Bram and Miss Carroll watched silently as Tremaine worked. He strung wires, taped junctions, then flipped a switch on the hyperwave set and tuned it, his eyes on the dials of a smaller unit.
"Nineteen minutes have passed since the last attack," Bram said. "Make haste."
"I'm almost done," Tremaine said.
A sharp cry came from the wall. Tremaine jumped. "What the hell makes those sounds?"
"They are nothing—mere static. But they warn that the harmonic generators are warming." Bram struggled to his feet. "Now comes the assault."
"The shadows!" Miss Carroll cried.
Bram sank into the chair, leaned back, his face pale as wax in the faint glow from the wall. The glow grew brighter; the shadows swam into focus.
"Hurry, James," Miss Carroll said. "It comes quickly."
Bram watched through half-closed eyes. "I must man the Repellor. I...." He fell back in the chair, his head lolling.