The slave compartment feint-party left first. Communications-destroyers left in four groups. Space-hangar attack-parties followed. Under Bunny’s direction, they had managed to rig up a fairly creditable camouflage. There was an argument about command of the main force against the science building. Rod had assumed it without second thought. Williamson was obdurate. “I don’t care who handles it, Rod,” he said, “but you can’t. If anything goes wrong there’ll be no one left to carry the fight. You’ve got to stay here until we control the lowlands.” “I’ll be twenty-five next month,” Rod said briefly. “So it can’t matter much one way or the other.” “Sorry, Rod. I forgot about that. I’ve only six weeks to go myself. One of the youngsters will have to take over the reserve.” “Then you and I will take a whack at this together.” Williamson draped two cannisters of oxygen about his waist. “Let’s go,” he said. Their pace down the mountain was swift but unhurried. On the plateau Williamson scuffled tetrarchian ashes whenever he found them. They were fast disappearing in the swirling sand. They scattered their force when they left the foothills. There was an occasional tetrarch flame to draw the men’s fire. * * * * * They encountered their first resistance within blaster range of the mines. From the roof of the slave compartment purple blaster arcs rained down. The fire was scattered at first but it increased in volume when the main body of the Survivors surged into view. The tetrarchs were no mean marksmen. The stench of burning, smoking flesh tainted the atmosphere. As the men broke for cover Rod demonstrated counter measures. He took position behind a corner wall and fired three times. Each shot punctured a tetrarchian mask. When the enemy huddled to replace them he lobbed an oxygen cannister over the roof and blasted it as it poised at the height of its arc. The hissing gas struck quickly. He saw one of the unprotected tetrarchs collapse. Its imitation body toppled over the parapet to the ground. A Survivor wiggled toward it and snatched a blaster from its limp hand. He accounted for three more on the roof before they killed him. His sacrifice gave his fellows an opportunity. While he had engaged the tetrarchs two Survivors wedged themselves in the corner of a supporting abutment. One had clambered on the other’s shoulders. The men scrambled up this living ladder and over the parapet. In the midst of a wild melee support came--through the roof. The feinting force that had attacked earlier had taken the interior of the slave compartment. They cut through the roof when they heard the scuffling. Oxygen roared through the opening into Tetrarch’s dead atmosphere. The struggle was brief--and without quarter to the tetrarchs. Rod, meanwhile, had reorganized his forces and directed them to proceed to the science building and surround it.