Leader Kingston smiled grimly at Maddox and shoved the button home. "That'll fix 'em!" he said savagely.
On Earth Two the pillar of fire flickered a measurable bit—and the downtown district of New York City vomited flame in a thunderous roar. To the stratosphere billowed the ice cap, followed instantly by an up-reaching column of incandescent gas.
Into the vitals of the rock the gnawing atomic flame went and perceptibly—perceptibly to some all-powerful deity that could withstand a holocaust which put the sun to shame—the crater expanded as the substance of Earth Two fed the atomic flame.
Kingston set the steering control once more and shoved the button. The Mall between the Washington Monument and the Capitol erupted in another atomic cancer to feed on Earth Two. The buildings that lined the Mall were blasted to bits—the National Archives, the Smithsonian Institution, all of them gone in one mighty blast.
Then, as the fury of blast subsided, the pillar of fire undulated to the sky. It fed, then, on the inert substance of a dead city for, as in Manhattan, no man remained alive to see.
With cruel disregard for humanity, Leader Kingston set the dials once more and the acres of land enclosed by Chicago's Loop roared skyward. The edges of the crater rimmed Lake Michigan and the waters of the lake began to pour toward the breach. They did not reach the ravening crater for they turned into steam long before they could fall across the lip of the crater.
From Lake Bluff to Gary the lake-front was a scene of molten death.
"That's but the beginning," said Kingston. "Four will become eight and eight will become sixteen. It will not be long before they are reaching one another."
"You'll have a lot of the space-resonant crystals to pass along to Earth One, though," said Maddox.