But they were still on the ladder under our floor. They heard our voices; they began thumping again. Then pounding. They seemed now to have some heavy implement. They rammed with it against the trap.
But the floor seemed holding. The square of metal grid trembled, yielded a little. But it was good for a few minutes longer.
I called down, "The first one who comes through will be shot." My words mingled with their oaths. There was a moment's pause, then the ramming went on. The dying man on the deck was still screaming.
I WHISPERED, "I'll try an Earthsignal."
She nodded. Pale, tense, but calm. "Yes, Gregg. And I was thinking—"
"It won't take a minute. Have your helmet ready."
"I was thinking—"
She hurried across the room. I swung on the Botz signaling apparatus. It was connected. Within a moment I had it humming. The fluorescent tubes lighted with their lurid glare; they painted purple the body of the giant duty-man who lay sprawled at my feet. I drew on all the ship's power. The tube-lights in the room quivered and went dim.
I would have to hurry. Potan could shut this off from the main hull control room. I could see, through the room's upper trap, the primary sending mirror mounted in the peak of the dome. It was quivering, radiant with its light-energy. I sent the flash.
The flattened, past-full Earth was up there. I knew that the western hemisphere faced the Moon at this hour. I flashed in English, with the open Universal Earth-code:
"Help! Grantline."
And again: "Send help! Archimedes region near Apennines. Attacked by brigands. Send help at once! Grantline!"
If only it would be received! I flung off the current. Anita stood watching me intently. "Gregg, look!"
She had taken some of the glass globe-bombs which lay by the foot of the ascending ladder. She held some of them now.
"Gregg, I threw some."
AT the window we gazed down. The globes she flung had shattered on the deck. They were occulting darkness bombs.[1] Through the blackness of the deck, the shouts of the brigands came up. They were stumbling about. But the ramming of our trap went on, and I saw that it was beginning to yield. One corner of it was bent up.
"We've got to go, Anita!"
"Yes."
From out of the darkness which hung like a shroud over the deck an occasional flash came up, unaimed—wide of our windows. But the darkness was dissipating. I could see now the dim glow of the deck lights, blurred as through a heavy fog.
I dropped another of the bombs.
"Put on your helmet."
"Yes—yes, I will. You put on yours."
We had them adjusted in a moment. Our Erentz motors were pumping. I gripped her. "Put out your helmet-light"
She extinguished it. I handed her my bullet projector.
"Hold it a moment. I'm going to take that belt of bombs."
The trap-door was all but broken under the ramming blows of the men on the ladder. I leaped over the body of the duty-man, seized the belt of bombs and strapped it about my waist.
Anita stood with me.
"Give me the projector."
She handed it to me. The trap-door burst upward! A man's head and
- ↑ Filled with an odorless, harmless gas, these bombs were used in warfare, taking the place of the old-fashioned smoke screens. The diffusing gas was of such a nature that, when released, it absorbed within itself, all the color inherent to the light-rays striking it, thus creating a temporary darkness.
