ultra-protected domes which, their commanders knew,
sheltered the vitally important Bergenholms and controls. They then loosed forces of
their own. Forces of such appalling magnitude as to burn out in a twinkling of an eye
projector-shells of a refractoriness to withstand for ten full seconds the maximum output
of a first-class battleship's primary batteries!
The resultant beam was of very short duration, but of utterly intolerable
poignancy. No material substance could endure it even momentarily. It pierced instantly
the hardest, tightest wall-shield known to the scientists of the Patrol. It was the only
known thing which could cut or rupture the ultimately stubborn fabric of a Q-type helix.
Hence it is not to be wondered at that as those incredible needles of ravening energy
stabbed and stabbed and stabbed again at Boskonian domes every man of the Patrol,
even Kimball Kinnison, fully expected those domes to go down.
But those domes held. And those fixed-mount projectors hurled back against the
super-maulers forces at the impact of which course after course of fierce-driven
defensive screen flamed through the spectrum and went down.
"Back! Get them back!" Kinnison whispered, white-lipped, and the attacking
structures sullenly, stubbornly gave way.
"Why?" gritted Haynes. "They're all we've got."
"You forget the new one, chief—give us a chance."
"What makes you think it'll work?" the old admiral flashed the searing thought. "It
probably won't—and if it doesn't. . ."
"If it doesn't," the younger man shot back, "we're no worse off than now to use
the maulers. But we've got to use the sunbeam now while those planets are together
and before they start toward Tellus."
"QX," the admiral assented; and, as soon as the Patrol's maulers were out of the
way:
"Verne?" Kinnison flashed a thought. "We can't crack 'em. Looks like it's up to
you—what do you say?"
"Jury-rigged—don't know whether she'll light a cigarette or not—but here she
comes!"
The sun, shining so brightly, darkened almost to the point of invisibility. War-
vessels of the enemy disappeared, each puffing out into a tiny but brilliant sparkle of
light.
Then, before the beam could effect the enormous masses of the planets, the
engineers lost it. The sun flashed up— dulled—brightened—darkened—wavered. The
beam waxed and waned irregularly; the planets began to move away under the urgings
of their now thoroughly scared commanders.
Again, while millions upon millions of tensely straining Patrol officers stared into
their plates, haggard Thorndyke and his sweating crews got the sunbeam under
control— and, in a heart-stopping wavering fashion, held it together. It
flared—sputtered—ballooned out—but very shortly, before they could get out of its way,
the planets began to glow. Ice-caps melted, then boiled. Oceans boiled, their surfaces
almost exploding into steam. Mountain ranges melted and flowed sluggishly down into
valleys. The Boskonian domes of force went down and stayed down.
"QX, Kim—let be," Haynes ordered. "No use overdoing it. Not bad-looking
planets; maybe we can use them for something."
The sun brightened to its wonted splendor, the planets began visibly to
cool—even the Titanic forces then at work had heated those planetary masses only
superficially.
The battle was over.
"What in all the purple hells of Palain did you do, Haynes, and how?" demanded
the Z9M9Z's captain.
"He used the whole damned solar system as a vacuum tube!" Haynes explained,
gleefully. "Those power stations out there, with all their motors and intake screens, are
simply the power leads. The asteroid belts, and maybe some of the planets, are the
grids and plates. The sun is . . ."
"Hold on, chief!" Kinnison broke in. "That isn't quite it. You see, the