to place when he had strapped himself
into his seat.

"Can you handle the armament, sir?" he asked.

Von Schlichten nodded approvingly. Not a very flattering question, but
the boy was right to make sure, before they started out.

"I've done it, once or twice," he understated. "Let's go; I want a
look at what's going on down at the equipment-park and the labor-camp,
first."

They lifted up, the driver turning the nose of the airjeep in the
direction of the flames and explosions and magnesium-lights to the
south and tapping his booster-button gently. The vehicle shot forward
and came floating in over the scene of the fighting. The situation-map
at the improvised headquarters had shown a mixture of pink and white
pills in the mine-equipment park; something was going to have to be
done about the lag in correcting it, for the area was entirely in the
hands of loyal Company troops, and the mob of laborers and mutinous
soldiers had been pushed back into the temporary camp where the
workers had been gathered to await transportation to the Arctic. As he
feared, the rioting workers, many of whom were trained to handle
contragravity equipment, had managed to lift up a number of
dump-trucks and powershovels and bulldozers, intending to use them as
improvised airtanks, but Jarman's combat-cars had gotten on the job
promptly and all of these had been shot down and were lying in
wreckage, mostly among the rows of parked mining-equipment.

From the labor-camp, a surprising volume of fire was being directed
against the attack which had already started from the retaken
equipment-park. This was just another evidence of the failure of
Intelligence and the Constabulary--and consequently of himself--to
anticipate the brewing storm. There was, of course, practically no
chance of keeping Ullerans from having native weapons, swords, knives,
even bows and air-rifles, and a certain number of Volund-made
trade-quality automatic pistols could be expected, but most of the
fire was coming from military rifles, and now and then he could see
the furnace-like backflash of a recoilless rifle or a bazooka, or the
steady flicker of a machine-gun. Even if a few of these weapons had
been brought from the barracks by retreating Tenth Infantry or Fifth
Cavalry mutineers, there were still too many.

Hovering above the fighting, aloof from it, he saw six long
troop-carriers land and disgorge Kragan Rifles who had been released
by the liquidation of resis