*

And the crack would get worse, I knew. It would gradually spread and
widen. The Erentz circulation would fail. All our power would be
drained struggling to maintain it. This brigand who had unwittingly
committed suicide by his daring act had accomplished more than he
perhaps had realized. I could envisage our weapons, useless from lack
of power. The air in our buildings turning fetid and frigid: ourselves
forced to the helmets. A rush out to abandon the camp and escape. The
buildings exploding--scattering into a litter on the ledge like a
child's broken toy. The treasure abandoned, with the brigands coming
up and loading it on their ship.

Our defeat. In a few hours now--or minutes. This crack could slowly
widen, or it could break suddenly at any time. Disaster, come now so
abruptly upon us at the very start of the brigand attack....

Grantline's voice in my audiphone broke my despairing rush of
thoughts. "Bad. Come on, Gregg; nothing to do here."

We were aware that our other four men had run along the building's
other side. They emerged now--with the running brigands in front of
them, rushing out toward the staircase on the ledge. Three giant
Martian figures in flight, with our four men chasing.

A bullet projector spat, with its queer stab of exploding powder fed
by the burning oxygen fumes of its artificial air-chamber--one of our
men firing. A brigand fell to the rocks by the brink of the ledge. The
others reached the descending staircase, tumbled down it with reckless
leaps.

Our men turned back. Before we could join them, the enemy ship down in
the valley sent up a cautious search-beam which located its returning
men. Then the beam swung up to the ledge, landed upon us.

We stood confused, blinded by the brilliant glare. Grantline stumbled
against me.

"Run, Gregg! They'll be firing at us."

We dashed away. Our companions joined us, rushing back for the porte.
I saw it open, reinforcements coming out to help us--half a dozen
figures carrying a ten-foot insulated shield. They could barely get it
out through the porte.

* * * * *

The Martian search-ray abruptly vanished. Then almost instantly the
electronic ray came with its deadly stab. Missed us at first, as we
ran for the shield. It vanished, and stabbed again. It caught us, but
now we were behind the shield, carrying it back to the porte, hiding
behind it.

The ray stabbed once or twice more.

Whether Miko's