in silence....

"Tearing at our ports!" Harkness was filled with a blinding nausea as
he sensed what had come with the crash. The opening ports--the
out-rush of air released to the thin atmosphere of those upper levels!
Earth pressure within the cabins of the ship; then in an
instant--none! Every man, every woman and child on the giant craft,
had died instantly!

The announcer had resumed, but above the sound was a guttural voice
that shouted hoarsely in accents of dismay. "Eighty-seven-G!"
Schwartzmann was exclaiming, "--Mein Gott! It iss our own ship, the
Alaskan! Our crack flyer!"

* * * * *

Harkness heard him but an instant, for another thought was hammering
at his brain. The position!--the ship's position!--it was almost above
his experimental plant! And Chet was there, and the ship.... What had
Chet said? He would fly it in two days--and this was the second day!
Chet had no radio-news; no instrument had been installed in the shop;
they had depended upon the one in Harkness' own ship. And now--

Walt Harkness' clear understanding had brought a vision that was
sickening, so plainly had he glimpsed the scene of terror in that
distant cabin. And now he saw with equal clarity another picture.
There was Chet, smiling, unafraid, proud of their joint accomplishment
and of the gleaming metal shape that he was lifting carefully from its
bed. He was floating it out to the open air; he was taking off, and
up--up where some horror awaited.

"Monsters!" that thin voice had cried in a tone that was vibrant with
terror. What could it be?--great ships out of space?--an invasion? Or
beasts?... But Harkness' vision failed him there. He knew only that a
fast ship was moored just outside. He had planned vaguely to seize it;
he had needed it for his own escape; but he needed it a thousand times
more desperately now. Chet might have been delayed, and he must warn
him.... The thoughts were flashing like hot sparks through his brain
as he leaped.

* * * * *

He bore the heavier body of Schwartzmann to the floor. He rained
smashing blows upon him with a furious frenzy that would not be
curbed. The weapon with its deadly detonite bullet came toward him.
In the same burst of fury he tore the weapon from the hand that held
it; then sprang to his feet to stand wild-eyed and panting is he aimed
the pistol at the cursing man and dragged him to his feet.

"The ship!" he sa