Sir Robert had been braced to stand up to it. He had known of this attack but he could not see how he could be fished out. A flame thrower was supposed to sweep that platform clean.

And then this lad had thrown his flame thrower down and attacked! It looked like such a hopeless effort.

Because of Sir Robert, this lad had thrown away his own chances. His own life?

Sir Robert felt the pulse again. Good god, how long could a pulse race like that without a person dying?

He began to get uneasy about the silence outside. There was supposed to be a standby rescue crew deep in the old compound, waiting with flatbeds and planes with both Dr. Allen and Dr.

MacKendrick. All in radiation suits and air masks.

It was so silent in here. Was that a slight crackling sound?

Jonnie would have had a mine radio. Sir Robert felt around Jonnie's belt and then scrabbled around the floor.

He had it! A crackling sound was coming out of it. It was live, but no voices.

Were they all dead out there?

He pressed the transmit button. “Hello. Hello.” Not clever to say more. Who knew who might be out there?

Silence.

“Hello, hello.” Then he thought he better give them a location. Not clever but he had to do it. “Console talking.”

Was that the click of a transmit switch?

Then a voice in a whisper as though from far away, “Is that you, Sir Robert?”

It was Thor's voice! Sir Robert almost wept with relief.

"Thor?"

“Yes, Sir Robert.”

"Thor, Jonnie is in here. He has had a poisoned arrow in him. You've got to get him out quick!”

Then Dr. Allen. “Sir, do you have a radiation suit on?”

“No, blast ye! I’ve no suit! To heil wi' thet! Get the lad out!”

“Sir, is his suit whole?”

Sir Robert realized he had torn the sleeve off. No.

"I’m sorry, sir,” whispered Dr. Allen over the mine radio, “to open that dome would kill you both. Have a little patience. We're trying to find out what we can do.”

“Patience be domned!" stormed Sir Robert. His extreme urgency was throwing his speech into dialect. “Git th' lad oot!"

There was no answer. Sir Robert was about to start banging on the inside of the dome. Didn't they realize Jonnie was probably dying in here?

Then a tiny, piping, whispering voice took over. “Sir Robert?” It was one of the young Buddhist communicators. Probably the youngest they had. They had turned him over to a child!

The War Chief was about to thunder a damnation at them when the child whispered, speaking Psychlo, “Sir Robert, they're doing all they can, honored sir. It is pretty bad out here.”

“Where are you?” demanded Sir Robert, reverting to Psychlo.

“I am just outside the dome, honored sir. My mine radio is inside my air mask under my radiation face shield. Excuse me that I whisper. We want nothing picked up by the visitors above. They can't hear this and the mine radio won't reach them.” “What are the visitors doing?”

“I don't know, Sir Robert. The snow clouds have closed in again. I see a pilot communicator. I will ask. I will be right back.”

There was a long pause. Then the tiny, shrill little voice, “Sir? The pilot communicator says they have moved in orbit and are somewhere above us.

They have this place being looked at. But our battle planes are standing by. Dunneldeen is up there. He wants to know how we are. How is Lord Jonnie?"

Sir Robert felt the shaking limbs of the body resting against him. But he knew morale was a factor up there in the sky. He could not tell them he thought Jonnie was dying. But Jonnie was still alive. “Tell them they should not worry just now.”

The child was gone for a bit.

Then the tiny whispering voice, “The pilot communicator passed it on.”

“What are they doing here to get us out?” demanded Sir Robert. What hell it was sitting here in the dark waiting. Jonnie's breathing was too rapid, too rapid by far!

“It’s very bad out here, Sir Robert. Very bad. If you hear crackling, it's the power lines. They are all shorted out and burning on the ground, throwing sparks.”

“Are there any casualties in the raiding party?”

“Oh, we don't know that, Sir Robert. The rescue team is using blade scrapers to uncover the coffins. I’m standing beside a hole where the platform used to be. It 's smoking. Is it hot in there?”

Sir Robert had not noticed. Then he realized that the dome was warm to the touch. He said so.

"I’m told to tell you not to release the annealing lever on the dome skids. It is a wonder that they held. So don't release the lever. They will move the whole metal platform.”

Somebody else was coming through on the channel. "Dwight? Can you hear us? Dwight!”

The tiny voice of the child said, “They found his coffin under the ravine bank just now. The bank caved in on it. They have found a forklift in the garage that operates and they are lifting the coffin. They are opening the lid. Dwight looks stunned but he is sitting up.”

“They should be working on this dome!” raged Sir Robert.

“Oh, there's a whole other team working on it, honored sir. They are bringing a small crane out of the lower levels of the compound now. I see a man throwing clamps on the big crane. It is on its side and they have to lift it upright.”

Sir Robert was getting an idea of what it was like out there.

“We were down in the sixteenth level,” said the tiny voice. “The concussion was bad. It grabbed air out of the place but nothing was heard.”

“Well, what was it? What happened?” demanded Sir Robert.

“We don't know, honored sir.”

“They had some nuclear weapons on standby. Did they explode?”

There was a pause. The child had gone off somewhere. He came back. “No, sir. Thor says they are intact and he is awfully relieved. They didn't explode.” “Then what was it?”

“I am so very sorry, sir. None of us knows. Oh, here comes a blade scraper to loosen your platform so it can be lifted. The first one they had broke down after they got the fire out of it. I am told you must be patient, sir. We are doing all we can.” Then, “They've got three more coffins out now.” A pause. Then sorrow. “The one they call Andrew is dead.”

The platform gave a jolt as a blade scraper seemed to pry under it. Sir Robert could hear a motor roar.

There was a shout of alarm and then a crash.

Then the piping little voice, “One of the poles fell in the crater. No one was hurt. Here comes your flatbed truck, sir.”

“Flatbed!” barked Sir Robert. “It’s supposed to be a plane! We're supposed to airlift out of here!”

There was a pause. The Buddhist communicator had gone off somewhere. He came back, “They have found a river to the south. It is the Purgatoire. The pilots told us.”

Sir Robert felt Jonnie's pulse. Racing!

“I don't understand!” cried Sir Robert. “Time is everything here! I need serum! Can't we lift this dome and push some serum in here?”

“I am sorry, Sir Robert. The Purgatoire is one hundred twenty miles south of here. It 's on an ancient man-highway." He rushed on so Sir Robert wouldn't interrupt. “They have mine pumps out. All our equipment and planes are contaminated. They have to be hosed down to get rid of radiation. When that's done they can open the dome.”

Sir Robert clenched his fists. One hundred twenty miles! How long would that take?

The child must have been reading his thoughts. "I’m told they will drive very fast; they can on the ancient highway. Thor himself will drive your flatbed. They know how important it is. Your flatbed will be the first to leave. They have your crane standing up now.”

There was another chunk from the blade scraper. Something under the platform seemed to tear loose.

“They have found fifteen coffins now,” said the child. “The Scots in them were all alive except one. The coffin was blown into the air and smashed his skull. The lead on the outside of the coffins is all melted. The tops, I mean. They're hot to the touch and it's hard to handle them.”