But over each cage the heavy ceiling plates had been ripped free by the force of the explosion, and where the imprisoned men had been, only twisted bars and sheets of _arelium_ steel were visible. The entire level was a tomb of silence. Standish choked back a sob. His men all dead! Crushed like rats in a trap. He crossed to the ladder leading to the third and main level, climbing slowly. Reaching the crew deck, he rocked backward again with a cry of dismay. Here, too, the fearful destruction was evident on all sides. Uniformed Sirians lay dead in the scuppers. The entire bridge house was a mass of fallen girders and broken metal. The officers' quarters had been crushed like an eggshell. Only the steering cuddy and control room had been spared. But here, too, Standish found death had not spared the occupants. A pintax bar, ripped free from its rocker arms, had jammed itself like an exploded cartridge into the pilot's skull. All in the control room had died of fumes forced into the chamber when the motors backcharged through the instrument pipes. * * * * * From cabin to cabin Standish went from the living quarters of the crew in the forecastle, to the ammunition chamber in the stern. Everywhere he found destruction and death. And slowly the fact dawned upon him that he alone aboard was alive. He had been spared because he had been imprisoned in the lower hull, and that section of the ship had escaped damage. Slowly he sank onto a settee and tried to reconstruct his thoughts. A few hours ago as defense engineer for Earth, he had generaled a daring undercover attack against the Sirian's main base at San Francisco. For ten years--since 3010--the war between Earth and Sirius had been going on, with Earth the stage for all battles of the conflict. The cause of the war was long forgotten. Earth people only knew that the Sirians, greedy for more land, had successfully vanquished Mars and Venus and were steadily closing in on terrestrial territory. Already Australia and Asia had fallen. With every known device of interplanetary warfare, the Sirians had captured district after district, until the American continent alone remained untrampled by the invaders. But Standish's story had begun a week before. Through an operative in his vast espionage system, he had learned that the Sirians under command of the ruthless Drum Faggard, were preparing for the "big push." With a dozen chosen companions disguised as Sirians, the Earth engineer had successfully passed through the enemy lines. He had hoped to capture Drum Faggard and a number of his officers-of-staff and race with them back to the Earth's front line breastworks at Omaha. It was a wild scheme; but Standish knew if Faggard were captured, the war would collapse.