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Peer harbor in Miquelon it was and afterwards he was lost on the Heptagon and of course, never being released from the oath, I can't tell. Well, there was the rum, the whiskey, the brandy, and the sherry and on top o' that went one can of canned pine-apple canned pine is better than the pine-apple right out of its jacket. Why? Well, that's part of the secret.
But as the Vorkulian phalanx approached now shooting forward and upward with maximum acceleration, screaming bolts of energy flaming out for miles behind each heptagon as the full power of its generators was unleashed it was made clear that the homeland of the hexans was far from unprotected.
"We couldn't begin to handle that structure anywhere near Jupiter in fact, we wouldn't want to get very close ourselves, with passengers aboard." Such was the power of the Vorkulian vessels that in less than twenty hours another heptagon slowed to a halt beside the Sirius and two of its crew were wafted aboard.
Time after time, as rapidly as he could sight his beam and operate his switches, Brandon drove his needle of annihilation through the fortress, destroying the secondary controls. Then, the walls unresisting, he cut in the vastly larger, but infinitely less powerful, I-P ray, and with it systematically riddled the immense heptagon.
Brandon yelled, but the suggestion was entirely superfluous. Even before the wall-screen had died, Westfall's beam was trying to get through it, and when the visiray revealed the interior of the heptagon, the quiet and methodical physicist was shaken from his habitual calm. "Why, they aren't the winged monsters at all they're hexans!" he exclaimed. "Sure they are."
"They're trying to save all the power they can think I'll make them spend some more," Brandon remarked, and directed against the heptagon a heavy destructive beam. "We don't want them to get back to Jupiter until after we've boarded them and found out everything we want to know. Come here, Quince what do you make of this?"
A whistling, shrieking ululation rent the air and the officer's coils tightened as he reared a few feet of his length upright, shooting out half a dozen tentacular arms to various switches and controls upon his board, while throughout the great heptagon, hundreds of other Vorkuls sprang to attention at their assigned posts of duty.
In another there is a square, together with five rectangles in which the length is always equal to the side of the square while the breadth gradually decreases. In another drawer there are six regular polygons containing from five to ten sides, i.e., the pentagon, hexagon, heptagon, octagon, nonagon, and decagon.
There he and his fellows labored day after day learning every secret of every item of armament and equipment aboard the heptagon. "Did you finish up today, Norm?" asked Stevens one evening. "Kromodeor's coming to life fast. He's able to wiggle around a little now, and is insisting that we take off the one chain we keep on him and let him use a plate, to call his people." "All washed up.
Maybe it's a purely mechanical affair that they use for observing. Anyway, old sons, I don't like the looks of things at all. Quince, you're the brains of this outfit shift the massive old intellect into high and tell us what to do." Westfall, staring into the eyepiece of the filar micrometer, finished measuring the apparent size of the heptagon before he turned toward Stevens and Brandon.
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