The Time Trap by Henry Kuttner Read Free Book Online Page A

Rather a food, neutralizing the toxins of weariness.”
    Mason drank. His fatigue dropped from him.
    The Master made no reference to Alasa’s escape, if he knew of it, which Mason did not think likely. He arose on his bowed legs.
    “Now we shall begin!”
    The ordeal started. And it was a racking and cruel one; Mason’s brain had never worked so fast, and, despite the energizing effect of the liquid, a dull headache began to oppress him. He could only guess at much of the nature of the work he did. Remembering Erech’s command, he tried to memorize his activities and those of Greddar Klon.
    Under the Master’s direction he moved levers, spun wheels, sent light-rays impinging on huge machines. From time to time, at the dwarf’s dictation, he made cryptic notations with a stylus upon a camera-shaped device on which a scroll was wound—a variation on a notebook. And, as Mason worked, a trickle of knowledge crept into his brain. He began to understand some of the machines and powers of the Master of Al Bekr.
    Several times he had attempted to hand objects to the dwarf, and had felt an invisible solid repel his hands—a shell of energy, Greddar Klon explained, which protected him from danger. “An atomic mesh guarding my body, through the interstices of which I can breathe, but which cannot be penetrated otherwise—by weapons or rays.” The cold eyes examined Mason impassively.
    Remembering the spear that had rebounded from this invisible armor, the archeologist realized its necessity. And, as they worked, Mason noticed several of the transparent ovoids about, similar to the one which had imprisoned Alasa. Several were large, fully twenty feet long. “I use them for aerial travel when I have need to leave Al Bekr,” the dwarf said.
    One thing Mason learned was that the air pressure within these ovoids could be controlled—increased or decreased. This he remembered, though at the time he did not realize the importance of the device.
    “I have given the barbarians of Al Bekr comforts they never knew before,” Greddar Klon said. “Of course, I built the city for my own comfort primarily, while I was working on my projector. But they will still have it when I’m gone, though they’ll be unable to actuate the machines. Come.”
    He led the way to one of the ovoids—twenty feet long, of opaque silvery metal. Greddar Klon touched a stud, and a disk-shaped door swung open. He motioned Mason within, followed him. As he turned to the instrument panel Mason watched his movements closely. The walls of the ship shimmered, faded—became shadowy, transparent. The ovoid lifted, drove up.
    They raced up swiftly beside the giant pillars. At their summit, between them, a platform had been constructed, and on this the ship alighted. At a dizzy height above the floor the work continued, amazingly intricate adjustments and calculations which Mason did his best to understand. And presently the dwarf, his voice emotionless as ever, announced, “It is finished. There remains only one thing.”
    The two were within the ship, but now Greddar Klon opened the port. He pointed to a lever on the platform a dozen feet away. “Pull that over. Then return—swiftly!”
    Mason obeyed. As he returned to the ship he caught a fleeting glance from the Master, curiously veiled, and wondered. The dwarf said, “I have improved my original projector. Watch.”
    Silently a pale shimmer of white flame began to spread in empty air between the summits of the green towers. Glowing filaments and tentacles, like tatters of some huge curtain, danced and fluttered, spreading, ever closing the gap between the monoliths. The green light faded, fled back. In the white glare distorted shadows marched grotesquely on the distant walls.
    “Before—I guessed at my destination in time. Now I can control it. The energy of the projector is being transmitted to this ship, giving it the power to move in time.”
    Now the white curtain was unbroken, flaming all around