To Pell's left the sound of firing was intense, the sharp, hacking bark of machine-guns dominating the chorus. But ragged firing seemed to be present everywhere, apparently indicating that Dallard's Insurgents had attacked the fortress from all sides. The mercenaries seemed to be firmly entrenched, but not so firmly that a little diversion from the rear could not root them out, Pell thought, smiling mirthlessly. Gripping the blaster tightly, Pell peered into the darkness to locate a juicy target. Beyond the clump of trees in which he was concealed there was a rise in the rocky ground and silhouetted against the sky was a group of men crouching around a machine-gun and firing it down the path up which Heintz, Gret and himself had been brought. He had no doubts that discovery would be only a matter of moments--no doubt word was already being circulated about the madman with a blaster. Grimly he brought the blaster to his shoulder and depressed the firing stud. Instantly great gouts of dirt began a short-lived trip into the night sky, including the machine-gun and its crew. The effect of his sudden attack was instantaneous and confusing. The startled cries of the mercenaries was like music to Pell's ears. But a more ominous music was the faint, chopping whisper of bullets as they spattered through his clump of trees. Ignoring them, Pell leveled the blaster at every likely place in which the mercenaries might be entrenched. Hell, in the form of violently reacting stones and rocks erupted into the sky, showering the DIC soldiers with molten, lava-like droplets. Seeking protection from the super-heated rain of molten particles, some of the mercenaries panicked and fled to the blast tower that reared bulkily behind them. Their action was like a trigger for others and presently a whole mass of men were fleeing for the protection of the tower. Heartlessly Pell let his ravening blaster play among the fleeing men. And on their heels came a shouting, triumphant horde of ragged Insurgents bearing antiquated weapons. Some of them dropped, but most streamed after the terrified mercenaries into the fortress. Although they did not know whom to credit for the unexpected aid, they knew it was from a friend. Pell, infected with the wild excitement of the Insurgents, threw caution to the winds and left his hiding place to storm the warrens with them. Somewhere in that mass of cement and steel were Raul Gutridge and Gret Helmuth. For the Insurgents it was complete and utter triumph, but for Pell it was a hollow victory unless he could find Gret alive and Gutridge dead. His jaw was out-thrust with determination as he entered the fortress with the Insurgents. The DIC had beaten him before, crushing him out of business. But this time he was fighting with their methods and he was determined to win.