Jeffrey was grim. It was near the end. Dog eat dog. His flying fingers chose to ignore Forgacs' attack, beyond firing millions of salvos of small rockets which were little better than a delaying action. There were only two targets in this war--the Chambers. Jeffrey released his trump--thirty-five hundred flying robot tanks. They rocketed through the Marseilles screen and came on the city from the land side, firing eight-inch rockets and shooting flames out half a mile ahead. But this was a feint, too. From the sea now rose a great armada of robot submarine carriers that spewed out tanks that were little more than armored tank-cars filled with jellied XPR, which exploded always down, toward the center of gravitation. They poured out the jelly on the surface around Marseilles for a distance of twenty miles until according to Jeffrey's figures the ground was covered a foot thick. The flame-throwers roared into it and Jeffrey stopped them there. Then he fired his last salvo of atom-bombs from the Bahamas. In the meantime, Forgacs' tanks had overrun Boston, searching for the American Chamber. The lights began to wink out, and Hoshawk knew that Boston was being destroyed. Orange lights, indicating bombers, were heading for Chicago, and Hoshawk knew that if Jeffrey's guess on Marseilles was bad, he had not much longer to live. He looked at the Map. The atom-bombs were at Marseilles. A glow showed around the twenty-mile circle that he had covered with jelly, and Hoshawk knew the atom-bombs had landed. He knew that on the other continent, the most tremendous explosion in man's history was taking place. And when it was over there would be a mile-deep crater where Marseilles had been, and anything, no matter how deep it was buried, would be destroyed by concussion. Jeffrey still played the keys, but his eyes were on the orange lights approaching Chicago. They reached Chicago, perhaps directly over their heads, but Hoshawk felt no bombs. A moment later the planes were still going westward. Jeffrey called the Starter. "Does Forgacs concede?" he asked. There was a moment's delay, then, "Forgacs does not answer." The President let out an undignified whoop. He tore off the straps that held him in the chair, threw his helmet across the Chamber. "We won!" The Hemispheric diplomats were gathering excitedly in the corridor. Jeffrey unsealed the Chamber. Hoshawk shook hands with him. "You did it," he said gruffly. "I apologize for ever thinking--" The Chamber shuddered, and Hoshawk paled, but Jeffrey held up his hand. He glanced at the chronometer. "That was Marseilles blowing up," he said. His feet moved and he was gone. In a moment he was back. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he begged. "I've got to see the squad. Just figured out a way to beat the Blues. If you--" He stopped, frowned.