Scarcely had the command been uttered than the flight engineer was hauling upon the direction lever with main strength. At the same moment, Bloss discharged the upper ridge tubes so that the Typhoon became a veritable streak of fire as the ship dived end over end in this frantic lunge. Sirenlike, the screech of the machines rose to an earsplitting pitch. The Typhoon seemed to drop through space at a crazy speed, only to be yanked again and again in the midst of deafening explosions, first in this direction, then that.

Then above this din there came a steady, nerve-cutting rat-tat-tat, like the beating of drums. Captain Elber groaned. Both Bloss and Riggs threw all their strength and energy into the live stuff of the instruments before them.

But still the staccato roar of grinding meteor particles pummeled the sides of the squirming, dodging, fire-spewing cruiser. I sensed rather than saw the massive bulk of Quartermaster Mark as he lunged across the deck and grasped the huge levers with Flight Engineer Riggs. Our ears throbbed with fresh anguish now. The Typhoon became a screaming inferno, whirling madly, blindly, her discharges foaming from all sides as if she were some frenzied monster.