Placer flicked a switch on the intercom system. "Touchstone, are you men safe?" he asked. "Yes, sir," replied a voice on the other end. "We locked ourselves in, because there aren't any heatguns we can get to from here. The Jellies haven't gotten this far down yet. They seem to be cowed by the Toughs at the door to Miss Cara Nome's room, and the Toughs are strutting around getting themselves in the mood for an attack. We've been watching them through the window." "Good," said Placer. "Between the Toughs at that end and our heatguns at this end, we ought to be able to force them back below without much trouble. Are we ready to move out?" A different voice came in over the intercom, the voice of the tenth Master, who was on duty in the farm's control room. "Placer, the screens show three groundcars moving up from the south," he said. "I've tried to contact them by radio, but they don't answer." "We haven't been notified to expect any government visitors," said Placer. "It may be a convoy of travelers off-course in the desert, or it could be a wandering party of escaped rebels. Warn them away." "Yes, sir." Touchstone's voice came in from the other end of the hall. "The Toughs are attacking, Placer. Space, it's awful! Those poor Jellies can't stand up to the Toughs." Suddenly his voice changed, and became shrill with excitement. "Placer! One of those Jellies has a heatgun! Two of the Toughs were just burned down, and the others are falling back down the hall. The Jellies are coming on, and I can see the gun in the hand of one of them." "Great space!" muttered Placer. "All right, Touchstone. Hold tight and keep that door locked. We'll get to you." He turned to the others. "We've got to move out now," he said. "Use full intensity and shoot to kill. We'll have to burn our way through those Jellies and get to the other end of the hall." Leaving one of the Masters at the intercom in the control room, the other six went out into the corridor, heatguns ready. The foremost Jellies had advanced almost to the door, and now that they had spread out along the corridor, they were not packed so closely together. The six men advanced steadily, leveling their guns. They fired, intense, almost invisible beams stabbing into the group of Jellies. Jellies shrieked in pain, several of them collapsing to the floor with smoking flesh. The others turned in panic and began to crowd back down the corridor, the beams stabbing at them and picking them off one by one. Then, from amid the Jellies, a beam struck forth, and one of the Masters went down, his face burned away. Placer burned down the Jelly holding the heatgun, and the five survivors moved grimly on. On the ramp ahead, Dark and Old Beard approached the open gate to the corridor, Happy and Shadow following them. "I wish I had been able to find more heatguns at Ultra Vires," said Dark to Old Beard. "Only three, besides our four, are spreading them out pretty thin."