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primitive weapon such as a knife held in reverse position? You go with Zezdon Afthen. Try holding a carving knife by the blade.”

Morey grinned as he got into his power suit, on Wade’s OK of the atmosphere. “They may mistake me for the cook out looking for dinner, and I wouldn’t risk my dignity that way. I’ll take the baseball bat and hold it wrong way instead.”

Nevertheless, as he stepped from the ship, with Afthen close behind, he held the long knife by the blade, and Afthen, very awkwardly operating his still rather unfamiliar power suit, followed.

Into the intensely blue sunlight the men stepped. Their skin and clothing took on a peculiar tint under the strange sunlight.

The single stranger was joined by a second, also holding a reversed weapon, and together they threw them down. Morey and Zezdon Afthen followed suit. The two parties advanced toward each other.

The strangers advanced with a swift, light step, jumping from rock to rock, while Morey and Afthen flew part way toward them. The men of this world were totally unlike any intelligent race Morey had conceived of. Their head and brain case was so small as to be almost animalish. The nose was small and well formed, the ears more or less cup-shaped with a remarkable power of motion. Their eyes were seemingly huge, probably no larger than a terrestrian’s, though in the tiny head they were necessarily closely placed, protected by heavy bony ridges that actually projected from the skull to enclose them. Tiny, childlike chins completed the head, running down to a scrawny neck.

They were short, scarcely five feet, yet evidently of tremendous strength for their short, heavy arms, the muscle bulging plainly under the tight rubber-like composition garments, and the short legs whose stocky girth proclaimed equal strength were members of a body in keeping with them. The deep, broad chest, wide, square shoulders, heavy broad hips, combined with the tiny head seemed to indicate a perfect incarnation of brainless, brute strength.

“Strangers from another planet, enemies of our enemies. What brings you here at this time of troubles?” The thoughts came clearly from the stocky individual before them.

“We seek to aid, and to find aid. The menace that you face, attacks not alone your world, but all this star cluster,” replied Zezdon Afthen steadily.

The stranger shook his head with an evident expression of hopelessness. “The menace is even greater than we feared. It was just fortune that permitted us to have our weapon in workable condition at the time your ship was attacked. It will be a day before the machine will again be capable of successful operation. When in condition for use, it is invincible, but⁠—one blow in thirty hours⁠—you can see we are not of great aid.” He shrugged.

An enemy with evident resources of tremendous power, deadly, unknown rays that wiped out entire cities with a single brief sweep⁠—and no defense save this single weapon, good but once a day! Morey could read the utter despair of the man.

“What is the difficulty?” asked Morey eagerly.

“Power, lack of power. Our cities are going without power, while every electric generator on the planet is pouring its output into the accumulators that work these damnable, hopeless things. Invincible with power⁠—helpless without.”

“Ah!” Morey’s face shone with delight⁠—invincible weapon⁠—with power. And the Ancient Mariner could generate unthinkable power.

“What power source do you use⁠—how do you generate your power?”

“Combining oxidizing agent with reducing agents releases heat. Heat used to boil liquid and the vapor runs turbines.”

“We can give you power. What wattage have you available?”

Only Morey’s thoughts had to translate “watts” to “How many man-weights can you lift through your height per time interval, equal to this.” He gave the man some impression of a second, by counting. The man figured rapidly. His answer indicated that approximately a total of two billion kilowatts were available.

“Then the weapon is invincible hereafter, if what you say is true. Our ship alone can easily generate ten thousand times that power.

“Come, get in the ship, accompany us to your capital.”

The men turned, and retreated to their position behind the rocks, while Morey and Zezdon Afthen waited for them. Soon they returned, and entered the ship.

“Our world,” explained the leader rapidly, “is a single unified colony. The capital is ‘Shesto,’ our world we call ‘Talso.’ ” His directions were explicit, and Arcot started for Shesto, on Talso.

VIII Undefeatable or Uncontrollable?

Fifteen minutes after they started, they came to Shesto. They were forced to land, and explain, for their relux ship was decidedly not the popular Talsonian idea of a lifesaver.

Shesto was defended by two of the machines, and each machine had been equipped with two fully charged accumulators. Their four possible shots were hoped to be sufficient protection, and, so far, had been. The city had been attacked twice, according to Tho Stan Drel, the Talsonian: once by a single ship which had been instantly destroyed, and once by a fleet of six ships. The interval had permitted time to recharge the discharged accumulator, and the fleet had been badly treated. Of the six ships, four had been brought down in rapid succession, and the remaining two ships had fled.

When the first city had been wiped out, with a loss of life well in the hundreds of thousands, the other cities had, to limit of their abilities, set up the protective apparatus. Apparently the Thessians were holding off for the present.

“In a way,” said Morey seriously, “it was distinctly fortunate that we were attacked almost at once. Their instantaneous system of destruction would have worked for the one shot needed to send the Ancient Mariner to eternal blazes.” He laughed, but it was a slightly nervous laugh.

The terrestrial ship landed in a great grassy court, and out of respect for the parklike smoothness of the turf, Arcot left the ship on its power units, suspended a bit above the surface. Then he, Morey and the Talsonian left the ship. Zezdon Afthen was left

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