Science fiction; Space flight -- Fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
"Go as far as you like," responded Seaton, as he placed the women
beneath the copper bar--the safest place in the vessel--and leaped to
the instrument board. Before he reached it, and while DuQuesne, Crane,
and Dunark were hastening to the guns, the whine of giant
helicopter-screws was plainly heard. A ranging shell from the first
warship, sighted a little low, exploded against the side of the dock
beneath them. He reached the levers just as the second shell screamed
through the air a bare four feet above them. As he shot the Skylark into
the air under five notches of power, a steady stream of the huge bombs
poured through the spot where, an instant before, the vessel had been.
Crane and DuQuesne aimed several shots at the battleships, which were
approaching from all sides, but the range was so extreme that no damage
was done.
They heard the continuous chattering of the machine gun operated by the
Kofedix, however, and turned toward him. He was shooting, not at the
warships, but at the city rapidly growing smaller beneath them; moving
the barrel of the rifle in a tiny spiral; spraying the entire city with
death and destruction! As they looked, the first of the shells reached
the ground, just as Dunark ceased firing for lack of ammunition. They
saw the palace disappear as if by magic, being instantly blotted out in
a cloud of dust--a cloud which, with a spiral motion of dizzying
rapidity, increased in size until it obscured the entire city.
* * * * *
Having attained sufficient altitude to be safe from any possible pursuit
and out of range of even the heaviest guns, Seaton stopped the vessel
and went out into the main compartment to consult with the other
members of the group, about their next move.
"It sure does feel good to get a breath of cool air, folks," he said, as
he drew with relief a deep breath of the air, which, at that great
elevation, was of an icy temperature and very thin. He glanced at the
little group of Kondalians as he spoke, then leaped back to the
instrument board with an apology on his lips--they were gasping for
breath and shivering with the cold. He switched on the heating coils and
dropped the Skylark rapidly in a long descent toward the ocean.
"If that is the temperature you enjoy, I understand at last why you wear
clothes," said the Kofedix, as soon as he could talk.
"Do not your planes fly up into the regions of low temperature?" asked
Crane.
"Only occasionally, and all high-flying vessels are enclosed and heated
to our normal temperature. We have heavy wraps, but we dislike to wear
them so intensely that we never subject ourselves to any cold."
"Well, there's no accounting for tastes," returned Seaton, "but I can't
hand your climate a thing. It's hotter even than Washington in August;
'and that,' as the poet feelingly remarked, 'is going some!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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