Gordon Malherne braced his hands against the stockade, motioned Jackson to climb on his shoulders. When the salesman was set, Doctor Gerard clambered to his shoulders, and Randall followed up the human ladder with Angus McClellan close behind.
When the two reached the top of the stockade, they wedged themselves between the sharpened ends of two piling, reached down and grasped the Doctor's hand and pulled him up. Then Randall removed his belt, asked for Gerard's. He buckled them end to end into a strap long enough to reach Jackson's clawing hands. The salesman clung while the engineer scrambled over his body and up the strap, then the three men hauled the perspiring Jackson to the top.
After a quick look below him, the little agent swung over the sharpened ends of the piling, hung by his hands for a moment, then dropped to the ground outside the stockade. In a moment he signalled the others to follow.
Silently they scurried through the night toward the massive central building which McClellan had dubbed "The Hive." Safe in the deeper gloom of its entry, they paused at Randall's whispered command.
"Here's the plan," Randall said softly. "There are half a hundred corridors branching from the main hallway. We'll each explore one corridor, and if anyone finds any clue as to what has happened to Garnet or the McMahons, he'll return to the main hallway at once and wait for the rest. Satisfactory?"
Everyone nodded but Jackson. "That's all very well for you," the fat man protested. "You're armed, but how about the rest of us?"
Randall silently extended his automatic, butt first. Jackson lost any possible remaining respect his companions might have possessed for him when he accepted the gun and turned sheepishly down one of the corridors.
Randall found himself in a narrow, arched passage dimly illuminated by small glowing studs set in the walls. He glanced quickly behind him, then started on a soundless trot down the passage, staying close to the right wall, and pausing occasionally to listen at the frequent panels which broke the monotony of the walls.
Once a panel slid open a hundred feet down the hall ahead of him, and one of the diminutive Kralons emerged and, luckily, started down the corridor away from Randall.
Randall waited until the creature had gained a considerable lead, then followed cautiously. At length he came to an open arch at the end of the corridor, and, in what appeared to be a lounging salon, he saw a number of the small Kralons busy at enigmatic occupations, their mandibles clacking in weird conversation.