CHAPTER IIDeath from the Sky
THEY felt nothing. They waited for the ports to break through and all the interior of the ship to fill with the incandescence that would snuff out life before they had time to know death as it took them.
But nothing happened—nothing. The incandescence died away. They felt all the sensations of free fall—absolute weightlessness, unreasonable giddiness, the inherited panic which has come down to men from the ancestors of the Lost Race itself.
But the vanishing of the incandescence hinted that their fall was being checked—which was impossible. Nothing external could have slowed the fall of the yacht without shattering its hull and crushing the life out of its occupants.
Outside, air screamed past the wrecked Marintha. From the thinnest of whistlings at the upp
