“Yes, I was afraid to risk a shot—it would give the whole thing away,” Seaton replied, as he threw the unconscious guards out into the grounds and closed the massive door.
“Aren’t you going to kill them?” asked Sitar, amazement in every feature and a puzzled expression in her splendid eyes. A murmur arose from the other Kondalians, which was quickly silenced by the Kofedix.
“It is dishonorable for a soldier of Earth to kill a helpless prisoner,” he said briefly. “We cannot understand it, but we must not attempt to sway him in any point of honor.”
Dunark stepped to the controls and the elevator shot upward, stopping at a landing several stories below the top of the dock. He took a peculiar device from his belt and fitted it over the muzzle of his strange pistol.
“We will get out here,” he instructed the others, “and go up the rest of the way by a little-used flight of stairs. We will probably encounter some few guards, but I can dispose of them without raising an alarm. You will all stay behind me, please.”
Seaton remonstrated, and Dunark went on:
“No, Seaton, you have done your share, and more. I am upon familiar ground now, and can do the work alone better than if you were to help me. I will call upon you, however, before we reach the dock.”
The Kofedix led the way, his pistol resting lightly against his hip, and at the first turn of the corridor they came full upon four guards. The pistol did not move from its place at the side of the leader, but there were four subdued clicks and the four guards dropped dead, with bullets through their brains.
“Seaton, that is some silencer,” whispered DuQuesne. “I didn’t suppose a silencer could work that fast.”
“They don’t use powder,” Seaton replied absently, all his faculties directed toward the next corner. “The bullets are propelled by an electrical charge.”
In the same manner Dunark disposed of several more guards before the last stairway was reached.
“Seaton,” he whispered in English, “now is the time we need your rapid pistol-work and your high-explosive shells. There must be hundreds of soldiers on the other side of that door, armed with machine-cannon shooting high-explosive shells at the rate of a thousand per minute. Our chance is this—their guns are probably trained upon the elevators and main stairways, since this passage is unused and none of us would be expected to know of it. Most of them don’t know of it themselves. It will take them a second or two to bring their guns to bear upon us. We must do all the damage we can—kill them all, if possible—in that second or two. If Crane will lend me a pistol, we’ll make the rush together.”
“I’ve a better scheme than that,” interrupted DuQuesne. “Next to you, Seaton, I’m the fastest man with a gun here. Also, like you, I can use both hands at once. Give me a couple of clips of those special cartridges and you and I will blow that bunch into the air before they know we’re here.”
It was decided that the two pistol experts should take the lead, closely followed by Crane and Dunark. The weapons were loaded to capacity and put in readiness for instant use.
“Let’s go, bunch!” said Seaton. “The quicker we start the quicker we’ll get back. Get ready to run out there, all the rest of you, as soon as the battle’s over. Ready? On your marks—get set—go!”
He kicked the door open and there was a stuttering crash as the four automatic pistols simultaneously burst into practically continuous flame—a crash obliterated by an overwhelming concussion of sound as the X-plosive shells, sweeping the entire roof with a rapidly-opening fan of death, struck their marks and exploded. Well it was for the little group of wanderers that the two men in the door were past masters in the art of handling their weapons; well it was that they had in their tiny pistol-bullets the explosive force of hundreds of giant shells! For rank upon rank of soldiery were massed upon the roof; rapid-fire cannon, terrible engines of destruction, were pointing toward the elevators and toward the main stairways and approaches. But so rapid and fierce was the attack, that even those trained gunners had no time to point their guns. The battle lasted little more than a second, being over before either Crane or Dunark could fire a shot, and silence again reigned even while broken and shattered remnants of the guns and fragments of the metal and stone of the dock were still falling to the ground through a fine mist of what had once been men.
Assured by a rapid glance that not a single Mardonalian remained upon the dock, Seaton turned back to the others.
“Make it snappy, bunch! This is going to be a mighty unhealthy spot for us in a few minutes.”
Dorothy threw her arms around his neck in relief. With one arm about her, he hastily led the way across the dock toward the Skylark, choosing the path with care because of the yawning holes blown into the structure by the terrific force of the explosions. The Skylark was still in place, held immovable by the attractor, but what a sight she was! Her crystal windows were shattered; her mighty plates of four-foot Norwegian armor were bent and cracked and twisted; two of her doors, warped and battered, hung awry from their broken hinges. Not a shell had struck her: all this damage had been done by flying fragments of the guns and of the dock itself; and Seaton and Crane, who had developed the new explosive, stood aghast at its awful power.
They hastily climbed into the vessel, and Seaton assured himself that the controls were uninjured.
“I hear battleships,” Dunark said. “Is it permitted that I operate one of your machine guns?”
“Go as far as you like,”
