Carter stared at the space where it had been. “That’s that,” he said. “Now we fight alone.”
“We fight better alone,” growled Lathrop. He patted the weapon at his side. “Harper died when I turned this on him. He didn’t shrink, like Buster. It acted differently on the two of them. There’s something in this gun those babies are afraid of. The Martians should have known it, but they didn’t. They were too sure that they were right. They said the record was closed, but that didn’t make it closed.”
He patted the gun again. “That’s why Harper, or whatever Harper was, wanted to get the jug. He and his race didn’t feel safe so long as there was any race in the Universe holding a working knowledge of the fourth dimension.”
“Harper,” said Elmer, “had a fourth-dimensional sense.”
Lathrop nodded. “The Martians didn’t have such a sense, couldn’t feel in the fourth dimension. So they never knew it when they poured themselves into the fourth dimension. But when Harper started being shoved into the fourth dimension, it hurt. It hurt like hell. It killed him.”
Carter shrugged. “It’s not much to go on.”
“The human race,” Lathrop reminded him, “has gone a long way on less. The gun is the starting point. From it we learn the basic principle. Pretty soon we’ll be able to make Buster his regular size again. And after that we’ll be able to do something else. And then we’ll find another fact. We’ll edge up on it. In the end we’ll know more about the fourth dimension than the Martians did. And we’ll have a weapon none of the Evil Beings dare to face.”
“We’ll do all that,” said Carter, “if Elmer lets us go. He still can insist that we stay right here and starve.”
“You may go,” said Elmer.
They stood, the three of them, staring at the ceiling, where Elmer fluttered wispily.