"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."
"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."