Firebird saw her mistake. Both of them twisted at the dual controls to swing the Corsair away from that cone of destruction into which it was plunging.
It was too late. They swept across the stern of the Black Warrior which was blasting with all it had. The Corsair's screen lit momentarily. Then the dissipators exploded in a crushing blast in the depths of the ship.
The interior of the control room came alive with flame. Firebird flung her hands before her face and her silver helmet was encased in a halo of fire.
What protected him, Nathan never knew, but he seemed to be just outside the sphere of burning destruction that burst through the walls of the control room in a hundred million pin pricks of flame. For an eternity he seemed frozen there watching the flame creeping over the slim form of Firebird—watching it burn and smother her.
Automatic cells closed the innumerable pin pricks made in the hull by the entering ions of fire. The control panel was blackened and burned. Then the flame-points faded out.
His hypnosis induced by the flame could not have lasted more than a fraction of a second, Nathan knew. But when he leaped out of the chair towards Firebird, he shuddered.
The bronze and pink of her flesh was burned to blackness.
It was impossible, he told himself numbly. This couldn't be the end of the storied Firebird. But it was. That charred corpse could never hold life again.
A poignant pain of sorrow filled him as he looked upon the figure and remembered the beauty of Firebird. He felt lost, and all the supreme purpose in their flight to Mars had ceased.