n. "Are the women and children all out?" he
shouted.

"All taken care of." Tegan spat tobacco juice, and wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand.

"Where's Mel?"

"Left flank. He'll try to move in behind them. Gonna be tough, Pete,
they've got good weapons."

"What about the boys last night?"

John was checking the bolt on his ancient rifle. "Hank and Ringo? Just
got back an hour ago. If Varga wants to get his surface planes into
action, he's going to have to dismantle them and rebuild them outside.
The boys jammed up the launching ports for good." He spat again. "Don't
worry, Pete. This is going to be a ground fight."

"Okay." Pete held out his hand to the old man. "This may be it. And if
we turn them back, there's bound to be more later."

"There's a lot of planet to hide on," said Tegan. "They may come back,
but after a while they'll go again."

Pete nodded. "I just hope we'll still be here when they do."

They waited. It seemed like hours. Pete moved from post to post among
the men, heavy-faced men he had known all his life, it seemed. They
waited with whatever weapons they had available--pistols, home-made
revolvers, ortho-guns, an occasional rifle, even knives and clubs.
Pete's heart sank. They were bitter men, but they were a mob with no
organization, no training for fighting. They would be facing a dozen of
Security's best-disciplined shock troops, armed with the latest weapons
from Earth's electronics laboratories. The colonists didn't stand a
chance.

Pete got his rifle and made his way up the rise of ground overlooking
the right flank of the village. Squinting, he could spot the cloud of
dust rising up near the glistening ship, moving toward the village. And
then, for the first time, he realized that he hadn't seen any Dusties
all day.

It puzzled him. They had been in the village in abundance an hour before
dawn, while the plans were being laid out. He glanced around, hoping to
see one of the fuzzy brown forms at his elbow, but he saw nothing. And
then, as he stared at the cloud of dust coming across the valley, he
thought he saw the ground moving.

He blinked, and rubbed his eyes. With a gasp he dragged out his
binoculars and peered down at the valley floor. There were thousands of
them, hundreds of thousands, their brown bodies moving slowly out from
the hills surrounding the village, converging into a broad, liquid
column between the village and the ship. Even as he watched, the column