"God," said Mike softly. "Laughter did it. Laughter." His dark eyes were staring at Sean. Then he, too, was laughing, joining his bass with Sean's baritone.
Earthlings moved out of the laundry, their eyes wide. They, too, fired by the infectious roarings began to laugh. On the wings of the wind, the laughter spread, working its way building by building, street by street, block by block through the city, as other humans picked it up, flung it on joyfully.
And as the Earthly laughter bubbled and rolled through the sullen city of Karrar, Kraks died—only a few at first, but more and more as the bursts of laughter swelled and swelled until even the black and red stone echoed with it.
Mike O'Hara placed his big hand on Sean McKenna's arm.
"You found the chink, Sean," he said. "Was it the sound of the laughter? That doesn't sound right." He chuckled a little at the unexpected pun.
Sean grinned. "I know what you're driving at, Mike. Laughter is scaled so low on the vibration scale that the Kraks must have encountered other vibrations of the same intensity at many times in the past. That it?"
Mike nodded.
Sean grinned impishly. "Laugh once, Mike, and listen to your laughter." Mike laughed, his brow furrowed.
"No idea bloomed," he said when he stopped laughing.