ed floating
nearer.

The trap door swung back. Taylor's right boot touched the top
rung of the ladder. He moved his left boot down to the next rung.
Each movement seemed to take ages and every exertion of his
muscles was agony as the electrical shock gripped him with
increasing intensity.

He forced his body down into the opening. He saw the flame
flickering over the surface of the sphere as the thing prepared
to strike.

The sphere seemed to pulse briefly as he released his grasp on
the rim of the opening and shoved himself downward into the hole.
He dropped several feet.

Above him a brilliant flash of fire lit the opening.

The sphere itself hovered above the hole.

CHAPTER III

PRIMARY OBJECTIVES

The sphere pulsed again. But this time no flaming whip sprang
from its surface. There was a single flash. For an instant Taylor
caught a glimpse of bestial eyes, looking angrily at him from the
center of the flash. Then there was nothing. He was in the
darkness of a tunnel. Even the charred embers of the wooden trap
door above him seemed dimmed by a cloud of dust.

The sphere had simply exploded.

Taylor had no time to analyze the situation. His hands groped
along the side of the tunnel, the one Norden had used to enter
the plant on his spying expeditions. Taylor crawled slowly,
feeling his way. It seemed eternity until at last he reached the
end of the passage and felt the trap door overhead.

A minute later he rejoined the others, huddled in darkness
outside the gate.

"The searchlight went out," Masters explained. "Something wrong
with the power, I guess."

"I know what it was," Taylor said gruffly. He turned to the
disarmed sentry. "Has anyone come out of here since the factory
stopped working?"

"Nobody but him, sir," the soldier said, jerking his thumb at the
sobbing man huddled against Norden. "He said his name was
Orkins--Jim Orkins. He works in the warehouse. But you can't tell
anything about the rest o' what he says. He just babbles, sir.
Something about livin' lightnin' and balls of fire. He ain't
drunk, sir, so he must be crazy."

"Help him get up," Taylor ordered. "Masters, you take charge of
Norden. We're going back to the car."

"Excuse me, sir," the sentry said, hesitantly. "But that's
against orders. I can't leave. I'm to guard this gate, sir."

"Your orders are canceled," the captain said.

"If I desert my post, it's court martial," the sentry explained.
"How do I know