2615 side-stepped Pwowp's first charge with caution. It might have lashed out and crushed a metal fist into Pwowp's chest where it knew the alien to be. But 2615 wanted Pwowp alive and unharmed. "I've waited almost a year for this moment," 2615 said, circling the damaged human body Pwowp was in. 2615 risked a glance at the viewscreen. Over the loudspeaker came the barks and yaps and shrill happy whines of robots who knew they were dogs. On the screen the alien fleet had rallied and was coming down in battle formation. The robot fleet was going up to meet them, outnumbered ten to one yet in spite of the initial advantage it had had in surprise. Pwowp took advantage of 2615's distraction to leap in. He ducked low at the last instant and seized a metal leg and bent it with strength a hundred times that of human muscle. But 2615 as quickly seized one of Pwowp's legs and twisted, seeing it go out of shape so that it would be useless to Pwowp. They both leaped away to assess their damage. Larry and Stella, huddled against a bulkhead, watched with expressionless eyes. Pwowp was hopping on one foot, the other useless. 2615 was able to use both legs even though one was bent badly. Suddenly Pwowp gave up the battle and attempted to escape from the control room. 2615 intercepted him and tripped him, landing him on his stomach. 2615 tore at Pwowp's clothing, stripping it free. A shrill screaming sound on the upper borders of audibility shattered the air. 2615 was stripping away plastic flesh. Something darted from a hiding place within the human-like torso and became a leprous white streak as it moved toward the doorway to escape. The metal robot was after it, moving faster than living muscle could respond. The leprous streak became suddenly a _shape_ in 2615's metal hand. A quivering central mass the size of a fist, and from it went dozens of long tentacles, each terminating in a dozen string-sized flexible fingers. A shape that tore at the mind, causing it to revolt as though at something unspeakably obscene. In an armless area of the central mass a bloated yellow eye, covered with a translucent white coating rolled epileptically. A gray orifice sucked open as another supersonic scream erupted. 2615 stared down at the thing entrapped in its metal fingers, then turned to the viewscreen to watch the battle. It was almost over. Only a few hundred of the robot fleet remained. The alien fleet, now down to less than fifty ships, was trying to escape. But in it were proto-plasmic shapes that could endure far less acceleration than could the robots of metal and plastic. Even as 2615 looked, the last of the alien ships winked out of existence under the disintegrative rays of weapons they themselves had created. * * * * * The remaining ships of the robot fleet turned back toward Earth. They took their positions above it where they could at an instant's notice wreak mass destruction.