We rushed to the nearest descending ladder. In the deserted lower room
the bank of dials stood neglected. A score of dials and switches were
here, governing the magnetism of different areas of the ship. There
should have been a night operator, but he was gone.
Than we saw him lying nearby, sprawled, face down on the floor! In the
silence and dim, lurid glow of the fluorescent tubes, we stood holding
our breaths, peering and listening. No one here.
The guard was not dead. He lay unconscious from a blow on the head. A
brawny fellow. We had him revived in a few moments. A broadcast flash
of the call buzz brought Dr. Frank from the chart room.
"What's the matter?"
"Someone was here," I said hastily, "experimenting with the magnetic
switches. Evidently unfamiliar with them--pulling one or another to
test their workings and so see their reactions on the dials."
We told him what had happened to Snap in the corridor; the guard here
was no worse off for the episode, save a lump on the head by an
invisible assailant. We left him nursing his head, sitting belligerent
at his post, alert to any danger and armed now with my heat-ray
cylinder.
"Strange doings this voyage," he told us. "All the crew knows it. I'll
stick it out now, but when we get back home I'm done with this star
travelin'. I belong on the sea anyway."
We hurried back to the upper level. We would indeed have to plan
something at this chart room conference. This was the first tangible
attack our adversaries had made.
We were on the passenger deck headed for the chart room when all three
of us stopped short, frozen with horror. Through the silent passenger
quarters a scream rang out! A girl's shuddering, gasping scream.
Terror in it. Horror. Or a scream of agony. In the silence of the
dully vibrating ship it was utterly horrible.... It lasted an
instant--a single long scream; then was abruptly stilled.
And with blood pounding my temples and rushing like ice through my
veins, I recognized it.
Anita!