"The being is of a race called man and is named Mah Shuss Kem Bil. He is clothed in a type of space armour which embodies an air purifier, good for a period of time long enough to transport him to the fourth planet at half the speed of light, and is protected against cold by electric and tonic stimulants which do not produce heat, but only suspend the sensation of cold. Therefore we may come in contact with him without fear of burns.
"Since the future machine indicates that he must be sent back into space, and since there is no place for him in our world, he will be disposed of at once. Tower Two will dispatch two ships. The man will be instructed in the operation of one of the ships and sent on his way. The pilots will return in the other ship. That is all."
For a long moment, quiet filled the room.
Gor was uneasy as he said, "Well, Bakar, have you not heard? It is your duty to dispatch the ships. Why do you hesitate?"
Bakar sprung to his feet, a small weapon clutched in his claw-like hand. "No!" he hissed, "I will not obey the machine. I am going to prove to you, and to all, that it can be wrong. You know of the soft places in the plain, Gor. It is a wonder that the man did not land in one of these, considering that there are more of these than solid ground. But he will weary of waiting for the ships, which he has been informed of, and begin to wander. He cannot go far before he is swallowed up, sinking deeper and deeper. Then we shall see if the future machine is always right!"
Gor said nothing, but a slight smile came to his lips, a rather ironic one.
It was much later when Gor again spoke. He turned from his position at the thought receiver and said, "News for you, Bakar. I have just received thought that the man is on his way."
Bakar visibly started, and Gor continued, "How many times have you complied with an order from The Four and pressed the button that informs second in command that you had done so? Force of habit caused you to perform it this time, Bakar. The order went on, through second in command."
He added softly, "The future machine never lies!"
Marcius Kemble stood upon the frozen plain and waited. A satanic smile lighted his face and the cry for revenge was in his heart. He somehow felt that the thoughts had not lied, that they would send the promised ship. Then he would be free again, blasting back to quench his thirst for revenge against the Combine. His face became flushed and the temperature within his suit became perceptibly greater, as he formed his fanatical plans. While he waited, the leaders of the Combine, in his mind, suffered and died a thousand times.
