He heard the boom of the improvised battering ram thud into the metal wall; saw the great tubes shake and flicker. The metal floor quivered under his feet.
A woman screamed. Grim came to his feet, incredulous, hearing Tlokine cry, "It's Black Randolph! He's coming through the back way—"
Grim whispered, "He's dead. I saw him fall from the cliff."
He leaped; came up short as Jasper Jones clawed at his arm with aged hands. The old man babbled, "The machine is our only chance."
Randolph was roaring in triumph, "I have your girl, Thorssen. Come out of there or I'll give her a disintegrator pellet. Ha! You didn't watch me long enough, Thorssen. I missed the rocks—went into the water. It carried me under the temple, to stone steps. They led me—here! You hear me, Thorssen? Come out of there!"
"I hear you. I'm coming."
Instead he turned and looked at the wiring terminals where Jasper Jones toiled, his hands a blur of movement and his white hair wet with sweat. The old man's panting made a harsh sound in the fetid air.
"We almost through?" Grim whispered.
"Almost ... just these, now ... another turn to tighten them—there!"
A switch with a glittering red handle was a foot above Jones' bent head. Grim went for it in a flying leap. His hands came up and the switch went down and—