a diamond drill cutting out a core. You won't be
able to shove anything into the hole from outside the beam, so you'll
have to steer your cans out through the central orifice of number ten
projector--that'll be cold, since I'm going to use only the outer ring.
I don't know how long I'll be able to hold the hole open, though, so
shoot them along as fast as you can. Ready? Here goes!"

He pressed a series of contacts. Far below, in number ten converter
room, massive switches drove home and the enormous mass of the vessel
quivered under the terrific reaction of the newly-calculated,
semi-material beam of energy that was hurled out, backed by the
mightiest of all the mighty converters and generators of Triplanetary's
super-dreadnaught. That beam, a pipe-like hollow cylinder of intolerable
energy, flashed out, and there was a rending, tearing crash as it struck
Roger's hitherto impenetrable wall. Struck and clung, grinding, boring
in, while from the raging inferno that marked the circle of contact of
cylinder and shield the pirate's screen radiated scintillating torrents
of crackling, streaming sparks, lightning like in length and in
intensity.

Deeper and deeper the gigantic drill was driven. It was through! Pierced
Roger's polycyclic screen; exposed the bare metal of Roger's walls! And
now, concentrated upon one point, flamed out in seemingly redoubled fury
Triplanetary's raging beams--in vain. For even as they could not
penetrate the screen, neither could they penetrate the wall of
Cleveland's drill, but rebounded from it in the cascaded brilliance of
thwarted lightning.

"Oh, what a dumb-bell I am!" groaned Cleveland. "Why, oh _why_ didn't I
have somebody rig up a secondary SX7 beam on Ten's inner rings? Hop to
it, will you, Blake, so that we'll have it in case they are able to stop
the cans?"

But the pirates could not stop all of Triplanetary's projectiles, now
hurrying along inside the pipe as fast as they could be driven. In fact,
for a few minutes gray Roger, knowing that he faced the first real
defeat of his long life, paid no attention to them at all, nor to any of
his useless offensive weapons: he struggled only to break away from the
savage grip of the _Boise's_ tractor rod. Futile. He could neither cut
nor stretch that inexorably anchoring beam. Then he devoted his every
resource to the closing of that unbelievable breach in his shield.
Equally futile. His most desperate efforts resulted only in more
frenz