Turber had carried our tower Space. San was gone with the tower—with orders from Lea to swing slowly past at intervals. The Turberites, finding the tower was gone, left a guard there and swept on—fighting our troops northward. The Hoboken power-house still was surrounded, but holding out. The attack there seemed momentarily to have slackened as Turber concentrated on his northern drive.
There was still no fighting on the roof. Our lines had withdrawn northward as the Turber mobs swept north through the city. Most of this roof area seemed deserted. We could make out occasionally the dark forms of the Turberites patrolling this captured area. We crossed over the Turber wall. The roof from this height was very little different of aspect.
Our projector had not yet flashed. All our lights were carefully hooded. But we thought that by now some Turber ship would have come up to assail us. There had been occasional Turber patrol ships here all day, but none were here now.
I thought that the harbor with its lacework of causeways and islands must be beneath this area of the roof. It was difficult for me to estimate. Far off, ahead to the right where the roof ended beyond Staten Island, I could see the banks of lights that marked the great Turber wall inclosing this end of his rural territory. There was no ship in sight.
I murmured: "When do we turn it on, Alan?"
"Soon. When we get near where Turber houses the aero."
"Yes, but where is that? I don't know where we are."
We had no idea where the aero was either; but our orders were to attack its usual housing place.
The pilot heard me. He said: "Approximately approaching Staten. We have little information of the Turber city. But his aero is kept some two or three miles farther ahead."
Our beam had an effective range of about fifteen hundred feet. From this present altitude we would have to direct it almost vertically downward.