The rafts were heading slowly for the north tip of the in the other channel.
My birds were flying with tremendous speed. Occasionally I passed wounded birds, and wounded girl riders clinging desperately to them, trying to get back to Kalima.
I sailed over the island, toward Kalima, and then turned and passed inland above the road. Jim’s forces were drawn up in an arc, extending from the sea, back inland some half mile.
The heavy insulating shields were erected at intervals. The projectors were ready, and our wind projector was erected at the shore. It seemed a safe condition. Five miles or more of open country was between this line and Talon’s black beam. I could not see the beam from here.
But Talon’s yellow shore-barrage glowed clearly. Save for that radiance, the scene up there was now dark. A lull had come to the battle. The first engagement in which we had been so decisively worsted, was over. A momentary lull it was, while Talon seemed waiting to see what we would do next.
The scene was dark and silent. The night was darker now as well. Black clouds obscured the moon and all the stars to the north. And in the silence I heard a low muttering thunder.
I passed over our line, ordering Jim to remain inactive.
“Why?” he protested. “Don’t I get in this at all, Len?”
But I kept him there. It was no time for us to plunge recklessly at Talon. He had surprised our first attack and worsted us in the conflict. I was not willing to try that again.
Flying low, I headed over the rolling hills for Talon’s present land base. I put on my helmet, drew up the insulating shields that lined the sides of the platform. At my wrist the pulse-motor was throbbing.