A short walk brought them to an overlook. Below stood another transmitter. It was the same size as the ones they’d previously encountered at Paititi and Nazca. Sitting next to it was a transport vessel the size of two large trucks.

“The main force will transmit first,” their guide explained, “so that by the time the general staff follows, the immediate area will already be secured. According to what we know of the Nazca caverns this should not take much time.” Again Carter looked at Manco Fernández. The soft-drink bottler studiously avoided his gaze.

“Once our large weapons and defensive systems are in place we will be able to proceed in a more leisurely fashion.” He checked his tube. “Departure should begin shortly. It should be a grand sight. Our transmitters have been inoperative for two hundred years. I look forward to witnessing in person a phenomenon I know only from descriptions in ancient writings.”

They watched and waited while the loading of the transports continued. When the last soldier had boarded and the last weapon had safely been stowed the technicians and workers retreated to the upper end of the cavern.

Desperate as he was to see Earth again, Carter found himself hoping the transmitter would not work.

The hum that filled the chamber set his bones to trembling. It was much deeper and more pervasive than anything they had previously experienced. The floor vibrated noticeably. The sound rose steadily in volume and intensity, until the colossal ovoid began to pulse with a prodigal inner glow. Though everyone had been provided with eyeshades, they still turned away when the blast of pure intense light exploded to fill the cavern. Past his ears echoed a scream of displaced air.

A cheer rose from the crowd of workers. When he could see again Carter saw that the first transport in line had vanished. The next was already being moved into position proximate to the transmitter.

It took only two hours to transmit all twelve of the huge transports. There followed a period of rejoicing and congratulations in which the prisoners did not share. Several prominent nobles and military people made speeches.

It was evening before the general staff finally boarded its own transport.

The vessel’s interior was incredibly basic, Carter saw. There were no controls of any kind, and minimal instrumentation. Only comfortable seats and couches. Twenty elite soldiers and as many technicians accompanied the prisoners and the general staff.

“We shall emerge in the upper portion of the base,” Apu Tupa informed them, “ready to assume preassigned stations immediately. No time will be wasted.”

Sealed within the transport they had no way of knowing whether the transmitter would activate. They could not see the flash because there were no windows. But soon after the general staff ceased conversing Carter thought he felt a slight, subtle disorientation. His suspicion was confirmed when two technicians rose to open the single starboard-side door. As it slid aside, a pair of tube-wielding soldiers moved to flank the portal. Others rushed to take up positions outside the transport.

Only then did the technicians and members of the general staff begin to exit, accompanied by the eight prisoners (Fewick childishly insisted on including Moe as an official member of their group).

The Contisuyuns set up powerful portable lights. In their glow Carter could see that everything was as they had left it. The transmitter rested in its ceremonial stone alcove. The avalanche of gold that Blanco Fernández had brought forth from a nearby vault lay undisturbed where it had spilled. Only one thing was not as expected.

There was no sign of the hundreds of troops who were supposed to have preceded them.

As the general staff’s bodyguard spread out to check the main tunnel and side corridors Carter thought longingly of the hillside entrance located not far from where he was standing. This time his arms and legs were not bound. He was a good runner, though stiff from lack of exercise. If he could make it to the exit he might be able to lose himself in the scrub which covered the hills around Nazca. His chances of escaping would be improved if it was night outside.

And what then? What would he tell the local authorities? That above the famed Nazca lines lay a vast cavern presently packed with soldiers descended from the ancient Incas, all of them armed to the teeth with weapons derived from an alien technology? That they had stepped across a gulf of light-years with the sole intention of exacting revenge for injuries they had suffered hundreds of years ago?

He might be better off hitching a ride back to Lima, flying home, seeing if his agent had any work for him, and following any subsequent developments on the evening news. That meant living out the remainder of his days knowing he had abdicated all personal responsibility for whatever happened from then on.

On the other hand, he thought blithely, he didn’t much care for the French either.

The general staff was puzzled but not overly concerned. Something had prevented the main force’s technicians from setting up battle control here in the upper cavern. They would arrive in due course, perhaps any minute now. Although careful preliminary calculations had allowed for sufficient room in the main chamber below, it was not inconceivable that the arrival of the twelve massive transports had resulted in a cave-in of unknown dimensions. The transports had been sturdily constructed with such possibilities in mind, and provided with equipment for digging out.

In addition to the fact that Apu Tupa was watching them closely there were half a dozen fully alert soldiers poised between him and the tunnel leading to the entrance. Reluctantly Carter controlled his itching feet.

Technicians continued to unload equipment and supplies from the command transport until a soldier came racing down the tunnel to jabber frantically at Apu Tupa. He was out of breath, his face showing a mix of bafflement and terror. The old man listened, occasionally glancing in the captives’ direction.

“Can you tell what they’re saying?” Carter asked Ashwood as he fiddled with his translator.

She shook her head. Igor had been paying closer attention. “There seems to be some kind of problem.”

“I can see that much.” He tensed as Tupa came toward them with two soldiers in tow.

“There is some difficulty. You will come with us. It may be that you can offer information.” The two soldiers moved into position to flank the reluctant prisoners.

“Where are we going?” Fewick inquired.

“Down to the central chamber.” Tupa’s manner was brusque yet cautious. “The general desires your presence.”

They were led into a side tunnel which soon sloped downward. It expanded rapidly in size. Light became visible up ahead.

The corridor opened onto the largest enclosed space they’d encountered since leaving Contisuyu. Like some long-forgotten sports arena it stretched off into the distance, a vast cavity hewn from the solid rock beneath the Nazca plains, lit by lights hastily emplaced by Contisuyun technicians.

Off in the distance Carter could just make out a twin to the huge transmitter they’d seen in action on Continsuyu. Squatting serenely on the floor of the cavern were the twelve huge military transports whose spectacular departure had preceded their own. They approached the nearest.

Pucahuaman and his closest aides stood by the transport’s door, dwarfed by its size as they argued heatedly with several technicians. The general looked up as the prisoners and their escort arrived.

“We have prodded the interior,” he told Apu Tupa. “There is no response.” He gestured at the paved area which lay between the transport and the upward-leading tunnel. “This place should be full of technicians and soldiers busily assembling the instruments of invasion. Instead it is quiet. As quiet as a tomb.”

Despite impressive threats, the captives were unable to shed any light on the mystery. The general’s anger and frustration compelled Apu Tupa to come to their indirect defense.

“It is clear they know nothing of what has happened. It is not even necessary to ask them. Their ignorance shines unblemished from their faces. It coats their very words.”

Pucahuaman whirled to glare at the transport. “Why don’t they come out? Surely all the doors of all twelve cannot be jammed or disabled? If they are being overly cautious they should at least respond to our presence.” He took a couple of steps and kicked hard at the side of the transport, as if the puny gesture might be capable of rousing someone on the other side of the thick plastic wall. It provoked no more response than had anything else.

“Open it,” he ordered the nearest technician curtly.

There was some confusion among the techs, who had prepared themselves thoroughly to deal with a multitude of complex possibilities but no simple ones. It was decided to begin near the bow of the transport, with a smaller door located near where the officers should be seated.

Instructions were muttered to a runner who promptly took off for the upper level. He returned shortly with a plastic case in each hand. The techs rummaged through the contents until one rose clutching a triple-tube arrangement. Everyone watched expectantly as he approached the towering wall of the transport and used the device to trace a clearly visible vertical seam. Telltales on the unit glowed silently.

A whirring noise sounded from inside and the technician stepped back. There was a soft click as the door began to slide aside.

As it did so a blast of emerging warm salt water caught the unfortunate technician smack in the face and knocked him off his feet. The flood intensified as the door continued to open, drenching the general, his staff, soldiers, and prisoners with equally damp equanimity and forcing a mad scramble for safety. Yells and screams in English, Spanish, and Quechua were barely audible above the roar of escaping water.

Carter reached out and grabbed Ashwood by the belt of her pants as she threatened to go floating past. She came up sputtering and choking. He held her steady until the deluge began to subside.

The volume of water had been considerable, but it dissipated quickly as it drained out of the transport and spread through the vast reaches of the cavern. A few pools collected in low spots on the pavement.

Along with the escaping water came living creatures. Not the soldiers of Contisuyu, armed and ready for battle, but fish and glistening collapsed coelenterates.

Pucahuaman, Apu Tupa, and the rest of the general staff looked rather less impressive in their saturated soggy uniforms. The general was too startled and groggy to curse.

The water had half drowned captors and prisoners alike. Carter watched Blanco Fernández help his brother to his feet. A waterlogged soldier had the presence of mind to keep between them and the tunnel. Nearby, Bruton Fewick struggled erect and with great dignity waddled over to recover his cat. The big tom had washed up against a slope and was so drenched he apparently didn’t know where to start cleaning himself. He looked like a rejected floor mop in Fewick’s hands.

People stumbled dazedly about, trying to wring out their clothes and thoughts. Carter was glad there was no breeze to chill them.

One by one the Contisuyun staff reassembled. The officers were angry, the technicians confused, and the soldiers shifting from foot to foot nearby more than a little frightened. What had happened to their brethren?

Though it struck Carter as anticlimactic, Pucahuaman had a thorough search made of the transport. As expected, no sign was found of the hundreds of soldiers and technicians who had transmitted from Contisuyu. Not a single body, not so much as a lost shoe.

“I wonder what the hell happened,” Ashwood murmured. “Not that I’m brokenhearted about it, mind.”