EVEN AS HE SPOKE, HE was tugging his own needle-gun from its holster; now its fiery beam lanced squarely at the foremost of the two attackers. Nor was Tim Mallory slow in heeding. His weapon was out in one swift movement; its beam slashed a hole in the gloom as it sought one of the silently winging creatures above.
But they might as well have taken aim at a will-o’-the-wisp. The dim glow from beyond the open door illumined only a portion of the cavern; the heights above were a well of jet, against which the crepuscular creatures were all but invisible. Again and again the two heat-beams stabbed black shadows, once Tim thought he heard a brief, whimpering cry, but no winged creature, charred in death, hurtled from the eyrie point of vantage. Only the sound of great wings beating persisted—
