in his hands. "I've failed. Failed!"

The Grdznth sitting on the stool looked regretfully from the cosmetician
to the Public Relations men. "I say--I _am_ sorry...." His coarse voice
trailed off as he peeled a long strip of cake makeup off his satiny
green face.

Pete Greenwood stared at the cosmetician sobbing in the chair. "What's
eating _him_?"

"Professional pride," said Tommy. "He can take twenty years off the face
of any woman in Hollywood. But he's not getting to first base with
Gorgeous over there. This is only one thing we've tried," he added as
they moved on down the corridor. "You should see the field reports.
We've tried selling the advances Earth will have, the wealth, the power.
No dice. The man on the street reads our PR-blasts, and then looks up to
see one of the nasty things staring over his shoulder at the newspaper."

"So you can't make them beautiful," said Pete. "Can't you make them
cute?"

"With those teeth? Those eyes? Ugh."

"How about the 'jolly company' approach?"

"Tried it. There's nothing jolly about them. They pop out of nowhere,
anywhere. In church, in bedrooms, in rush-hour traffic through Lincoln
Tunnel--look!"

Pete peered out the window at the traffic jam below. Cars were snarled
up for blocks on either side of the intersection. A squad of traffic
cops were converging angrily on the center of the mess, where a stream
of green reptilian figures seemed to be popping out of the street and
lumbering through the jammed autos like General Sherman tanks.

"Ulcers," said Tommy. "City traffic isn't enough of a mess as it is. And
they don't _do_ anything about it. They apologize profusely, but they
keep coming through." The two started on for the office. "Things are
getting to the breaking point. The people are wearing thin from sheer
annoyance--to say nothing of the nightmares the kids are having, and the
trouble with women fainting."

The signal light on Tommy's desk was flashing scarlet. He dropped into a
chair with a sigh and flipped a switch. "Okay, what is it now?"

"Just another senator," said a furious male voice. "Mr. Heinz, my
arthritis is beginning to win this fight. Are you going to see me now,
or aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, come right in!" Tommy turned white. "Senator Stokes," he
muttered. "I'd completely forgotten--"

The senator didn't seem to like being forgotten. He walked into the
office, looked disdainfully at the PR-men, and sank to the edge of a
chair, leaning