The three worked well together, swiftly and efficiently. Erol sat on the veranda, in the open, with a pistol under a lap robe, while Yma and Florin stationed themselves inside. The three gyros approached cautiously. They were the large black type used by the planetary police, but from the inexpert way they were handled all three at the lodge knew they were not bearing police. They carried bombs, the one weapon allowable to planetary police by the Galactic Patrol, but the men in them would have nothing more than firearms. Therefore it was imperative to get them on the ground. They circled over the lodge, with two finally landing and one remaining aloft. Florin padded over to Yma, and whispered for her to station herself in some bushes by the lodge. He told her to try to shoot down the gyro above when firing began. Men piled out of the ships which had landed, and approached the lodge. They spread out and swiftly encircled the building. They all carried rifles. Florin estimated that there were about twenty of them. Three of them approached Erol. "Are you Erol Garbin?" "Yes. What can I do for you?" "We are arresting you." "What for?" "For betraying the confidence of the people." "May I see your warrant?" "We don't need a warrant. We are a people's committee, come to take you to a people's court, where you will undoubtedly be found guilty and executed." "And what if I refuse to recognize your authority?" "We will have to kill you. Resisting arrest--" What happened next surprised Florin with its swiftness. Erol flipped the gun from under the robe and with three snap shots dropped all three men. Florin did not let surprise hamper him, for Erol's shots were echoed by his own rifle, which caught two men who were further away. As the rest of the attackers dove for cover, Florin was pleased to hear the blast of a rifle from the side of the lodge, and the whine of a shattered blade as the gyro plummeted to the ground. Yma had done well, hitting where he told her, at the base of the props. The moment of victory was rudely shattered by a volley of fire from the men around the lodge. As Erol sprang from his chair and dove towards the door, he was hit and fell outside. Ignoring his wound he kicked over a table and used it as a shield, returning fire. Florin's thought of rescuing him was cut short by Erol's yell, "Get to the back of the lodge. They may rush it." Florin made a dash for it, finding Erol's words true. The attackers were moving in. He still heard firing from the front and side, so he felt reassured. He was lost in the blind ritual of firing at moving objects. His whole mind was devoted to the problems of loading clips, changing windows to keep everything covered, and trying to stay out of the path of the viciously whining bullets.