"Narina Varada!" he exclaimed.
The sound of his voice was almost fatal. All work ceased and the horde of little machines turned. They came at him in an invincible wave and Jason Charless turned pale. He fled precipitately.
He outdistanced them to Number 1142 and snapped on his radio gear. "Jason Charless to General Lloyd: Emergency One Zero Zero: We are on arctic ice-cap complete with guided missiles and logic computer. Narina Varada is mixed up in somewhere, and the workmanship bears direct evidence of—"
The machines reached Charless and bowled him over. They wrecked his radio, captured him and bore him back to the building, unconscious.
But his job had been done. His message had been intercepted—as Narina's message some time previously had been—but to the great air fleet that was heading for the arctic ice-cap from one continent was added another massed flight of fighting aircraft from America.
Jason Charless opened his eyes much later. He looked around. Before him stood a machine that worked on him with digited girders that were gentleness itself, even though they were made of hard metal.
"Wh—?" he exploded and tried to sit up.
The machine spoke: "Your assumption that we are directed by any human being is mistaken; we are not!"
"But—?"