THE MAGIC LABYRINTH

Four rockets sprang from the Rex. An explosion a

The Gascon, firing rockets at the enemy launch, swung about it. Little spurts of flame showed that their machine guns were operating. The other enemy launch continued doggedly toward the Bills, shedding warheads and bullets alike. The distance between the two larger vessels, as estimated by the eye, was five hundred feet. Neither was loosing its rockets. Evidently they were waiting until they got within close range.

The Gascon was circling behind the enemy now. Plunkett's voice came. "I'm going to ram."

"Don't be a fool!" Sam shouted, in his fear bypassing Byron, who should have relayed the message.

"Is that an order, sir?" Plunkett said calmly. "The crew has left—at my orders, sir. I think that I can wreck the enemy's propellers."

"This is the captain!" Sam said. "I order you not to do that! I don't want you to kill yourself!"

There was no answer. The smaller of the two white objects crept upon the stern of the bigger. At least, it seemed to be moving slowly. Actually it was overtaking the slower craft at about fifteen miles an hour. Not much speed, but the weight of the heavy armor-plated boat gave it a fearful amount of energy.

"Gascon and enemy launch closed, sir," the lookout said.

"I can see that, hear it, too," Sam said, looking through his night glasses.

All motion of the Gascon had stopped completely except for its drift with the current. The other launch was slowing down. Now it had stopped.

"By Jesus!" Sam said. "He did it! Poor bastard!"

"Maybe he ain't hurt," Joe said. "He voud've been thtrapped in."

The Post No Bills was closing in. It came within perhaps a hundred feet of its target. Then it swung sharply away. Several seconds later, the enemy boat rose in water and flames and came down in pieces.

"He torpedoed it!" Sam yelled with exultation. "Good old Anderson! He torpedoed it!"

Byron said coolly, "Good show, that."

"NFH! Anderson! What are my orders?"

"Find out if Plunkett's all right," Sam said. "And if the Gascon is still serviceable. And pick up the men who jumped."

"Sir, the Rex is an estimated fifty-two hundred feet away," the lookout said.

"Okay, Admiral," Sam said to Byron. "You take over the ca

Byron said, "Yes, sir," and he turned to the intercom. Sam heard him giving orders to the fore port-ca

Byron, standing by the intercom, was repeating the range as the gu

"Forty-nine hundred. Forty-seven hundred. Forty-five hundred."

"That's going to be a hell of a shock to John," Sam said to Joe Miller. "He doesn't know we have ca

"Fire!"

Sam counted the seconds. Then he swore. The first shell had missed.

The second struck, apparently just by the waterline near the fore. But the Rex continued steadily toward its enemy.

"Bring her around so we can give them a broadside from the port," he told Detweiller.

Both ca

"Enemy within twenty-six hundred feet," the gu

"Are the big birds ready?" Sam said to Byron.

"Yes, sir, all."

"Tell the officers to fire as soon as the Rex does."

Byron relayed the order. He had no sooner quit speaking than Sam saw a multitude of flames on the Rex. The coveys met about 450 feet away, headlong in the air. The explosions deafened Sam.

Joe Miller said, "Chehuth Chritht!"

Suddenly, shells struck the Rex. The starboard wheelhousing went up in flames, and smoke covered the pilothouse. Immediately following, gouts of flame arose along the starboard side. The shell had touched off a rocket battery, and the detonation of that had set off others in a series.

"Hot damn!" Sam said.

The smoke around the pilothouse cleared, though not so swiftly. The wind had died down, and the Rex had lost considerable speed.

"It's turning its port side to us!" Sam said.

Another flight of missiles arose, this time from the opposite side. Again, the Not For Hire's countermissiles struck, and the result was a blast in midair that shook the boat. But no damage was done.

By then Sam could see that the Rex was in serious trouble. Its decks on the starboard were blazing here and there, and it was turning away from them.

For a moment he thought that the Rex was fleeing. But no. It continued to turn. It was describing a small circle.

"The starboard wheel is malfunctioning or destroyed," he said, "They can't maneuver."

That knowledge relaxed him somewhat. Now all he had to do was to get out of effective rocket range and blast the Rex out of the water with his 88-millimeter and compressed-air ca

He gave the orders to do so. Detweiller turned the boat to put the necessary distance between it and its victim.

"Well, we didn't do so badly," he said exultingly to Byron.

"Not so far, sir."

"It's practically over! Don't you ever give way to human emotion, man?"

"Not on duty," Byron said.

Joe Miller said, again, "Chehuth Chritht!"

"What's the matter?" Sam said, grabbing Joe's enormous arm.

The titanthrop, his eyes goggling, strangling noises coming from his open mouth, pointed up and out to the stern. Sam stepped in front of him to look, but he did not get there.

The explosion tore the bulletproof glass out of the frame of the rear window in a solid piece and slammed it against him.

34

THE MOUSE HAD SPRUNG THE TRAP ON THE CAT.

While the Not For Hire was still two days' journey away, the crew of the Rex had removed from storage the envelope of a small airship made from the intestinal linings of dragonfish over two years ago. The hydrogen-generating equipment was set up on shore, and the envelope was inflated within the bamboo and pine hangar built two weeks ago.

The Azazel, as John had christened it, was a semirigid airship. The envelope depended upon the pressure of gas to fill it out, but a metal keel was attached to it. The control cabin and the two motor gondolas, salvaged from the wreck of Pode-brad's blimp, were fitted to the keel. The electrical and mechanical co

The bombardier and the pilot got aboard the airship and took it up for a two-hour shakedown cruise. Everything worked well. And when the Rex left to do battle with the Not For Hire, the dirigible lifted to the desired height and began circling. Not until it became dark would it go through the high part of the strait.

As the Rex circled, imitating a crippled duck, the blimp was down-River behind the enemy vessel. It had come over the strait and then had turned right, cruising alongside, but not too near to, the mountains. Its black color would keep it from being visually observed by the enemy. There was a chance that the enemy radar would detect it. It was John's hope that it would be centered on the Rex. Clemens would think that the Rex had no more aircraft, so why make a radar sweep at a high altitude?

When the radar of the Not For Hire was destroyed, John was jubilant. Though his boat and crew had suffered terrible punishment, he danced with joy. Now the Azazel could creep up on the enemy, avoiding all but visual observation. And in this pale light, with the enemy's eyes only for the Rex, the airship had a good chance to get within striking distance.