ents and the force of the blast
staggered all three Tellurians.

"Damn it, Belle, cut down or get to hell out!" Garlock yelped. "I said
two point four _micrograms_, not milligrams. Just kill 'em, don't
scatter 'em all over hell's half acre--less mess to clean up and I
_don't_ want you to kill people down below. Especially I don't want you
to kill us--not even yourself."

"'Scuse, please, I guess I was a bit enthusiastic in my weighing."

There began a series of muffled explosions along the front; each
followed by the plunge of a tiger-striped body to the ground. Faster and
faster the explosions came as the Operator and the Primes learned the
routine and the rhythm of the job.

Nor were they long alone. The roaring, screaming howl of jets came up
from behind them; four Arpalones appeared at their left, strung out
along the front. Each held an extraordinarily heavy-duty blaster in each
of his four hands; sixteen terrific weapons were hurling death into the
flying horde.

"Slide over, Terrestrials," came a calm thought. "You three take their
left front, we'll take their right and center."

As they obeyed the instructions, "_They_ don't give a damn where the
pieces fly!" Belle protested. "Why should we be fussy about their
street-cleaning department? _I'm_ starting to use fives."

"Okay. We'll have to hit 'em harder, anyway, to keep up. Five or maybe
six--just be damn sure not to knock us or the Arpalones out of the air."

Carnage went on. The battle-front, while inside the city limits, was now
almost stationary.

"Ha! Help--I hear footsteps approaching on jet-back," Garlock announced.
"Give 'em hell, boys--shovel on the coal!"

* * *

A flight of fighter-planes, eight abreast and wing-tips almost touching,
howled close overhead and along the line of invasion. They could not
fire, of course, until they reached the city limits. There they opened
up as one, and the air below became literally filled with falling
monsters. Some had only broken wings; some were dead, but more or less
whole; many were blown to unrecognizable bits and scraps of flesh.

Another flight screamed into place immediately behind the first; then
another and another and another until six flights had passed. Then came
four helicopters, darting and hovering, whose gunners picked off
individually whatever survivors had managed to escape all six waves of
fighters.

"That's better," came a thought from the Arpalone ne