"But what is this? You approach? You would storm the turret, save your petty skins?"
For already the first of the attacking party was drawing into the final corridor, preparing to break into the great room that housed the control turret.
"Stop!"
The command came, clear and incisive. Larry knew it was too late to win now. Harg knew of their coming; a touch of his hand would destroy them all. He raised his arm, halted the pell-mell advance of his diverse army with a gesture. "Let us hear what he has to say!" he ordered.
Harg's bargain reached him clearly. From where he sat, on the very lip of the tunnel that disgorged into the turret room, Larry could see the control chamber, could even glimpse the figure of the tiny scientist standing with one hand poised on a small red lever.
"Larry Wilson, warrior from a savage age, I speak to you, for it is you who led this revolt against my world. I offer you peace or death. It is yours to decide."
Larry's lips were white lines, grim and tight.
"Speak on!"
"First, I demand that the warriors you brought out of the past be returned to their own times."
"Go on!"