d time. We move the televisor, we
use the tele-transport, by giving the objects we wish to move an
acceleration in time."

Greg wrinkled his brow. "Maybe that means we can really investigate the
past, or even the future. Can sit here before our screen and see
everything that has happened, everything that is going to happen."

Russ shook his head. "I don't know, Greg. Notice, though, that we got no
screen response until the televisor came up out of the past and actually
reached the point which coincided with the present. That is, the screen
and the televisor itself have to be on the same time level for them to
operate. We might modify the screen, even modify the televisor so that
we could travel in time, but it will take a lot of research, a lot of
work. And especially it will take a whale of a lot of power."

"We have the power," said Greg.

Russ moved the lighter back and forth over the tobacco, igniting it
carefully. Clouds of blue smoke swirled around his head. He spoke out of
the smoke.

"Right now," he said, "we better see how Craven and our other friends
are getting along. I didn't like the way Stutsman was talking or the way
he was swinging that gun around. And Chambers wasn't anywhere in sight.
There's something screwy about the entire thing."

* * * * *

"What are we going to do now?" demanded Stutsman.

Craven grinned at him. "That's up to you. Remember, you're the master
mind around here. You took over and said you were going to run things."
He waved a casual hand at the shattered machines, the ripped-out
apparatus. "Well, there you are. Go ahead and run the joint."

"But you will have to help," pleaded Stutsman, his face twisted until it
seemed that he was suffering intense physical agony. "You know what to
do. I don't."

Craven shook his head. "There isn't any use starting. Manning will be
along almost anytime now. We'll wait and see what he has in mind."

"Manning!" shrieked Stutsman, waving the pistol wildly. "Always Manning.
One would think you were working for Manning."

"He's the big shot out in this little corner of space right now," Craven
pointed out. "There isn't any way you can get around that."

Stutsman backed carefully away. His gun came up and he looked at Craven
appraisingly, as if selecting his targets.

"Put down that gun," said a voice.

Gregory Manning stood between Stutsman and Craven. There had been no
foggy forerunner of his appearance.