"But we are helpless," Lelan sighed. "Godi and I, like others born of Taval families, are safe. But the Jim Kenleys brought out of time—they must suffer. It is not right. When I am old I am ready to die."
Vasper nodded. "I do not want to go back, and take men of my age, for such purposes. It's murder, no less. We do not believe in murder, here in Taval."
Fator! He had appeared so benevolent. He was a brilliant man. Bob could understand in a way. Fator was ambitious for his period of stewardship, to reach all the goals he had set. And he could live himself, through his brain, till he had gained those objectives. And Forg! Jim's body and Forg's brain, toiling at his own side in the years to come. Bob shuddered. But what to do? If the experiment was so nearly at hand—
Yes, there was a chance. It came to Bob in a wave of inspiration. It was a chance that had about as long odds as his own at returning to 1940. The single, time-space transfer machine! If it could be called a machine. Vasper should know of it. He had made so many trips. Now he met his Taval friend's troubled eyes. "The machine," he whispered.
Vasper looked scared. "No. One dies attempting to even touch it, except at Fator's orders. It is a sacred trust of a hundred men. To try and reach it means you would be exploded, into sheer gas."
"But if Fator gave an order," Bob went on, "what then?"
Vasper shrugged his shoulders. "Obedience, of course. But Fator will not give such an order."
Godi plucked Bob's arm. "I think I understand," he spoke quietly. "If such an order was given. In Fator's place, I mean. Then one would die, but perhaps you could gain the machine."
"True, Godi. But the only little item lacking, is how to give that order, and then keep Fator from canceling it."