The Speaker looked in horror at the sphere of water in his hand. "We'll have to give in--" "Damned if we will," the other snarled, pacing up and down. "If we could find out where that ship is, we could send a super-tension ship down and blow it to--" He stopped, his eyes lighting. He wheeled. "Didn't Olduk say 'ten miles' below the surface? Damn! There aren't many places that deep--" He snapped his fingers, and reached for a phone. * * * * * Three hours later, a bullet-shaped rocket ship, able to withstand thousands of tons' pressure, and reinforced with an intangible force-field, fled away from the continent, bound for the Maracot Deep; for such was the first choice, and, as it happened, it was the last. High above the ocean, the pilot turned the craft nose-down, and poured full power into his jets. The craft plunged for the surface of the hard ocean, at frightful velocity; struck; penetrated; was under, velocity broken almost in three by the terrific impact. The ship bored down, powerful searchlights playing on swarms of startled fishes. Down, down. The pilot made an exclamation, grinned his triumph. Here, ten miles down, they saw the hulk of the ship that was causing such destruction in the world above. The pilot signaled one of his subordinates. The man pulled a lever. The craft's entire load of super-explosives sank downward toward the menace. The pilot sent his ship blasting for the surface. Seconds later he heard and felt the tremendous vibration that, he knew, heralded the end of the menace. He went toward the surface, and when within fifty feet of it, sent a blast of power into his jets. The ship struck something, like a wall, hard, unyielding, and the pilot and his assistants were thrown against the instrument board. They recovered their senses. The pilot looked at the other men. "Ten tons of helio-hydrogen didn't do the trick," he said softly. "What will? You know, I almost forgot. The science of the Martians is way ahead of ours. Naturally, that ship wouldn't be exactly tender...." He knew it was useless. He had no more explosives. He shoved every atom of power he had into his jets, but the ship could not move more than forty miles an hour under water. For a moment it seemed the blunt nose of the ship was going to penetrate the incredibly tough under-surface of that film, but no.... The pilot said, grinning crookedly, "Say your prayers, boys, and here's hoping they give the Old Duck what he wants--quick." Two days passed. Three billion people stared into the face of eternity. Rivers, lakes, oceans were full. There were reservoirs of clear, sparkling water, from which laboring pumps could take water, pumping it to homes, making it accessible, forcing it out of faucets. But it was untouchable. The water came out in impenetrable spheres.