"That's what I had in mind. A positive demonstration of our superiority. So much more convincing than empty hisses and clicks." Vrausot drew himself to his full height. "It will be done. Kavula, assign twenty men to a landing party to accompany myself and Mittich out on the surface. A stun gun for each man." The pilot turned from his controls. "You'll need something heavier than that if you're going among those machines," he said officiously. Vrausot displayed his teeth in an expression of uncertainty. "But the robots won't be a factor for very long," Mittich pointed out. "The principal one has been deactivated. The others depend upon it for their power. Soon they'll be immobile too." "How soon?" "By next sunup, I'm sure." "Very well. We'll go asurface then." Vrausot withdrew for his isotonic soaking. Mittich turned back to the view screen and worked with its controls. Finally he located the aliens--five of them--trudging across the ground. They were headed for a nearby cliff in whose face yawned the mouth of a cave. It was the same cave one of the automatons had reported filled with oxygen. And he further recalled that oxygen was the basic requirement of the aliens, just as it was the Tzareans' fundamental necessity too. Evidently they feared another assault on their ship. For they were carrying a number of supplies. "You don't much approve of what the Chancellor is doing?" Kavula asked, drawing Mittich from his troubled thoughts. "_You_ do?" The pilot flicked his tail rashly--a gesture usually associated with independent thought. "If he pushes on into the alien sector, it will be genocide. Those creatures are helpless. It isn't the sort of operation I'd care to be in on. Anyway, there's no reason why Tzareans and the aliens can't live side by side, even in one small pocket of the galaxy. We have different requirements. I don't think they would even be interested in the type of world we need." Mittich eyed the pilot gravely. "We _could_ assume command from the Chancellor." "You do that. I'll watch. There are just enough glory hunters in the Assembly to have my head if I tried and failed." And Mittich was intensely dissatisfied with himself over the fact that he, too, valued his head dearly. * * * * * Aldebaran Four, rising in all its primrose splendor, cast eerie splotches of light among the tumbled rock formations outside and thrust a brilliant planetbeam boldly into the small cave. McAllister and Mortimer were huddled against the wall, still assuring each other it must have been some mistake, that there just _couldn't_ be an alien race anywhere around. Randall sat glumly on the emergency transceiver set, salvaged from the _Photon_ in order that they might contact a rescue ship--should they be able to hold out long enough for one to be sent.