“Postsacrificial checkup.” The old man looked apologetic. “We have no wish to harm you.”

“You might’ve tol’ me,” Da Rimini said bitterly.

“I thought it was implied. Let me say as one who has witnessed several sacrifices that you have very beautiful parts.”

Da Rimini’s brows drew together. “My parts are none of your business.”

“Furthermore, the portents were good. Public support for the invasion is confirmed. We will have our revenge upon the murderers of our ancestors and those who have foolishly allied themselves with them!” He held up a clenched fist. “We will take control of this EEC of yours by such means as the viracochas cannot imagine.”

“All right!” Trang Ho exclaimed. “An invasion! Real UFOs!”

Apu Tupa frowned at her. “What is a UFO?”

“You know. Spaceships?”

“We do not have any spaceships. The assault force will travel by means of transmitter.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Ho looked disappointed.

“Our forces will assemble at the Nazca base. There the actual attack will be planned while technicians assemble aircraft and large weapons.”

“I don’t care what kind of weapons y’all got,” Ashwood told him. “Y’all ain’t gonna be able to take over all of Europe with what little you can send through one transmitter.”

Apu Tupa regarded her haughtily. “Why not? Pizarro conquered the empire with barely a hundred fighters. We do not regard ourselves as any less capable. You will see the power of our weapons when they are brought into play. The learning machines have shown us how to build devices which your people cannot imagine.” He turned to leave.

Ashwood advanced to the limits of the pirca field. “What about us? What happens to us?”

The old man looked back. “You shall accompany us. Your advice may prove useful. By helping, you may save lives on both sides.” He continued up the walkway.

“You’ll never bring it off!” she shouted after him. There was less than complete conviction in her voice.

What if they could conquer all of Europe with their mysterious weapons? Would they be satisfied with that? Or would they move on to other lands? Why, if they could defeat the forces of a whole continent, they might even stand an outside chance of taking Texas!

How would the U.S. and the Soviet Union react to an invasion of Europe? Ashwood gazed at Francesca da Rimini’s belly. Did it bulge with the secrets of Armageddon, or only gas?

The Fernández brothers stood off to one side, whispering between themselves. They were about as trustworthy as Da Rimini, Ashwood decided, determining to keep an eye on them. As for Bruton Fewick, his intentions and loyalties were as inscrutable as ever.

That left Carter, their guide Igor, and herself to try and do something about the proposed invasion. Did she really care? What did the fate of Spain, or for that matter all of Europe, matter to her? She’d never even been there. So what if the Contisuyuns conquered the place? They might impose some common sense on the Italians and a little humility on the French. Nor was it likely to hurt her business.

She took an uncertain slug of some yellowish fruit drink, wondering why she should feel so uneasy.

U’chak was grateful to the Monitor for their encounter. It had shaken his self-confidence and made him much more alert. He would make no more such foolish mistakes.

Everything was once more proceeding satisfactorily, if not precisely according to his original plan. That no longer troubled him. He was nothing if not adaptable.

Soon he would engender developmental disruption on a vast scale, undermining the work of the Monitors and leaving delicious discord in his wake. Eventually he would move on to another world to concoct fresh chaos there. It was the destiny he had chosen for himself. The galaxy was becoming far too civilized and settled a place. It was left to him alone to inculcate properly disruptive motive stimuli in the too-satisfied primitive species. A grandly destructive war, for example, would be most stimulating.

No, he would not allow the Monitor that close again. He bathed in the memory of how he had eluded her, in how his escape must be disturbing her and disrupting her work. He was quite pleased with himself. She could not stop him now, he was convinced. Not even if she revealed herself.

There was nothing for the prisoners to do but eat, sleep, and ponder their eventual fates. Carter wondered if his agent had been calling, while Fewick lamented his inability to maintain his regular correspondence. The Fernández brothers worried aloud about how their business was functioning in their continued absence.

By contrast Igor was not concerned, knowing that anyone who had been absent this long in the selva would be presumed missing until he or his corpse came floating downriver.

Apu Tupa still made occasional visits, though most of his time was taken up with assisting in preparations for the invasion. Several times the Fernández brothers were taken away for long periods. Upon their return they invariably offered perfunctory explanations of what had taken place. Carter and Ashwood listened and nodded but thought both men looked guilty as hell.

One day Apu Tupa appeared in the company of an impressive-looking, stocky Inca named Pucahuaman, whose name according to Igor translated as “Red Hawk.” His brown tunic-uniform was decorated with red piping and sprays of gold woven into the material. He looked to be about forty, with close-cropped hair and a fullback’s build, and if he knew how to smile it was a talent he kept firmly in check during his brief visit.

Apu Tupa treated him with considerable respect without actually deferring to him. For his part Pucahuaman let the older man do most of the talking, interrupting only when he felt uncomfortable with what his translator told him. At such times he didn’t hesitate to seek clarification from Tupa. Only after he left did they learn that he was the general in charge of the invasion.

“It is good that you have been so cooperative,” Tupa told them. “It means we have not had to make use of other methods of extracting the information we require.” Carter felt a slight chill at the admission. Apu Tupa might be old, but there was nothing frail about him.

“Since we have been so helpful,” Fewick said, “perhaps you could answer a question for me?” Tupa nodded condescendingly. “Some people have postulated that the long lines at Nazca, where the second transmitter is located, were landing strips for alien spacecraft. Do the Contisuyuns have an opinion on this matter?”

“To the best of our knowledge, Those-Who-Came-Before employed only the transmitters to travel between worlds. Why would they use vessels to cross the same distances far more slowly? Such a theory makes no sense. We believe that the Nazca peoples made those lines and drawings for their own edification.”

Fewick looked gratified. “My colleagues and I believe the same.”

“Never mind about a bunch of dead folks.” Ashwood confronted the master. “What happens to us when your invasion gets under way?”

“As previously mentioned, you are to accompany us to provide information as required,” Tupa told her. “It will not be long. Prepare yourselves.” With that he turned and grandly exited the room.

“At least we’re going home,” Carter observed.

“Yeah. Plumb straight into the middle of a war,” Ashwood said glumly.

XIII

Months passed, marked by increasing boredom and frustration on the part of the prisoners. Carter was convinced that his agent had long since dropped him. When the day finally came that they were escorted off the platform and out of the museum everyone was grateful despite what their departure portended.

They were whisked out of the building and via air suspension vehicle through an extensive cityscape which was anything but primitive. Tall, shimmering towers rose above gleaming blocks of offices and apartments. There was little in any of them to suggest their architectural origins except for the presence in several buildings of the traditional trapezoidal Inca windows.

Once outside the city their vehicle accelerated markedly, traveling at high speed and in comparative silence through strange forests and grasslands. Several hours later they turned off the main highway onto a side road which eventually led down into a smooth-sided tunnel.

The tunnel opened into a series of vast caverns which had been artificially enlarged and reinforced. Men and women busied themselves at inexplicable tasks. There was no mistaking the air of expectation and excitement which filled the chambers.

Their craft came to a halt in the largest cavern of all. Carter and his companions emerged and found themselves surrounded by uniformed troops and technicians. The troops carried long silver tubes and wore red helmets with translucent face shields. Conversation filled the air, machines moved back and forth according to unknown patterns.

Ranked next to each other and filling most of the cavern were twelve cargo transports the size of wingless 747s, squared off at the stern and rounded near the bow. The drab plastic and ceramic shapes were feathered with mysterious antennae. Carter saw no sign of engines.

That was because motive power was clearly supplied by the gigantic ovoid located at the far end of the chamber. The towering white egg-shape rested on massive golden supports and looked big enough to transmit an oil tanker. Those-Who-Came-Before, Carter decided, had not always thought small.

Workers loaded huge containers and alien machines into the transports through heavy cargo doors located in the stern of each vessel. Troops filed a-board via side entrances.

Pucahuaman was visible off to their right, conversing with members of his general staff.

“Which one is ours?” Manco Fernández noticed Carter watching him, added too quickly, “I mean, on which are the prisoners to be transported?”

Apu Tupa led them past Pucahuaman’s group. “We have the honor of traveling with the general staff, so our vehicle will be much smaller.”