doing it, and it's an evil augury."

"Well? I still don't see...."

"_It was an Earthman._"

Andreson's mind nibbled around the edges of the fact. It was startling enough in itself, but he could make little sense of it. How would an Earthman have gotten into the reverse universe? And how at this Time in the dim past?

"Perhaps it's another victim of the gallery," he suggested, frowning. "It never occured to me before, but that infernal place might have been set up deliberately as a time-trap--perhaps by the beasts!"

"Perhaps," the Guardsman said. "But we can see no purpose behind such time-trapping, and Atel's interpretation makes better sense. Come along with us."

Andreson shrugged. "Where to?"

"Starstone Chamber. The Council has been called to vote on what dispensation to make of both of you. Atel--hold his other arm. If the beasts wear down our shield we will all be thrown on our heads again."

The Earthman allowed the Varans to take his elbows without any protest. He had a very vivid picture of himself buttered crimsonly over the inner surface of the rock arching above. _Save the heroics for later_, he thought.

He had imagined a Council meeting as a huge affair, with all the banked chairs filled; but actually there were only about twenty of the Varese present, plus the lone, mysterious Earthman. Andreson scanned the stranger's features eagerly as they approached.

"Well, I'll be damned!" he shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Ken," Kimball said calmly. "I hardly know myself. Read my letter yet?"

"No. Say--are _you_ responsible for that Surrealist trickery back in our own time? I should have guessed it. I ought to push your face in."

"I wouldn't blame you," the scientist agreed. "But I never dreamed you'd hit upon it by accident, before you'd read my note explaining what it was. In the letter I made a date to meet you there, and I arrived a little early. I went out to pick up some supplies, and while I was gone--well--"

"I'll have to let you off this time. You already look a bit damaged, Johnny."

* * * * *

Damaged was hardly the word. Kimball looked as if he had been caught in a cement mixer. His clothes were filthy and cut to ribbons; bloody knees showed through holes in his trousers, he had a long, raw cut across his forehead, and his voice was husky with weariness.

The Varans had listened to the conversation with polite impatience, mixed with suspicion. The Councilman who wore the gem on his forehead, a replica of the giant diamond above them, broke in with an authoritative gesture, waving the group to seats.

"Mr. Kimball has offered us certain explanations," he said. "They seem adequate; it appears that he is the agency of Mr. Andreson's misfortune. But we are losing one battle, and can't afford to take on another. Our major question must be--How can we believe you?"

"One problem at a time," Kimball said. "About your present battle. I've watched your whole history, and I know you're doomed to lose it. This city will be deserted in another century. But it will be an orderly retreat, and will result in the complete extermination of the space-beasts."

Atel's mouth drew down at the corners. "Obviously a fabrication. If we wiped out the beasts, why should we leave?"

"Because you'll wipe them out with matter-bombs, set to fall into their universe in their state, and then explode into yours. The process will cause violent earthquakes on Earth's surface--it'll change the whole climate of the planet, wipe out the giant reptiles, start the tiny mammals on their long upward climb toward the species Ken and I represent. Your civilization wouldn't survive such an upheaval. By the time things have quieted down, you'll be more comfortable on Venus."

There was a small stir of surprise among the Varans. "We already have a small colony on Venus," the Council head admitted in a somewhat friendly voice. "But as things stand now, I cannot see how we can hold them off for the rest of a century!"

"I can help you there. You work on sun-power, right?"

"Yes. The mining of atomic fuels on this savage planet would not be fruitful. But that rock dome over our heads has cut us off, and our stored power will give out shortly. We've already had to cut down on the city's lighting, and we're trying to drill the dome."

"You'll never drill that dome in a thousand years. It's maintained by atomics--it might just as well be pure neutronium for all the dent you'll make in it. I can show you how to build a time-coil. We'll just open a window onto Tomorrow Noon and let the sunlight stream in on your main converter. It's really quite simple once you know the principle."

"By the Jewel! Have you repealed the law of the conservation of energy?"

"Not at all. Just doesn't apply. Energy taken from one Time doesn't alter the total available in the continuum. Here, I'll show you." He pulled out a pencil. "Got any paper? No? Ken, do you still have that letter on you?"

"Here you are," said Andreson, handing it over. "I'm glad it's going to be good for _something_, anyhow."

* * * * *

The besieged city was dark, except for a few furtive gleams far below. On the solarium platform they could see little but the dim shapes of the nearby pinnacles, and the tiny rivers of light quivering on the glassy flanks. Above, the stone cap pressed down heavily. Despite Kimball's time-window into Tomorrow Noon, the confined air was hot, motionless, enervating.

"It's a bad age, Jina," Andreson said. "Full of warfare and misery. I don't think you'd like it."

Jina stirred protestingly beside him. "You paint it in very dark colors, Ken. We have our own war here, and the jungle, the storms, the great reptiles...."

She broke off as a dark figure swooped silently from the depths, passed them, and began to rise more slowly toward the dome. A tiny glow at its head made a red trail in the dimness, and it did not seem to have any wings.

"That must be your friend," the girl murmured, pointing. "See--he has one of those things called cigarettes, that he smokes all the time."

"Yes," said Andreson, not much interested. Since Kimball had arrived, he had been the center of interest among most of the Varans, and Andreson had been allowed to shift for himself. It had taken some persuasion on Johnny's part to get Andreson a copy of the anti-gravity "wings" with which they had equipped the Earth physicist. For a while the neglect had nettled Andreson, and at the moment he definitely did not want to talk to Kimball. Jina interested him a good deal more.

But Jina was still dreaming of her picture of Earth, as it would be millions of years hence. Before Andreson could protest, she leapt into the air and soared after the trailing cigarette glow. He watched, grousing, while the little red spark halted in mid-air and did a short minuet. Finally he stood up, picked up the heavy torpedo of his own levitator, clipped the control box to his belt, climbed into the parachute-harness. A touch of his finger sent him skyward.

"Hello, Ken," Kimball said cheerfully.

"Hello."

"I was just on my way to test the apex of the dome. Seems like we might make a break-through there."

"Soon, I hope."

Kimball dropped his cigarette and watched it fall regretfully toward the distant, almost invisible city. "Not many of those left--I'll be glad to get out of here myself." He lit another. In the brief match-flare, Jina's graceful, wheeling figure became visible like some angelic dream. "Why don't you go back now, Ken? I've already built a gate back to our own time. The Varese don't use much radioactive material, so I had to go back for supplies. You could go through just as simply."

"Yes," said Jina's voice from the blackness. "Why not, Ken?"

"This guy Atel seems to be after your pelt, and you're no match for him in his own environment," Johnny Kimball added. "It isn't as if the Varese needed you. I know the technical aspects of the situation, and I can hold my end up. But you could leave any time."

"Why are you staying?"

"Two reasons. First, I'm not inhuman, and I got handled roughly by the beasts. I'd like to see them smashed. Second, I can't market my time-coil--you can imagine what chaos it'd cause in our world!--but the Varese have promised me this anti-gravity-pack, and that's worth a lot." He waited for an answer, but Andreson didn't see any sense in making one. After a moment his friend sighed. "Well, got to get aloft." The glowing cigarette arced upwards dimming gradually.

Wings pulsed softly past Andreson's cheek. "Why _are_ you staying?" Jina whispered.

He tried to answer, but the moment's hesitation was fatal. The girl arrowed downward, a slim, lovely shadow in the artificial dusk. Her sweet, chiming voice drifted back tauntingly.

"Explain to the beasts!"

For a moment Andreson hung motionless in his harness, keenly aware that he was perhaps the loneliest man since Adam. The city looked like a tinsel toy below him, and all around him was darkness and silence; the nearest human being was the only one within millenia of him, and among the Varese he had just one friend--_maybe_.

Out of the murk a voice called mockingly. "What are you dreaming, Earthman? Or should we say--plotting?"

Andreson recognized the voice for Atel's, but could not place its direction. "I'm on my way to join my friend at the apex of the dome," he said shortly. "I'm not plotting anything, except getting home as soon as possible."

"Oh? That's odd." The Varan's voice roughened, then regained its first silkiness with obvious effort. "I passed Jina on the way up. I thought you two might have been having a talk."

"Suppose we were?" Andreson demanded. "What's that to you?"

The voice was closer now, and its tone was cold and hard. Andreson rested his fingers lightly on the levitator controls, still looking about him in the blackness.

"A great deal to me. When the Council voted to let your scientist accomplice have a free hand, I had to go along. But I still think you're both spies, and up to something dangerous." He paused, and at the same moment Andreson spotted him--circling with silent, outspread wings, about twenty-five feet up from where the Earthman hung. He went right on looking, as if he had seen nothing, turning his head from side to side in apparent bewilderment.

"Follow us around, then, if you have the time to waste," he said. "Two men against a city--you can afford to be brave. The odds are all on your side."

"You ground-grubber," the Varan gritted. "Follow you around--while you corrupt a Varan girl with your lies about the future, and plot to let the beasts in! Do you think I'm such a fool? The Council is blind with sitting so long under the Starstone--but there are still a few of us who can see!"

"What with?" Andreson taunted. "You seem to be all mouth."

With a low snarl of rage, Atel plunged. His powerful wings furled tightly around his body, he dropped straight for the Earthman. In the dim light, Andreson saw his massive right arm reach back to his belt--he was drawing his vacuum club--

* * * * *

Andreson jammed the button home and shot skyward. Inexperience told against him almost at once, for he had drawn the line too fine. His shoulder slammed hard against Atel's, and the bat-winged creature tumbled away from him.

The harness continued to haul Andreson blindly upwards. His collar-bone sent out sharp pains with every movement. It seemed to be broken, or cracked at least. Was Atel--no--there he was, wings thrashing the air as he arrested his fall. The Earthman poked the belt-control again, hovered over his fluttering opponent--two could play at this power-dive game--

Feet first, he arrowed downward, the hot air roaring in his ears. Somehow Atel saw him coming, furled his wings again--

For what seemed an eternity the two fell, the city swelling beneath them from a hazy splotch to a bright quilt, and from that to a glowing cloudy mass. A jabbing finger reversed Andreson's belt, and slowly he began to gain. In the growing light he could see Atel's face, turned up toward him, smiling sardonically.

Then the bat-wings boomed out and Atel was gone, sailing easily around the nearest tower. Andreson saw the thin, transparent thread of a bridge almost upon him, and tried to brake, but it was too late--if he stopped at this speed he'd black out--

The bridge burst under his plummeting feet with the sound of a waterfall of plate glass, and something snapped in his left foot, sending fresh waves of pain through his body. The harness cut into him, yanking against his momentum, and he tried to pull out. At the bottom of his immense plunge he could clearly see figures in the once-distant streets. Then he began to rise again--

Instantly sharp-ribbed wings battered at him, an open hand struck him a terrific blow behind the ear, and a second later something long and steel-hard thudded into his ribs. He was flung forcibly against the side of the nearby building. Only the mechanical obedience of the levitator saved him--it had been set for "up," and it dragged him on up, willy-nilly. A hot liquid oozed down his side from the blow of the vacuum-rod. In a fog of pain he saw Atel banking purposefully for another assault, and clutched at the "Up" control again.

The levitator could climb faster than the Varan could, and Andreson had a moment's respite. Grimly he kept on going, until a growing sense of pressure and heat warned him that the rock dome was near. Should he try to lose himself among the city towers, or yell to Johnny Kimball for help?

His whole heart turned from the thought. His earthly life had not kept him in very good physical shape, but he'd always fought his own battles. It made no difference that his life was the stake of this one. _I'll get him yet_, he thought intensely. _Get him without help--if it kills me._

"Well, Earthman," Atel's voice rang out below. The rock dome sent back a huge echo. "Running already? If Jina could see her hero now!"

For a moment Andreson was about to dive furiously after the Varan again, but he thought better of it. He remembered Johnny's words: "You're no match for him in his own environment." But--

Atel was not fighting another winged man. He was fighting an Earthman with a levitator. That scrap between the buildings--had Atel given such a buffeting to a Varan he would have knocked him and that would have been the end of it. But the levitator couldn't be knocked out, no matter what happened to the man operating it. It wouldn't fall unless it was set to fall.

There was something else, too. Birds fly because they're built for it--among other things they have a huge keel-like breastbone to which their flying muscles are anchored. But bats don't, and Andreson bet that the Varans didn't either. Rodents are ancestrally ground-animals, just like Earthmen, and have to adapt for flying in some other way....

Andreson smiled crookedly. There was only one way to test the idea. He touched the belt again, and the city began to swell beneath him--

Atel glided cautiously out of the way of his fall, then closed in. The Earthman shot off laterally, turned, began a tail-chase. For a few seconds the absurd circling continued, each combatant trying to gain on the other. Then Atel realized that the levitator could drive Andreson faster than he could fly, and spun to face him with a single sweep of his wings.

Andreson made no attempt to stop. He shot directly into the Varan's arms. The vacuum-rod crashed into his injured side again. Gritting his teeth, he grasped Atel around the chest, trying for a half-Nelson. The wings fluttered--the bar thudded home once more--

Then Atel broke free. "Monster!" he gasped.

"What's the matter, Atel?" Andreson shouted raggedly. "Met your match?"

For an answer the Varan shot at him head first, like a gull-winged rocket. Andreson flung himself lengthwise and grappled once more. Atel's body, as he had suspected, was remarkably light, probably hollow boned--and his arms were not nearly as strong as his wings. They simply couldn't be!

This was the death struggle. Fiercely the two strove against each other. Andreson locked one of the flailing legs, steadily forced the great body back. He had one hand free for a split second, and he grasped the belt-control--

The garish glow of the city began to brighten at an alarming rate. Atel's hands fastened upon the Earthman's throat; Andreson pried weakly at them, but he had already lost too much blood to be able to free himself with one hand. He clung doggedly to the belt-control with the other. The city grew and grew--the blood pounded in his head, and his lungs burned like twin sacs of acid--the pillars of cold fire that were the city's towers flowed past him, blurring rapidly--

At the last instant Atel realized what was happening. A scream of terror was whipped from his mouth into the slip-stream, and he released Andreson's throat to claw frantically at the hand on the belt-control--

But it had been too late seconds ago. Andreson let go of him entirely, kicked himself free, began to brake. The Varan spread his wings--and lost his life. The right pinion snapped back and broke at once. The vanes on the left somehow withstood the blast, but the membrane between them could not--in a split second the living fabric was bloody tatters. Atel's body slammed itself to jelly against the bright Earth.

Dizzy and sick, Andreson concentrated on cutting down the terrific velocity the levitator had built up. He succeeded fairly well, though he broke the other foot when he struck.

The levitator held him upright, swaying. A cloud of winged creatures gathered around him. One of them he thought he recognized.

"Jina--"

"Yes--Ken--we saw most of the fighting--how--"

"I outflew him," he said proudly, and then passed out for the third time.

* * * * *

Johnny Kimball peered out the door of the chamber the Varans had assigned as his laboratory, and grinned. "Quite a formal farewell committee coming across the bridge," he said. "Looks like the whole Council's in it."

He looked Andreson over critically. "For a while I was afraid they'd turn out to be Indian-givers on the levitator deal," he added, "but I must say you threw yourself into the job of protecting our interests. Look at you! Both feet bandaged, chest bound, right shoulder strapped up--if ever a man needed a levitator, you do!"

"Ah, dry up," Andreson growled. "How near through are you?"

"Almost. I'm not trying to hit the gallery, though it might be easier that way." Suddenly he became serious. "I'll tell you what, Ken. It's a new life we're going back to--a life where you and I can look back into the past whenever we want, and visit it, too, if we keep quiet about it. And it's a new world we're going back to, a world which is going to be given the levitator. That means free flight--not just flight in machines, but real flight, where one man can fly whenever, wherever he wants, without having to board a plane or pay a fare. And space-travel, and no heavy lifting for the housewife, and--"

"Get to the point."

Kimball looked a bit crestfallen. "I thought you'd understand how I felt. Well, I couldn't see going back to the old world at the same spot we left it. I had a new apartment rented when I left, that I'd never been in--hasn't even got any furniture in it. I want to put the Time-window through into there. A fresh start."

Andreson nodded. "A good idea, Johnny. But--make it quick."

Along the sunlit bridge the delegation of Varans walked ceremoniously. In the vanguard was a lovely shape, like an exquisite butterfly. Kimball looked out the door again and saw her. With a slight smile he left the room; Andreson didn't notice.

"Farewell, Ken."

"Farewell, Jina, I'm sorry to go."

There was a brief, stiff silence, and then she was in his arms, sobbing bitterly.

"Ken--why, why?"

He swallowed. "Do you remember, up there on the solarium ledge before the rock dome was destroyed--remember I said I had a question I had to answer?"

"Yes ... what--was it?"

"Just this: _Can Earth and Air mix?_ There's a legend in my time that few people understand, but I think I understand it. It's the story of Lilith, queen of Air and Darkness. She fought with Satan and God alike for the Earth, but she lost, because she was not part of their universe. It's the same with me. What part could I play in a time not my own, among people who live in the air?"

The girl did not move or answer. Steadily he went on: "Besides--there's a gap between us greater than parsecs or centuries. Look." He took her hand in his, held it up. The delicate, four-fingered limb made his own five stubby fingers look lumpy and misshapen. "We have no future together, Jina. We seem alike, but we're not. The apes are my cousins; the bats are yours. You should stay with your own race, and have the children I could never give you. We have no real happiness to give each other."

She drew back and squared her shoulders proudly, though her eyes still brimmed with tears. "You are right," she said. "Go back, then! But I extract one promise before you go."

He inclined his head. "Whatever I can do."

"You have the time-coil, and can visit any age you wish. Promise me--that you'll never come to this one again."

He said softly, "I promise, Jina."

Her first soft kiss was her last. The next instant, it was as if she had never been.

"Ready, Ken?"

The time-coil throbbed once, and then the glass-walled chamber was empty in the red sunlight.