Suddenly the position of the Asiatic fleet seemed to change from south to a little west by south in a way that would have made a man of the twentieth century doubt the evidence of his senses. But these latter-day Americans knew well what was happening. It was merely a weird illusion—another creation of Thomas Whitley's master mind. Soon after he invented the gravitational screen, he had found that, under the influence of certain electromagnetic waves produced by a special generator, air could be made to refract light enormously. This discovery was of tremendous advantage in war. Both the Caucasians and the Mongolians used it to prevent each other from knowing the exact position of their forces. It practically eliminated battles at long range since, without knowing exactly where the enemy is, a gun crew cannot fire with any degree of accuracy. At a range of less than five miles the Whitley "mirafractor," as the device was called, was useless; and consequently within these limits the great contests were fought. At such close quarters the guns shooting projectiles filled with the new radioactive explosive, terrorium, could be used with dreadful effect.
The Last Stand
The Asiatic fleet was quite close now. In order to meet their onslaught the Americans had arranged their ships into three vast rings, one above the other.
Suddenly a light puff of smoke broke from the side of one of the Mongolian aircraft. For a fraction of a second a high, plaintive whine was heard above the roar of rocket-motors. Then, with a report that sounded like the crack of doom, the forward end of an American greyhound of the air was bent into a twisted mass of scrap. Upon the wreckage was spattered a greenish slimy fluid that gave off a gas which turned the shattered flesh of men black, the instant it touched them, and ate into bright metal like a powerful acid, covering it with half an inch of grayish compound.
The titanic struggle had begun—a thundering, hissing maelstrom of destruction. Again and again the Asiatics rushed upon their intended victims and, as often as they did so, they were beaten back by the revolving rings of American aircraft that poured broadside after broadside into their midst.
Losses to both contestants were awful, but among the invaders they were greatest. Time and again a monster dreadnaught gaudily painted with orange suns would crumple up under well-directed terrorium shells and take the ten-mile dive to earth, almost completely burying itself in the soft soil. Gradually, however, the Asiatics were getting the upper hand by force of numbers.
After night had fallen the scene of battle was brilliantly illuminated with searchlights and magnesium flares.
In the purple sky the stars glittered as calmly as ever. Though the fates of the human races of the world hung in the balance, nature's serenity was unruffled.
And now the slow retreat of the Americans toward Chicago had begun. Every mile of the way was contested with dogged courage. Time was what the United States needed, and the commander of the fleet meant to gain time if it were humanly possible. "Hang on, men—for God's sake—hang on!" were his constant orders, "If we can delay long enough, victory is ours!"