"The battle's going inside the nebula!" yelled Jhul Din, over the thunderous roar of flame about us.
"Hold our ship with the rest!" I shouted thickly back to him. "It's going to be fought to the end this time."
Now all about us was a single titanic ocean of glowing gas, as our thousands of struggling ships reeled into the great nebula's raging fires. Through those fires we could make out dimly the shapes of the ships about us, whirling and battling on still in that hell of flame, the heat-resistant hulls of them all enabling them to withstand the comparatively low temperature of the nebula's sea of flame. On and on, striking, whirling, grappling, we raged, force-shafts and death-beams and crimson rays stabbing through the glowing gases that flooded between us, carrying death and destruction still from ship to struggling ship. For still ships were flaring crimson and vanishing, were staggering aimlessly away as the pale beams swept them, or were crumpling and collapsing as our force-shafts struck them, all life inside them annihilated as they collapsed by the inrushing sea of flame, now.
Our titanic battle had reached its height, its climax, I knew, and with the fierce, desperate fury born of that realization, our ships were leaping upon the serpent-craft. It was a battle out of nightmare, that awful struggle, a battle of the thousands of ships of three great universes that grappled with each other to the death there in that hell of thundering flame. Gaseous Andromedans in their long, flat ships, writhing serpent-creatures with their oval craft, strange, dissimilar shapes from the races of all the galaxy's suns in their great, cigar-like hulls-all swayed and smote and stabbed there together in that stupendous struggle, pale beam and red ray and unseen shaft of force whirling this way and that through the seas of raging fire through which we reeled. On and on we whirled, all thought of everything but the enemy ships before us gone as each of the thousands of ships struck out with all its powers for its races, its universe.
Swiftly now, rocking and grappling there in the nebula's glowing ocean, with flame above and below and on each side and all about us, ships around us were vanishing, crashing into each other blindly amid the roaring fires, taking deadly toll of each other with their mighty weapons. But ever more swiftly, assailed on all sides by our terrific attack, the serpent-ships were decreasing in number, and though our own craft whirled to death about us also I saw that rapidly the serpent-ships were being annihilated in scores and hundreds as with the fury of utter reckless single-mindedness we leapt upon them. Thousands by thousands their ships were vanishing, and though hardly a score of thousands of ships remained now of our two mighty fleets the serpent-ships had been reduced to a fourth of that number by our terrible attack.
Still upon them we sprang, there in the nebula's fires, our force-shafts and red rays whirling ceaselessly through the thundering flames about us toward them, though sullenly still their beams sprang to meet us. Through that inferno of flame, between and through the whirling ships about us, our own craft leapt, its cylinders still stabbing forth crumpling death to the oval ships about us, and then suddenly, in answer to some signal flashed among them, all those oval craft, those serpent-ships, had driven swiftly upward from the mighty battle, into the roaring fires above us. In those fires, while we too drove up through the flaming ocean in pursuit of them, they gathered for an instant, massing together, and then were flashing away, through the nebula's flaming sea and out of it into open space once more, flashing together back toward the galaxy's edge.
"The Cancer cluster," Jhul Din was screaming, now. "They're in flight-they're heading back toward the cluster."
But already I had pressed swiftly on the keys before me, and about us our ships were massing again, the galaxy-ships with us now; and then close-massed together we were racing outward, too, out of the mighty sea of flame about us, bursting out of the titanic nebula into the open spaces of the galaxy once more, its thronging suns all about us. Through those suns, back toward the galaxy's edge in swift flight, the five thousand remaining serpent-ships were flashing, the only surviving remnant of their vast fleet, that our two armadas had conquered and all but destroyed. Back toward the Cancer cluster they were fleeing, upon whose thronging worlds all the hordes of the serpent-races were massed, and within which those hordes, we knew, would be laboring still to complete the great cone that now we could destroy. So on after them our own fleet leapt, a score of thousands of mighty ships in close formation thundering after our flying enemy.
Past mighty, flaming suns we were racing, in pursuit, past slow-turning great worlds that moved about those suns and that we raced between and past, through the galaxy's giant stars toward its edge, toward the Cancer cluster. On-on-after the fleeing serpent-craft we raced, until far before us through the crowding suns there came into view the great cluster toward which they were heading, a gigantic, globular swarm of suns there at the galaxy's edge. The serpent-ships had reached it, now, were dropping swiftly down toward it, and as we too flashed above it we dropped after them in hot pursuit. Down-down-the great ball of flaming suns was growing swiftly in size as we neared it, the countless thronging worlds between those suns, packed now with the serpent-races, visible beneath-down-down-and then suddenly, in obedience to some unseen order, the serpent-ships fleeing downward beneath us had halted, had turned, and then were driving straight back up toward us.
So utterly unlocked for was that swift, fierce attack that before we could swerve aside our downward-rushing thousands of craft had crashed straight into the uprushing serpent-ships. Then the moment after that wild shock in which hundreds, thousands of ships had smashed head-on together, there was battle again there above that mighty ball of suns, with the giant splendor of our galaxy to one side and the infinite vault of outer space to the other, a battle such as in sheer, concentrated intensity none of us had ever yet experienced. Like senseless mechanisms, with the mad energy of despair, the serpent-ships drove toward us, flinging away their lives to hold us longer from the great cluster beneath and its crowded, serpent-peopled worlds, throwing themselves upon us with such awful fierceness that, outnumbering them as we did, our fleet reeled and staggered there beneath their blows.
Our ships were falling by the hundreds each moment, but now we gripped ourselves, sprang upon the attacking serpent-ships with a fury that matched their own, summoning all the strength of despair ourselves as the vast battle hung thus in the balance, ourselves leaping down upon the serpent-ships with a suicidal recklessness that sent them into annihilation swiftly beneath us. For a single wild moment, it seemed, their ships and ours alike had gathered their utmost powers for one last supreme effort, were throwing themselves upon each other with a last mad burst of strength, and in that moment death-beam and red ray and unseen force-shafts flashed thick through space from ship to ship. Then the serpent-ships were thinning in number before us, fewer and fewer, as regardless of our losses we pressed our fierce attack, until at last but a scant score of them remained, a score that in the next moment were gone also, flaring crimson or crumpling and collapsing. A battered remnant of what had once been two tremendous fleets, but ten thousand ships left of all our countless thousands we hung there in space above the cluster-alone. The serpent-ships were gone at last. The serpent-fleet was no more.