The commander made his decision. The ship streaked in, dancing like a zephyr to avoid the crystalline ray. But there was no longer any great danger from this because the tilt of the deck made accurate aiming impossible for the Ptomenites.
Straight in for the kill now, came the Baserite ship; straight in toward the crippled deck awash with the blood of smashed and maimed soldiers; alive with the screams of the agonized and the dying.
Doree covered her face with her hands and came into Mike's arms. So she did not see that the Ptomenites had one maneuver left; a perilous one, but nonetheless a maneuver.
The craft was now over the level ground on the near outskirts of the city. It hung motionless, allowing the Baserite craft to take deadly aim.
But as the sleek ship rocketed in, the commander of the Ptomenite craft waited until the last moment and then released whatever force held the ship in the air. The split deck dropped like a stone, but too late for the other ship to change course.
The Baserites had gambled and lost. As the ship arced again skyward, a dozen similar fighters closed in from two directions. They emitted the deadly crystalline fire. For a few moments, the Baserite ship seemed unharmed. Then it's hull began to glow; a faint pink, a cherry red, a bright crimson. Then a brilliant explosion lighted a sky made hazy by the descending sun. And there was nothing.
Even as the Ptomenite ship plummetted downward, Mike marveled at the effectiveness of the crystalline ray. Nothing remotely resembling it existed in the universe he knew. Then his attention was concentrated solely upon perils of the moment The Ptomenite commander was not able to stop the rapid descent. He could only lessen it slightly and Mike held Doree tight in his arms when the crash came.
He noted, fleetingly, that neither McKee nor Talbott had been injured by the thrust of the Baserite ship. The door to the after cabin was open and he saw them crouching inside, terror written across their faces. Standing above them, proud and erect in the face of death, stood the Princess Katal'halee and Mike felt a touch of admiration.
Then the craft hit the ground....
Mike realized he was not unconscious. He realized also that the ship had braked slightly against the rocketing drop at just the last moment.
It had blunted the force of the impact but little, however, and chaos reigned upon the shattered deck. Mike found that both Nicko and Doree were unconscious but that the H'Lorkan tribesman was shaking his head groggily.
Mike looked swiftly about. The dust cleared slightly nearby and he saw that the prow of the deck had buckled as it hit, leaving a dark opening beneath. There was room for a man in there. Mike glanced around. In the confusion, no one was paying any attention to the prisoners. Help was coming from the city but the rescuers were still quite a distance away.
Mike motioned to the H'Lorkan, gesturing frantically. The other quickly understood. Mike picked Doree up and put her inside the dark opening. He followed her and moved her further inside away from the small opening.
Then he looked out to find that the H'Lorkan had had difficulty with Nicko, but had found a way of grasping him so as not to get cut by the sharp scales. He pushed the little Martian's body in to Mike and followed quickly.
Mike turned immediately to Doree and began examining her for injury.
There was a small gash on her forehead and a bruise on her shoulder.
She moaned and opened her eyes.
Mike put a finger over her lips. "Be very quiet."
"Where are we? What happened?"
"The ship crashed," he whispered, "but we may be safe for a while."
Doree smiled weakly. "I thought it was the end."
"How do you feel?"
"All right--I guess. Nothing seems to be broken."
"Lie and rest." Mike turned and found Nicko was sitting up, his eyes open but still a trifle vacant. "You okay?"
"Guess so. They couldn't kill me with a club but I get knocked out coming downstairs."
"Something must have hit you on the head just right."
"Something sure did. Tell me, what's the situation?"
"I don't know. I'm playing it from hand to mouth. We're hidden under the ruins of the ship."
"They'll be after us."
"If they weren't killed." Mike found a small opening and peered out.
Help had come from the city now and he saw a line of stretcher bearers moving away from the wreck. His spirits rose as he identified three of the casualties. McKee, Talbott, Katal'halee. Were any or all of them dead? He had no way of knowing. But at least they appeared to be past caring about the four prisoners--at least for a time.
This did not insure safety however. The entrance to the improvised cave darkened and a face appeared. Mike held his breath, expecting challenge and exposure.
But none came. Then Mike realized that dusk had fallen and the eyes of the searcher could not penetrate their hiding place with any degree of surety. There were sharp words in the alien tongue. Obviously the searcher was calling for any trapped or injured person.
Desperately, Mike hoped he would let it go at that. But such was not the case. The man got down on his knees and pushed inside.
He found himself taken instantly into the iron grasp of three desperate tenants. The H'Lorkan got him by the legs, Nicko hit him in the middle, and Mike got strong hands on his throat, drove powerful fingers into it, shutting off the man's breath forever.
The man struggled helplessly for a few moments. Then he lay still as Mike snapped his neck suddenly backward and broke it.
The darkness served another purpose. It kept Doree from the horror of seeing a man killed not two feet from her eyes. But she realized what was happening and buried her face in her hands.
"I'm sorry," Mike whispered. "But this is a matter of survival. Try and look at it in that light."
There was nothing to do now but wait. Mike's hopes were slim and desperate ones--that the slain man would not be missed for a while, and that the wreckage of the ship would not be cleared away until the following day.
The time dragged. Activity around the wreck dwindled and died out.
Total darkness had not yet come and Mike prayed for a few more minutes of safety. But he was not to get it. A commotion over toward the city brought him to a break in the wreckage through which he could scan the area. A huge derrick-like affair, encrusted with the usual gold and gems, was lumbering toward the wrecked platform. A gang of workmen followed on foot. Incandescent balls were carried by another group, brightly illuminating the scene.
"We've got to run for it!" Mike said. "Out--everybody! Run straight to the left! There's an airfield over there. McKee and Talbott's ship is on the far edge. I saw it just before we fell!"
The four wormed their way out from under the wreckage. "That ship should be primed to go!" Nicko said with excitement.
"That's what I'm hoping."
"No!" Doree cried, and pulled away from Mike. "No! I won't go away from here and leave my father! We've got to try to help him!"
Mike did not hesitate. He swung a short solid right. It cracked against Doree's jaw and she went limp. "Sorry," he said grimly, "but this is no time to argue."
"We're going to hit that ship and blast out?" Nicko asked.
"What else? She'll hate me for it, but we've got to use common sense.
There's nothing we can do for Professor Brandon this trip. Maybe we can come back later."