The air fleet went on over the waving tree-fern jungle in an unvarying monotony of bitterness. Presently Tommy wearily explained his design to the bearded Councilor who, with the quick comprehension of mechanical design apparently instinctive in these folk, grasped it immediately. He selected three of the six-man crew and passed Tommy’s drawings to them. While the jungle flowed beneath the fleet they studied the sketches, made other drawings, and showed them eagerly to Tommy. When the fleet soared down to the scattered landing stages, not only was the design understood but apparently plans for production had been made. It did not take the men of the Golden City long to respond.
Tommy flung himself savagely into the work he had taken upon himself. It did not occur to him to ask for authority. He knew what had to be done and he set to work to do it, commanding men and materials as if there could be no question of disobedience. As a matter of fact, he yielded impatiently to an order of the Council that he should present himself in the Council hall, and, since no questions were asked him, continued his organizing in the very presence of the Council, sending for information and giving orders in a low tone while the Council deliberated. A vote was taken by the voting machine. At its end, he was solemnly informed that, though not a native of Yugna, he was entrusted with the command of the defense forces of the city. His skill in arms—as evidenced by his defeat of the fleet of Rahn—and his ability in command—when he met the gas-mask defense of Rahn with a threat of starvation—moved the Council to that action. He accepted the command almost abstractedly, and hurried away to pick gun emplacements.
Within four hours after the return of the fleet, the first steam gun was ready for trial. Smithers appeared, sweat-streaked and vastly calm, to announce that others could be turned out in quantity.
“These guys have got the stuff,” he said steadily. “Instead o’ castin’ their stuff, they shoot it on a core in a melted spray. They ain’t got steel, an’ copper’s scarce, but they got some alloys that are good an’ tough. One’s part tungsten or I’m crazy.”
Tommy nodded.
“Turn out all the guns you can,” he said. “I look for fighting.”
“Yeah,” said Smithers. “Miss Evelyn’s still all right?”
“Up to three hours ago,” said Tommy grimly. “Every three hours one of our ships lands in Rahn and reports. We give the Rahnians their stuff at our own city gates. I’ve warned Jacaro that we’ve mounted thermit-throwers on our food stores. If he manages to gas us by surprise, nevertheless our foodstuffs can’t be captured. They’ve got to turn over Evelyn and cart off their food before they dare to fight, else they’ll starve.”
“But—uh—there’re other cities they could stick up, ain’t there?”