Devon whispered to Kennely, "Are we dreaming, or just crazy? This doesn't happen to a couple of solder slingers like us."
"We're neither — and it is happening to us," Kennely said with a fierce exultation that Devon did not comprehend.
"What kind of a cargo is this?" Kennely asked Tarman.
"I don't know, except that it's a piece of machinery known as an engine coordinator. It is used in large industrial plants to guide the processes of a large number of machines. In some manner the plans are scanned within the machine and the shop tools are guided in producing the equipment in the approved technical manner, which has been worked out and set into the engine coordinator. Much repetitive engineering is saved because mere rough sketches can sometimes be used to produce finished machines of great complexity. The technical details are already stored in the coordinator. Levitation and tractor fields are, of course, generated to handle materials.
"Will you please release our cargo, now?"
"I'm not so sure we want to release it," said Kennely slowly.
Tarman's face went white. "You mean you would attempt to steal it?"
"That's a rough word," said Kennely. "Say, rather, that we'd analyze this machine so that we could duplicate it. Allowing us access to these principles should be fair reward for our return of it."
"That's blackmail! This cargo was due a week ago. We're already paying heavy penalty to the Black Machine Company for nondelivery."
"I'm afraid you're being rather ungenerous. If we hadn't disturbed the box you never would have found it — so you say."
Croul shook his head and looked at his superior. "I understand now why the antique eras are forbidden. Such barbarous relationships —"
"Croul, can't we possibly work through their radiations?"
The technician shook his head. "It's almost impossible to get it into focus. We might remove chunks of the local impedimentia without coming anywhere near the cargo."
"I'm sure we needn't be too concerned about that in view of the attitude the natives have taken. Try it."
"I wonder what radiation they are talking about?" said Devon.
"Maybe the microwave set that Calvert has got on life test upstairs. It's so full of bugs that radiation has been leaking all over for the last two weeks. Everybody's kicking about it. If that's what's keeping this gadget here, we'd better get a proper antenna and spray the place with radiation."
"You're thinking the same thing I am!" said Devon. "If we could copy this machine loaded with the techniques of maybe a thousand years from now — what a position we'd be in to open our own business! Hook it up to a shopful of tools and feed in rough blueprints and watch it turn out miracles — like a weather forecaster and a new type color television. We can't let this get away from us!"
"The levitation and tractor fields." said Kennely thoughtfully. "That would explain why it quit working as soon as we came near. Automatic safeguards for the operator."
They noticed now for the first time that they were looking at some kind of a projection of the strangers out of time, rather than at the men themselves. The projection seemed to include the image of some kind of technical plant which the engineers supposed was the equipment involved in transport through time and space.
The figures began to move around before the complex panels.
Kennely said, "Come on. Let's get this Alladin's Lamp opened up."
As they began ripping the crate apart, Tarman gave one last despairing cry. "Stop it, you fiends!"
The engineers continued. They observed that the multitude of silver threads all disappeared through cracks in the crate and disappeared within the black mass of the machine within.
"I'll bet that's a new method of wiring," said Kennely. "It looks as if our friends of the future simply place a machine near other machines and it hooks itself up like a spider spinning a web. Since this is a controlling device for shop machines such as ours, it automatically wired itself up and went to work. Perhaps some jolting due to the mishap of landing here switched on the initial circuits.
"Machines that spin their own hookup wiring! But you must be right," said Devon incredulously.
Suddenly, there was a whine in the air, like the scream of a shell overhead. The engineers instinctively ducked, then the very earth upon which the plant was built seemed to rock.
The engineers turned slowly, fearful of seeing the walls crumple about them.
Devon pointed towards Mac's pride, the giant brake. "Look!"
Kennely stood agape. Half the brake was gone, sheared cleanly away, and there was a ten-foot hole in the earth beneath the floor.
"They play rough and potent," he said. "Mac is going to feel bad."
"Mac! What about us! Look what would happen if they caught us half in and half out of that electronic cheese knife!"
"I think we'll be safe if we stick close to the gadget. That seems to be the point they can't hit because of Calvert's microwaves."
"But what if they should hit it? Where would we be? Brian! Where would we be? If this machine is only a single example of the science of the future, think where we'd be if we could go there and study. Let's make a deal with them. If they'll take us there, we'll let the machine go back."
Kennely shook his head decisively. "No. Absolutely not. It's too dangerous. We know nothing of the time transport machine. Maybe it can't carry live cargo. And I don't trust that guy, Tarman. He'd be just as likely as not to accept the offer, knowing that we'd come through crisped to cinders. I wouldn't want my neck in his noose for anything. We'll figure out some way to get this machine. That will be big enough jackpot for us."
"And you're the guy that's been shot at by Chinese bandits, South American Indians armed with poison arrow blowpipes, and by Jap fighter planes!"
"Exactly. That's why I say this is too dangerous."
They returned to the attack on the packing case.
"Give me a hand here," said Kennely. "These nails they use are something, too. They expand like fish hooks. Must be a trick of closing them to get them out —"
A second shrilling in the air turned them about. Slowly, as if dissolving in some mysterious acid vapor, a drill press and a section of the turret lathe vanished before their eyes.
"He's coming closer," said Devon.
Kennely tore the last of the packing case away. The machine stood exposed. It seemed featureless until he discovered the almost invisible snaps on the drop panels which revealed the faces of instrument panels complex beyond understanding. The engineers could see no external power connections unless some of the silver threads were tapping the power line. It seemed impossible that such thin carriers could supply the current to operate a complex creation like this.
"It looks like they include a free copy of Webster's Unabridged Dictionary to all cash customers," said Devon. He nodded towards a receptacle where a thick volume reposed. He began to pull it out and glanced at the cover.
"Hey! This can't be... it is! Brian, here's an instruction book on how to run the gadget!"
He opened the thick tome to the middle while Kennely looked over his shoulder. He started to read aloud from a random paragraph:
"... then the six paratempal tubes are connected in cycloid and the field stress advanced to six point three diams. The coordinator is shipped from the factory with this adjustment made for standard gravity, but with mass-inertia variations caused by changes in gravity it may be necessary to go through the entire process of setting the horostasis circuit in operation in proper sequence ..."
"Cripes, Brian. We can't read this stuff. I'd like to bet that nowhere in these pages does it tell what a paratempal tube is and how it functions. Take any one of our own instruction books. There're a thousand references unexplained to anyone not equipped with the proper background. And we're definitely not equipped with the proper background to savvy this!"