By actual count he found there were five of them, alert, weaving, posturing as though to sense new victims. Oddly enough the light brought no response from them, even when flashed directly upon their dingy white bodies.
Suddenly the electro-gun seemed to burn in Kort's hand. He lifted away a section of the catwalk grid to fire through the opening thus left. Bullets howled, ricocheting from deck plates and bulkheads below. Occasionally one of the creatures seemed to flicker before a shot.
When the gun was empty Kort got to his feet. His fire had been without effect. He felt a sick sense of futility as he climbed back to the wheelhouse, where Hodge soberly listened to the tale of death he had to tell.
"We've got to get them, son," said the first mate grimly. "It's them or us. Look aport."
The sky was aflame over the horizon. Twisted ribbons of light swirled between sea and heavens, shot through now and again with flashes of crimson. Across the waters came, faintly, the rumble of thunder.
"Kilwanni!" grunted Hodge. "From the looks of that borealis, it's headed this way. If we lie here much longer we'll be blown out of the water."
"With the anti-grids?" Kort protested.
"Without them," Hodge answered dryly. "What're you going to use for juice? The lightning generators have almost stopped, and you can't turn the anti-grid generators on flat boilers, nor use battery juice either."
He jerked his head significantly at the wheelhouse lamps, hardly more than aglow.
"Looks like we have to lick the things or else! No good wasting more bullets, either. The things dodge 'em. See how they flicker when you put a bullet close? No wonder D'loo calls them the ghost snakes."