“Hold a battleplane where we can gain access to it, so that the rods can be recharged from its supply.”
“Not practicable,” said Jones.
“If each man has three Ray rods, he can kill three of Sanson’s men.”
“But unless you take the fortress the Ray artillery can make a desert of London.”
“What would you do, then?” asked the committee leader.
“Cut the solar supply cables.”
“Twelve feet underground, in steel and concrete?”
“No. At the heart of the world’s power system,” said the airscout. “In the Vosges. It is not impossible. The Ray artillery there is not carefully guarded; the early nights are dark. Make Sanson’s Ray guns useless at a stroke, and then storm the fortress in the old way, man against man.”
I saw the face of the black-bearded leader redden with blood. “Yes!” he cried, “that is the way.”
“And then we shall have two names again and life will be free,” said Bishop Alfred, musing. “Two names, as our fathers had.”