Our spies had informed us that of recent weeks there had arisen aboutthe City of Ice a huge wall behind which Tarrano would make his stand.It was our plan to approach within range of this and establish our powerplant as a base from which to direct our offensive. The trip from theGreat City was not long. After a few helans our girls ceased flyingindividually and boarded their appointed vehicles.
In a long single line, armament platforms, the towers, our instrumentroom, with the power plant bringing up the rear, we sailed forward.There were in our instrument vehicle, Maida, Georg, Elza and myself, thevehicle manned by two pilots and two mechanicians--a _slaan_, a Marsman, and two Earth men. We were in constant communication withGeno-Rhaalton. And though he enjoined upon us all the necessity forsleeping or resting during the trip, himself sat alert at his desk,unrelaxing. The little mirror on our table showed him sitting there,watching every move we made.
We laid down to rest, but sleep was impossible. Through the panelledtransparent floor, I watched the country changing as we advanced;vegetation dwindling; the soil changing to rocky barrenness at theborder of the Cold Country. And then the snow-plains, the mute frozenrivers of ice, the mountains.
In the twilight of the Cold Country autumn, we sailed up to themountains and approached to the City of Ice. Alert, all of us now, as atan altitude of a few thousand feet we circled about, marking time untilthe power plant had selected its base and landed to make ready for thebattle.
Throughout the trip we had expected--had anticipated the possibility--ofa surprise attack by Tarrano; an ambush in the open air, perhapsby some means strange to us. But the vision magnifiers, themicrophones--encompassing every known range of sight and sound--showedus nothing. Especially at the mountains we had thought to meetopposition. But at first none came. It seemed somehow ominous, this lackof action from Tarrano; and when the leader of our line--a towervehicle--rose sharply to scale the jagged peaks of the Divide, the flareof a hostile electronic bomb rising came almost as a relief. From theinstrument room--forewarned an instant by the hiss of our microphones--Isaw the bomb start upward. Slowly as a rocket it mounted--a blurred ballof glowing violet light, quite plain in the dim twilight. I knew thatthe tower platform at which it was directed would have time to throw outits insulation; I knew that the insulation would doubtless beeffective--yet my heart leaped nevertheless. At my hand was a projector;but in those few seconds the tower just in advance of us in the line wasquicker. Its ray darted at the violet ball; the soundless explosionthrew a wave of sparks about the menaced tower, like a puff--a prickedbubble of soap-film--the violet ball was dissipated. But I saw themenaced tower rock a trifle from the shock.
Geno-Rhaalton's face in the mirror beside me was very solemn. I heardhim murmuring something to the other towers, saw their light flashdownward, searching the mountain defiles. And as I watched that littleimage of Rhaalton, I chanced to notice a mirror on Rhaalton's desk.Rhaalton himself was looking at it--a mirror which had been dark, butwhich now flashed on. An outlaw circuit! The mirror imaged the face ofTarrano. Tarrano grinning ironically!