There were a hundred or so more humans in the strange colony, and all had been drawn to this strange primeval world through some esoteric passage induced by the Kralons' Time Trap.
"But what is the reason behind it?" Randall asked Zor Ala in bafflement. "Why do they want us? What do they do with us?"
Before Zor Ala had a chance to reply, a loud click sounded from a small diaphragm on the wall, then a harsh voice rasped out a dozen words in crudely accented English.
Randall didn't catch the meaning. He turned questioningly to Zor Ala.
The future man sighed. "The Kralons want to interview the new arrivals," he said. "You are to wait at the West gate in the stockade."
"And if we don't?" Randall asked.
"I would," Zor Ala said soberly.
Randall shrugged and led his companions across the field.
Jerome Jackson was shaking even more violently than the four school ma'ams. The fat little salesman's plump cheeks quivered, and his pale eyes rolled in their sockets.
"Wha—what are they going to do with us now?" he quavered.