Suddenly the blaster seemed to turn ice cold in Kort's hand. For a moment, he doubted his ability to press the trigger. His nerves seemed frozen, incapable of action in the dread need of the moment. As though a hand other than his own had loosed it, he saw the bolt stab white-hot across the cabin, its crash far louder than in the stokehole, the tang of ozone sharp instantly after. Hodge leaped wildly, spun around in open mouthed astonishment. Silently Kort pointed to the bunk, behind which the painted bulkhead showed a sear of flame. Sprawled across Spale's body lay the dingy white carcass of a sea slug, streaked and blackened by the bolt. "It came through the bulkhead," said Kort tensely. "Maybe it was the one that got Spale. There wasn't time to warn you." "Thanks, son. Dying by the _kilwanni_ would be a pleasure compared to making a meal for _that_. But how come?" "I took a chance," Kort said slowly. "I took the choke condenser off. That's what limits each bolt to a twentieth of the drum's capacity and damps out all oscillation. Without it the whole drum fired at once, and because the charge oscillated it lasted about a hundred times as long as before--long enough to bridge the thing's vibratory period. The bolt hit while it was there, and killed it." Hodge snatched up the drums and stuffed them into his pockets. "Come on! We'll roast out the rest of 'em--what's wrong, son?" Kort laid the blaster wearily upon the desk. "Look at it. The full drum charge burnt out the electrode tube." His voice was bitter. "I forgot that, too. We'd need a new blaster for each one!" Hodge's ruddy, wind-roughened face paled to grayness. He threw the drums alongside the ruined weapon, cursing steadily. Idly Kort prodded the dingy white carcass with the barrel of his electro gun. It was quite solid, indubitably dead. He pushed it off Spale, and it landed with a _thunk_ on the floor. "Hodge!" he said suddenly. "Come with me." He ran from the cabin. His flashlight, lighting the pitch dark passages of the deserted ship, found the catwalk above the stokehole. "Well, I'm blessed!" murmured Hodge a moment later. Five bodies lay in the black pit below. There was still a faint glow of embers in the firebox. But although Kort flashed the light everywhere, there was no sign of the sea slugs. "What are we waitin' for?" demanded Hodge fiercely. It was he who led now. Seconds later, log after log of the furiously inflammable _kwahna_ was disappearing into the fire-boxes. Blowers, powered by auxiliary batteries, shrieked at full speed. Mercury surged and simmered within the tubes. Behind the fire doors infernos raged. Once Hodge vanished briefly to close the anti-grid switches and open the throttles of the high potential shield generators. Kort steadily kept on feeding the voracious boilers. There was as yet no pressure to turn the lighting dynamos. He worked by the gleam of flames alone.