He moved forward on his hands and knees, watching, listening, praying that he didn't trip another eye. The bushes crackled around him. The wind, dammit. He stopped and listened, heard his heart beating in his throat. He decided he could crawl just as well with one hand, so he took out the gun. It was at that moment that he saw the first Faktor. An instant silhouette through the trees ahead, moving silently toward him. They were coming. * * * * * He dropped to his stomach, crawled with a cold silent slide into the nearest bush clump. Although they probably knew to the foot where he was, he had to lie still. In a brief, brutal flash of reproach and disgust, he realized what an idiot he'd been to come out here alone. But there was no helping that now. He moved down behind a fallen log, laid the barrel of the .45 on the trunk and sighted through the leaves. Now he could hear them. They were small, but sloppy. Maybe they didn't care. That didn't figure. But by now they had undoubtedly understood his immunity, were coming to kill him in the bloody ways of Earth. He had no way of knowing that the Faktors had been terrified to realize that a Galactic was approaching, but immensely relieved to see that the Galactic was afoot. To the Faktors, Web was one of two things: a hybrid, or a stranded Galactic. For no agent would ever approach on foot, not in his right mind. Short of a force field, no armor known will stop a high velocity missile. And a Galactic on foot could not have that. The killing of a Galactic was a rare thing, a delectable thing. Seven Faktors converged on Web. He let them come in very close, counting them and noting their positions, before he fired. When the nearest man was ten yards away, crawling toward Web at an angle, the white round eyes looked past him. In the last second he saw that they were circling the wrong spot. They had not expected his sideward movement. He fired. The heavy police bullet caught the Faktor in the head. He died where he lay, instantly. There were swift, rising, horribly frightened screams from the bushes around him. Web rolled back from the log, crawled around to the other side of the tree. The god-awful things were whimpering. He peered furtively around the tree looking for another shot while the shooting was good, wondering how in hell they'd ever gotten the nerve to come in after him. And then he looked at the body of the alien he'd killed, saw the small brown bomb in his hand, and knew. They'd never intended to get in close. They probably hadn't even expected him to be armed. He grinned viciously, turning his head the while to look for a way out. In that instant he saw another alien move. He fired. The shot went home. There were more screams. Good God, he said, almost aloud, shocked. He did not fire again, the fear of the things was revolting. He wanted to get out.