"The broadcast, an official High Command communique, said in part: 'The Pacific is wholly in our hands. American naval bases throughout the ocean are useless, and the fleet where it still exists is isolated. In all cases our new weapon has succeeded. The Pacific states, with the islands, come within our natural sphere of influence. We advise them to submit peacefully.'"
Joan Daniels looked up at Fallon. At first there was only stunned pallor in her face. Then the color came, dark and slow.
"Submit peacefully!" she whispered. "So that's it. A cowardly, fiendish, utterly terrible perversion of warfare—something so horrible that it...."
"Yeah," said Fallon. "Save it."
He was leafing through the paper. There was a lot more—hurried opinions by experts, guesses, conjectures, and a few facts.
Fallon said flatly. "They seem to be telling the truth. Fragmentary radio messages have come in from the Pacific. Monsters attacked just as suddenly as they did here, and at about the same time. They simply clogged the guns, smothered the men, and wrecked ground equipment by sheer weight of numbers."
Joan shuddered. "You wouldn't think...."
"No," grunted Fallon. "You wouldn't." He flung the paper down. "Yah! Not an eyewitness account in the whole rag!"
Joan looked at him thoughtfully. She said, "Well...."
"They fired me once," he snarled. "Why should I crawl back?"