After a mile we wheeled and went back. I suddenly realized that only
four platforms were in the re-formed line ahead of us. One was
missing! I saw it now, wavering down, close over the ship. A bolt
leaped up diagonally from a distant angle on the rocks and caught the
disabled platform. It fell, whirling, glowing red--disappeared into
the blur of darkness like a bit of heated metal plunged into water.

One out of six of our platforms already lost! Three men of our small
force gone!

But Grantline led us desperately back. Anita caught his signal to
break our line. The five platforms scattered, dipping and wheeling
like frightened birds--blurring shapes, shifting unnaturally in flight
as the Benson curve lights were altered.

Anita now took our platform in a long swoop downward. Her tense,
murmured voice sounded in my ears:

"Hold off; I'll take us low."

A melee. Passing platform shapes. The darting bolts, crossing like
ancient rapiers. Falling blue points of fuse lights as we threw our
bombs.

Down in a swoop. Then rising. Away, and then back. This silent warfare
of lights! It seemed that around me must be bursting a pandemonium of
sound. Yet there was none. Silent, blurred melee, infinitely
frightening. A bolt struck us, clung for an instant; but we weathered
it. The light was blinding. Through my gloves I could feel the tingle
of the over charged shield as it caught and absorbed the hostile
bombardment. Under me the platform seemed heated. My little Erentz
motors ran with ragged pulse. I got too much oxygen. I was dully
smothering....

Then the bolt was gone. I found us soaring upward, horribly tilted. I
shifted over.

"Anita! Anita, dear, are you all right?"

"Yes, Gregg. All right."

The melee went on. The brigand ship and all its vicinity were
enveloped in dark mist now--a turgid sable curtain, made more dense by
the dissipating heavy fumes of our exploding bombs which settled low
over the ship and the rocks nearby. The searchlight from our camp
strove futilely to penetrate the cloud.

Our platforms were separated. One went by, high over us. I saw another
dart close beneath my shield.

"God, Anita!"

"Too close! I didn't see it."

Almost a collision.

"Gregg, haven't we broken the ship's dome yet?"

It seemed not. I had dropped nearly all my bombs. This could not go on
much longer. Had it been only about five minutes? Only that? Reason
told me so, yet it seemed an eternity of horror.

An