In the glow of floodlights, a thousand workmen were laboring like
demons on some giant machine that gleamed dimly in the faint radiance.
Far, far aloft, supported by four slender towers, was a vast network of
wires.
Plainly the finishing touches to the engine were in progress. A hundred
men were fastening cables to a two-hundred ton cylinder-head which
would in a moment be hoisted into place by an electric crane. Other
workers were inspecting and oiling the giant machine.
At one end of the strange titan was a control board bearing many
levers, switches and dials; and before it stood the gaunt figure of a
man who shouted orders through an amplifier system. It was Pelton; but
how greatly changed from the plump young aviator of two months before!
His hair was wildly disheveled, and sweat streamed down his shrunken
face which, in the wan light, looked almost like a parchment mask
hiding the visage of a skull. Lack of sleep and endless hours of labor
had wrought this startling change. In spite of his worn condition,
there was something magnetic about him that could not help but inspire
confidence.
"Crew One, see to the lubrication of the cylinder valves and other
parts," he cried; "use the L. F. liquid. Crew Two, examine all the
connections of the Z wires. Crew Three, fill the main fuel tanks with
the liquid _terrorium_ preparation; Crews Four and Five will take care
of the cylinder-head. Are all the cables securely fastened? We can't
afford another mishap, you know. Good! Now start the crane."
Every man realized that it was vitally important that he should perform
his task to the best of his ability in the shortest possible time; and
every man responded to the will of his chief with the promptness of
a well-oiled machine. In a moment the mass of aluminum alloy soared
upward and settled into position.
To the south, and high in the air, a vast oval patch of white light,
looking like the head of some enormous comet, had appeared. It had
drifted ominously near, and from it there came a subdued roar. In it
thousand of insect-like specks flitted, and from them tiny points of
radiance leaped as though they were fireflies. It was the battle.
As they fought the two contesting fleets had done their best to get
above each other, to gain the advantage of position. As a result their
altitude was prodigious. They must have been fully twenty miles above
the earth.
"See! They are almost upon us," shouted Pelton. "Hurry! Ten minutes
more of delay and we will be too late! Doubtless they are already
bombing the outskirts of the city."
With all the speed they could muster the workmen bolted the
cylinder-head into place.
"Is everything ready?" cried Pelton.
"Everything is ready," echoed Jerry Armstrong, his chief subordinate.
"Then, stand back, out of danger!" Pelton twirled a few dials on the
control board; and then, grasping the big black switch at its center,
he pulled it far down. There was a series of ponderous throbs that
rapidly grew into an easy humming. The engine and the generator to
which it was connected, were in operation. Leaping in the network
of wires far above were many bright flashes like the lightning of a
violent thunderstorm.
And now all eyes in Chicago had turned fearfully and expectantly
toward the monstrous sea of light that was dropping plummet-like from
the sky upon the city. The ships were only four or five miles above
the ground now, and they could be seen quite plainly in the glow of
their searchlights and magnesium flares. The American formation had
been broken up and scattered. Apparently there was nothing that could
prevent the Asiatics from completely crushing them within the next few
minutes. Then they would destroy the city. Already an occasional bomb
was falling, like the big raindrops that herald a summer thundershower.
They contained the green chemical that gave off the gas which ate into
human flesh like sulphuric acid.
With mingled doubt, fear, and hope gnawing at his very soul, Pelton
stared at the sky. Had he calculated correctly? For a few seconds
nothing happened; then his heart leaped with a mighty exultation! From
the bow of one of America's ships a faint beam of bluish light stabbed
out and struck an enemy craft, sweeping it from stem to stern! It
passed through the vessel as though she had been made of glass, instead
of thousands of tons of metal. Immediately the dreadnaught began to
blunder oddly as though completely out of control. What had happened to
her occupants? A grim smile passed over Pelton's lips, for he knew!
[Illustration: From the bow of one of America's ships a beam of bluish
light stabbed out and struck an enemy craft. It passed thru the vessel
as tho it had been made of glass instead of thousands of tons of steel.]
Presently, other beams of blue light awoke--hundreds of
them!--thousands of them! And other Oriental craft rushed about
crazily, crashing into each other or hurtling earthward. At the very
threshold of complete success, the alchemy of fate was changing Asia's
victory into crushing defeat.