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Updated: June 19, 2025
The electricians had contrived a catchment pool and a wheel in the torrent close at hand for the little Mulhausen dynamo with its turbinal volute used by the telegraphists was quite adaptable to water driving, and on the sixth day in the evening the apparatus was in working order and the Prince was calling weakly, indeed, but calling to his air-fleet across the empty spaces of the world.
Every one.... But why?... I tell you our world's gone to pieces. There's no way out of it, no way back. Here we are! We're like mice caught in a house on fire, we're like cattle overtaken by a flood. Presently we shall be picked up, and back we shall go into the fighting. We shall kill and smash again perhaps. It's a Chino-Japanese air-fleet this time, and the odds are against us.
Then suddenly the German air-fleets sweep across the scene, and we are in the beginning of the end. This story has already told of the swift rush upon New York of the first German air-fleet and of the wild, inevitable orgy of inconclusive destruction that ensued. Behind it a second air-fleet was already swelling at its gasometers when England and France and Spain and Italy showed their hands.
Captain Bors went back to the palace. He was savagely pleased. He and the air-fleet men had done something. They'd had some satisfaction. They'd killed some Mekinese and ruined a plan to assassinate the Kandar fleet. But they'd only gotten an immediate satisfaction. Kandar was still to be conquered. Nothing important had changed. Bors made his way to the king's study. He entered.
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