“I’ll do it,” he told her. “And I’ll do it straight. We’re still pretty much on automatics because of Jamie, but I assume you’ve already fed the instructions into the computers.”
She nodded. “I made them up and tested them weeks ago. The code is Auer, comma, Geib, comma, Bebel, comma, Liebknecht.”
“That you’d better input. I might make some terrible spelling error. The rest I will do.”
Quickly she went over to the keyboard on the side of the control panel and typed in the passwords. The board came alive.
“Just what’s gonna happen?” Stillman wanted to know.
“They’ll just… disappear in there,” Cline told him. “Or so it will seem to us. Actually, we’re going to keep going and they’re going to stand still.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll try and explain it later. All right, Doctor—we’ve got limited air and power on one of those suits. Let’s do it.”
Silverberg shrugged and turned to the console. The sequence and number of controls he changed, punched, pulled, pushed, or otherwise manipulated seemed enormous. Stillman couldn’t follow any of it and turned to Cline. “You sure he’s doing it right?”
“He’s doing it right; don’t worry. Most of it is security, anyway. The whole operation’s computerized and, as I said, I did that. If he does anything wrong, they just won’t go anywhere.”
An alarm buzzer sounded, making the big man jump. “What’s that?”
“Warning to clear the area. Here they go!”
Suddenly the walls blazed with light, and the two figures inside clasped metallic gloved hands. Beams of energy, beams nearly too bright to look at even through the shielding, shot out and enveloped the two. There was a sudden burst of light from where they stood, and then all of the energy seemed to flow into that spot, as if swallowed by some great mouth. In a moment, all was normal again—except that the time chamber was empty.