Grim grabbed him, shook him. "Listen to me! I don't want to hurt your people ... but we have to stop them. We must rewire the machine—reduce the frequency of the vibrations into audible pitch—step up the decibels to two hundred or more."
"But that would be intense sound—painful!"
"You bet it would. It would give those howling babies out there the sweetest case of what used to be called "shell shock" or "battle fatigue" you ever saw. But—it's our only chance!"
Jones stared at him, touching his lips with a dry tongue. He whispered, "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. But—"
The battering ram thumped the machine. The floor under their feet shook. Jones nodded hastily. "Yes, I'll do it. I'll hurry."
He went to a round opening in the floor, caught a metal rod protruding through it, and swung himself down. Grim caught Tlokine and drew her to the selassi-metal table and hunted in its drawers. He found cotton and tore loose several strips. He crumpled the cotton into tiny balls.
"I'm going to put these in your ears, Tlokine. You won't be able to hear much, then. Just sit still. Jones and I—we're going to do our best to stop those babies outside. When we do, things are going to happen in a hurry. I want you to be prepared."
He put the cotton tabs in her ear, whispered, "I love you, darling," and caught the sliding rod in his hands and swung down.
Grim walked the cat-walks between the throbbing engines in the dim light of myriad bulbs set in plastic casings. He saw the enclosed dynamos that forced the incredible vibrations outward to the needle towers that picked them up and threw them around the planet.
On a metal floor below him, old Jasper Jones was disconnecting terminals and re-hooking them. Grim joined him. It was close, hot work inside the huge machine. Sweat dripped down Grim's forehead and ran into his eyes and mouth. With the back of his forearm he swabbed at his face and worked on.