g
to us until we cracked, even if it meant that they'd have to freeze to
death out here themselves!"

"It would have meant that, too, don't you think?" asked Stevens.

"I imagine so--don't see how they could possibly have enough power left
to get back to Jupiter if they shine that thing on us much longer. Of
course, the more power they waste on us, the quicker we can take them;
but I don't want much more of that beam, I'll tell the world--I just
about had heart failure before they cut off!"

The massive heptagon was now drifting back toward Jupiter at constant
velocity. The hexans were apparently hoarding jealously their remaining
power, for their wall screens did not flash on at the touch of the
visiray. Through unresisting metal the probing Terrestrial beams sped,
and the scientists studied minutely every detail of the Vorkulian
armament; while the regular observers began to make a detailed
photographic survey of every room and compartment of the great fortress.
Much of the instrumentation and machinery was familiar, but some of it
was so strange that study was useless--days of personal inspection and
experiment, perhaps complete dismantling, would be necessary to reveal
the secrets hidden within those peculiar mechanisms.

"They're trying to save all the power they can--think I'll make them
spend some more," Brandon remarked, and directed against the heptagon a
heavy destructive beam. "We don't want them to get back to Jupiter until
after we've boarded them and found out everything we want to know. Come
here, Quince--what do you make of this?"

Both men stared at the heptagon, frankly puzzled; for the screens of the
strange vessel did not radiate, nor did the material of the walls yield
under the terrible force of the beam. The destructive ray simply struck
that dull green surface and vanished--disappeared without a trace, as a
tiny stream of water disappears into a partially-soaked sponge.

"Do you know what you are doing?" asked Westfall, after a few minutes'
thought. "I believe that you are charging their accumulators at the rate
of," he glanced at a meter, "exactly thirty-one thousand five hundred
kilofranks."

"Great Cat!" Brandon's hand flashed to a switch and the beam expired.
"But they can't just simply grab it and store it, Quince--it's
impossible!"

"The word 'impossible' in that connection, coming from you, has a queer
sound," Westfall said pointedly and Brandon actually blushed.

"That's right,