.. but of course they couldn't, now. He let his eyes wander
aimlessly along the circuitry surrounding them. Tell me, old Kor, what
do we do now?
After a moment his eyes narrowed; he reached up and traced a connection
with his fingers, back to the front, toward the altar. It led directly
to ... the speaker!
The voice of Kor.
And if he could interrupt that connection, put his own voice through the
speaker, out through the altar....
"Mara, we're going out. I've found my own brand of karate for our
friends out there."
He helped her to her feet. She moved somewhat painfully, her broken left
arm hanging stiffly at her side, but she made no protest.
"We've got to be fast," he said. "I don't know how well this will
work--it depends on how much they trust their clay-footed god today."
Quickly, he outlined his plan. Mara listened silently and nodded.
Then he set to work. It was largely guesswork, following those intricate
alien connections, but Rynason had seen this part of such machines
before. He found the penultimate point at which the impulses from the
brain were translated into sound and broadcast through the speaker.
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