<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></SPAN>CHAPTER VI<br/> An Unequal Duel</h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">But</span> to return to my narrative,
and my <i>swooper</i>, from
which I was gazing at the interior
of the Han ship.</p>
<p>This ship was not unlike the
great dirigibles of the Twentieth
Century in shape, except that it
had no suspended control car nor
gondolas, no propellers, and no
rudders, aside from a permanently
fixed double-fishtail stabilizer
at the rear, and a number of
"keels" so arranged as to make
the most of the repeller ray airlift
columns.</p>
<p>Its width was probably twice
as great as its depth, and its
length about twice its width.
That is to say, it was about 100
feet from the main keel to the
top-deck at their maximum distance
from each other, about 200
feet wide amidship, and between
400 and 500 feet long. It had in
addition to the top-deck, three
interior decks. In its general
curvature the ship was a compromise
between a true streamline
design and a flattened cylinder.</p>
<p>For a distance of probably 75
to 100 feet back of the nose
there were no decks except that
formed by the bottom of the
hull. But from this point back
the decks ran to within a few
feet of the stern.</p>
<p>At various spots on the hull
curvature in this great "hollow
nose" were platforms from which
the crews of the <i>dis</i> ray generators
and the <i>electronoscope</i> and
<i>electronophone</i> devices manipulated
their apparatus.</p>
<p>Into this space from the forward
end of the center deck,
projected the control room. The
walls, ceiling and floor of this
compartment were simply the
surfaces of <i>viewplates</i>. There
were no windows or other openings.</p>
<p>The operation officers within
the control room, so far as their
vision was concerned, might
have imagined themselves suspended
in space, except for the
transmitters, levers and other
signalling devices around them.</p>
<p>Five officers, I understand, had
their posts in the control room;
the captain, and the chiefs of
<i>scopes</i>, <i>phones</i>, <i>dis rays</i> and <i>navigation</i>.
Each of these was in
continuous interphone communication
with his subordinates in
other posts throughout the ship.
Each <i>viewplate</i> had its phone
connecting with its "<i>eye machines</i>"
on the hull, the crews of
which would switch from telescopic
to normal view at command.</p>
<p>There were, of course, many
other <i>viewplates</i> at executive
posts throughout the ship.</p>
<hr />
<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> Hans followed a peculiar
system in the command of
their ships. Each ship had a double
complement of officers. Active
Officers and Base Officers.
The former were in actual, active
charge of the ship and its apparatus.
The latter remained at the
ship base, at desks equipped with
<i>viewplates</i> and phones, in constant
communication with their
"correspondents," on the ship.
They acted continuously as consultants,
observers, recorders
and advisors during the flight
or action. Although not primarily
accountable for the operation of
the ship, they were senior to, and
in a sense responsible for the
training and efficiency of the
Active Officers.</p>
<p>The <i>ionomagnetic coils</i>, which
served as the casings, "plates"
and insulators of the gigantic
condensers, were all located
amidship on a center line, reaching
clear through from the top
to the bottom of the hull, and
reaching from the forward to
the rear rep-ray generators; that
is, from points about 110 feet
from bow and stern. The crew's
quarters were arranged on both
sides of the coils. To the outside
of these, where the several decks
touched the hull, were located
the various pieces of <i>phone</i>,
<i>scope</i> and <i>dis ray</i> apparatus.</p>
<p>The ship into which I was gazing
with my <i>ultroscope</i> (at a
telescopic and penetrative setting),
carried a crew of perhaps
150 men all told. And except for
the strained looks on their evil
yellow faces I might have been
tempted to believe I was looking
on some Twenty-fifth Century
pleasure excursion, for there was
no running around nor appearance
of activity.</p>
<p>The Hans loved their ease, and
despite the fact that this was a
war ship, every machine and apparatus
in it was equipped with
a complement of seats and specially
designed couches, in which
officers and men reclined as they
gazed at their viewplates, and
manipulated the little sets of
controls placed convenient to
their hands.</p>
<hr />
<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> picture was a comic one
to me, and I laughed, wondering
how such soft creatures had
held the sturdy and virile American
race in complete subjection
for centuries. But my laugh died
as my mind grasped at the obvious
explanation. These Hans
were only soft physically. Mentally
they were hard, efficient,
ruthless, and conscienceless.</p>
<p>Impulsively I nosed my <i>swooper</i>
down toward the ship and
shot toward it at full rocket
power. I had acted so swiftly
that I had covered nearly half
the distance toward the ship before
my mind slowly drifted out
of the daze of my emotion. This
proved my undoing. Their scopeman
saw me too quickly, for in
heading directly at them I became
easily visible, appearing as
a steady, expanding point. Looking
through their hull, I saw the
crew of a <i>dis</i> ray generator come
suddenly to attention. A second
later their beam engulfed me.</p>
<p>For an instant my heart stood
still. But the inertron shell of
my swooper was impervious to
the disintegrator ray. I was out
of luck, however, so far as my
control over my tiny ship was
concerned. I had been hurtling
in a direct line toward the ship
when the beam found me. Now,
when I tried to swerve out of
the beam, the swooper responded
but sluggishly to the shift I
made in the rocket angle. I was,
of course, traveling straight
down a beam of vacuum. As my
craft slowly nosed to the edge of
the beam, the air rushing into
this vacuum from all sides threw
it back in again.</p>
<p>Had I shot my ship across one
of these beams at right angles,
my momentum would have carried
me through with no difficulty.
But I had no momentum
now except in the line of the
beam, and this being a vacuum
now, my momentum, under full
rocket power, was vastly increased.
This realization gave me
a second and more acute thrill.
Would I be able to check my little
craft in time, or would I, helpless
as a bullet itself, crash
through the shell of the Han
ship to my own destruction?</p>
<p>I shut off my rocketmotor, but
noticed no practical diminution
of speed.</p>
<hr />
<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It</span> was the fear of the Hans
themselves that saved me.
Through my ultroscope I saw
sudden alarm on their faces, hesitation,
a frantic officer in the
control room jabbering into his
phone. Then shakily the crew
flipped their beam off to the side.
The jar on my craft was terrific.
Its nose caught the rushing tumble
of air first, of course, and my
tail sailing in a vacuum, swung
around with a sickening wrench.
My swooper might as well have
been a barrel in the tumult of
waters at the foot of Niagara.
What was worse, the Hans kept
me in that condition. Three of
their beams were now playing in
my direction, but not directly on
me except for split seconds.
Their technique was to play their
beams around me more than on
me, jerking them this way and
that, so as to form vacuum pockets
into which the air slapped
and roared as the beams shifted,
tossing me around like a chip.</p>
<p>Desperately I tried to bring
my craft under control, to point
its nose toward the Han ship
and discharge an explosive rocket.
Bitterly I cursed my self-confidence,
and my impulsive action.
An experienced pilot of the
present age would have known
better than to be caught shooting
straight down a <i>dis</i> ray
beam. He would have kept his
ship shooting constantly at some
angle to it, so that his momentum
would carry him across it if
he hit it. Too late I realized that
there was more to the business
of air fighting, than instinctive
skill in guiding a swooper.</p>
<p>At last, when for a fraction of
a second my nose pointed toward
the Hans, I pressed the button of
my rocket gun. I registered a hit,
but not an accurate one. My projectile
grazed an upper section
of the ship's hull. At that it did
terrific damage. The explosion
battered in a section about fifty
feet in diameter, partially destroying
the top deck.</p>
<p>At the same instant I had shot
my rocket, I had, in a desperate
attempt to escape that turmoil
of tumbling air, released a catch
and dropped all that it was possible
to drop of my ultron ballast.
My swooper shot upward,
like a bubble streaking for the
surface of water.</p>
<p>I was free of the trap in which
I had been caught, but unable
to take advantage of the confusion
which reigned on the Han
ship.</p>
<p>I was as helpless to maneuver
my ship now, in its up-rush, as
when I had been tumbling in the
air pockets. Moreover I was badly
battered from plunging
around in my shell like a pellet
in a box, and partially unconscious.</p>
<p>I was miles in the air when I
recovered myself. The swooper
was steady enough now, but still
rising, my instruments told me,
and traveling in a general westward
direction at full speed. Far
below me was a sea of clouds,
stretching from horizon to horizon,
and through occasional
breaks in its surface I could see
still other seas of clouds at lower
levels.</p>
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