"It might be well to stop," Dr. Seaward put in. "They may want to look us over and nothing more. Unless we arouse suspicion by resisting now."
"And they might steal the ship under our noses, too," protested Arundell.
Broster shook his head. "There cannot be a question of letting unknown intelligences enter this craft or hold it. We can't afford to take chances, even if the notion that other world dwellers are necessarily enemies is silly. We've got to assume that everything we see is dangerous until proven harmless or friendly. Those are our first orders: do not surrender the ship."
"Then we run for it?" asked Seaward.
"We do. Our offensive weapons may be better than theirs but it's another chance we're not taking. The very fact that we're outnumbered makes retreat the order of the day."
"Look there!" exclaimed Arundell. "They're beaming past us!"
One of the strange oval, multi-ported, oddly-ornamented, crimson craft had just shot a red beam alongside of the Astralite. Not touching it, but passing by, as if to show that, whenever they cared, this fleet could annihilate the intruder. Then, all the other ships surrounding them began to flash beams. Crossing and criss-crossing all about them save in front.
"Look," exclaimed Kendall. "You can see those beams as if they were in air."
"Marvellous and impossible," groaned Seaward. "We've run into a swarm of impossibilities today. Some philosopher once remarked that in eternity everything was possible—in fact, everything that could possibly happen has happened. It looks as if we're running into bits of that now. I should have taken my daughter's advice and let a younger man come this trip."
"It may be impossible, but it's so," broke in Broster. "And deadly. We're getting out of here fast."