and in the teleview
screen they watched the grim struggle of ship against ship.

Imperceptibly, almost, as her screws cut in and churned, the forward
progress of the _NX-1_ was slowing, the speed of the other being cut
down, until finally they but barely forged ahead. Slowly, ever so
slowly they were out-pulled; inch by inch they were dragged ahead.
Their motors could not hold even.

"She's more powerful than we!" Wells' bitter voice spoke. "Damn!" He
thought desperately, while Bowman and Brown stared at the fantastic
tale the teleview spelled out.

Again the paralyzing shock tingled, an intangible jailer that bound
them, more surely than steel bars, to the control room. To dare that
streaming barrage meant instant impotence, and perhaps, later,
death....

"Our two bow torpedoes," Keith mused slowly. "We're a bit close, but
it's our only chance. The ray comes at intervals of about a minute;
the torps are ready for firing. If one of us could dash forward and
discharge 'em.... Brown, that's you!"

The petty officer met his commander's gaze levelly. He smiled. "Yes,
sir, I'm ready!" he said.

"Good! It'll have to be quick work, though; I'll try and keep the sub
pointed straight. Wait for the ray, then run like hell!"

* * * * *

The first officer took over the helm and Brown stepped to the forward
ladder, waiting for the periodic ray to be discharged.

The odd tingle came and vanished. "Now!" Wells roared, and Brown
leaped down the thin steel rungs.

He staggered at the bottom from the force of his impact, then
straightened and raced madly forward. Through the drone of the motors
the two officers could hear the staccato beat of his feet.

But their eyes were glued to the teleview. Through clutching beds of
seaweed the enemy submarine was ploughing. Her great, smooth bow lay
straight ahead, metal hawser arm spanning the thirty feet between
them. In another second, Keith thought grimly, two dynamite packed
tubes of sudden death would thunderbolt into that hull, and--

Brown pulled the lever.

The tubes spat out compressed air; a scream ran through the submarine;
and the two steel fish leaped from their sheaths, their tiny props
roaring. Over the narrow gulf they shot; the range was short, their
target dead ahead--and yet by bare inches they missed!

No answering roar bellowed back. Keith had watched their course; had
seen them flash by the enemy's bow, flicking it with their r