g object
reeled uncertainly over there between two of the aeros of the Zar. The
concentration of beams of vibrations was too much for the sturdy craft.
It was red hot and its occupants burned alive where they sat. Suddenly
it slipped into a spin and went slithering down into the city, leaving a
gaping opening where it fell. This sobered him somewhat, but he went
into the battle with renewed fury.

* * * * *

How many had they brought down? Fifteen? Sixteen? He tore his purple
jacket from his body. The perspiration rolled from his pores. His own
ship would be next. But what did it matter? Kill! Kill! He shouted once
more into the microphone, then dived into battle. Another and another!
In Heaven's name, how many were there? It was maddening. If only he
could breathe. His lungs were seared; his eyes smarting from the heat.
And then it was over.

Three of the Zar's aeros remained, and these turned tail to run for it.
No! They were falling, nose down, under full power; diving into the city
from which they had come. Suicide? Yes. They couldn't face the
recriminations that must come to them. And anything was better than
facing that burning death from the strange little fighters which had
come from out the skies. Dorn was a mass of wreckage.

Karl tore at the fastenings of the ports, searing his fingers on the
heated metal. His pilot had collapsed, the little aero heading madly
skyward with no guiding hand. Air! They must have air! He loosened the
pilot's jacket; slapped frantically at his wrists in the effort to bring
him to consciousness. Then he was at the controls of the vessel, tugging
on first one, then the other. The aero circled and spun, executing the
most dangerous of sideslips and dives. A little voice was speaking to
him--the voice of the radio--instructing him. In a daze he followed
instructions as best he could. The whirlings of the earth stabilized
after a time and he found he was flying the vessel; climbing rapidly.

* * * * *

A sense of power came to him as the little voice of the radio continued
to instruct. Here were the controls of the electronic motor; there the
gravity-energy. He was proceeding in the wrong direction. But what did
it matter? He learned the meaning of the tiny figures of the altimeter;
the difference between the points of the compass. Still he drove on.

"East! Turn East!" begged the little voice from the radio. "You're