"Sun-power," Borden said grimly, after a moment. "That figures out just about right. Not more than a kilowatt to the square yard, but eighteen thousand square miles has plenty of square yards! We've been on the receiving end of a sun-mirror heat-ray, and if it had been accurately figured we'd have fried." Then he said, "But a sun-mirror doesn't work at night!"
He punched keys again. Presently he looked at his wrist-chronometer. He waited.
"We're falling!" Sattell cried shrilly. "Do something!"
"Forty seconds more," said Borden. "I'm gambling your life, Sattell, but I'm gambling Ellen's and mine too, not to mention Jerry's. Calm down."
His eyes turned to the meter that showed the feed-back-field drain. It was drawing precisely the amount of power needed to cancel out the sunlight falling on it, as well as the starlight, and the light reflected from the day side of the world below them. That drain was less than it had been. They were crossing the planet's terminator—the line dividing the light side from the dark side—as they plunged toward the sandy deserts.
The drain dropped abruptly. They had moved into the planet's shadow. Into night.
Instantly, Borden flicked off the feed-back field. His eyes darted to the nearest object radar dial. They were still sixty miles high, but falling at a tremendous speed. Borden's hands moved quickly over the controls. Lift. Full atmosphere drive on a new course.
"We won't crash," he said evenly, "unless we're shot at with something that works in the dark. But that sun-mirror business is odd. There's only a certain size of sun-mirror that's economical. When they get too big there are better weapons for the money. That one was big! So maybe it's the best weapon this planet has. In which case we'll be nearest safety at one of the ice-caps. Sun-mirrors will be handicapped in polar regions!"
"They—tried to kill us!" Sattell panted suddenly. "They don't like strangers! They fired on us without warning! We can't land on this planet! We've got to go on!"