Another pause. And then, “If I must go let us go at once, Curt!”
Newton became aware then that Thardis still hovered beside them. And Thardis told them, “Come, I will guide you.”
They three went winging upward from the depths of the Sun — swiftly up through the golden many-tinted photosphere, past the angry crimson tides above, high, high, through the whipping veils of the corona into empty space.
DAZED, his shaken senses reeling, Newton perceived across the gulf the tiny semi-molten ball of Vulcan. He fixed upon it, knowing that if he faltered now he was lost.
Thardis said, “Go quickly, little brothers. I know. I too once started back.”
“Come!” cried Newton desperately.
He plunged out across the gulf, swift as a shooting star, and by the very force of his mind he dragged the wavering Carlin with him.
Too much had happened, too much to bear. Newton’s mind was clouded, torn between exaltation and pain of loss, dazed with sights and sounds beyond human power to endure. It was as in a dream that they rushed toward Vulcan.
Down the Beam into the hollow world they flashed and he perceived only vaguely the jungle and hills and the citadel. They passed together through the triple arch and sank down into the dimness where the Futuremen waited.
Carlin went first into the space between the somber coils. Newton saw him enter the force-field, a tenuous thing of flame, and step forth from it a man — a dazed and reeling man. Otho caught him as he fell.