There was no need of going to the instrument room. From the windows
fronting the brink of the cliff the brigand ship was plainly visible.
It came sailing from Archimedes, a dark shape blurring the stars. All
its lights were extinguished save a single white search beam in the
bow peak, slanting diagonally down.
The beam presently caught our group of buildings; its glare shone in
the windows as it clung for a moment. I could envisage the triumphant
curiosity of Potan and his men up there, gazing along the beam.
We had dimmed the lights to conserve our power, and to enable the
Erentz motors to run at full capacity. Our buildings would have to
withstand the brigands' rays which soon would be upon us.
Outside on our dim, Earthlit cliff, the tiny lights showed where our
few guards were lurking. As I stood at the window watching the
incoming ship, Grantline's voice sounded:
"Call in those men! Ring the call-lights, Franck!"
The siren buzzed over the camp's interior; the warning call-lights on
the roof brought in the outer guards. They came running to the
admission ports, which had been repaired after Miko disabled them.
The guards came in. We dimmed our lights further. The treasure sheds
were black against the cliff behind us. No need for guards there--we
reasoned the brigands would not attempt to move it until our buildings
were captured. But, if they should try it, we were prepared to defend
it.
In the dim light we crouched. A silence was upon us save for the
clanging in the workshop down the corridor. Most of us wore our Erentz
suits, with helmets ready, though I am sure there was not a man of us
but who prayed he might not have to go out. At many of the
windows--our weakest points to withstand the rays--insulated fabric
sheets were hung like curtains.
The brigand ship slowly advanced. It was soon over the opposite rim of
our little crater. Its searchbeam swung about the rim and down the
valley.
My thoughts ran like a turgid stream as I stood tensely watching.
Four hours ago I had sent that flash signal to Earth. If it was
received, a patrol ship could come to our rescue and arrive here in
another eight hours--or perhaps even less.
Ah, that "if!" _If_ the signal was received! _If_ the patrol ship were
immediately available. _If_ it started at once....
Eight hours at the very least. I tried to assure myself that we could
hold out that long.
The brigand ship crossed the opposite crater rim. It dropped lower. It
seemed poised over the crater valley, almost at our own level and less
than two miles from us. Its searchbeam vanished. For a moment it
hung, a sleek, cylindrical silver shape, gleaming in the Earthlight.