The oxygen tanks were quickly distributed. Rod gave eight Survivors rapid instructions. “I’ll give you ten minutes to get in position,” he finished, “Williamson and I will watch from the top heights.”
By the time Rod and Williamson had taken their position high on the mountain-side the staggering human had won to within a hundred yards of the final slope. The flames were circling—darting forward—retreating—only to renew the attack. They were so intent on their prey they missed the helpless second figure—until he set up a hoarse scream for help.
When the flames realized there was a second quarry they hesitated—but not for long. If anything, the second man was farther gone than the one who was now scrambling up the slope.
The new quarry was bent over a cylinder of some sort. His legs kicked feebly. His arms were jerking spasmodically as he tried to tear his suit fastenings.
Almost half the flames raced to him. Tentacles outstretched, they swooped—into the oblivion of hissing oxygen. A few tried to escape. Another human stepped from behind a concealing boulder. Rod watched him play an oxygen stream over them like a pest-sprayer.
The flames which had remained behind reacted instinctively. They retreated. Their vanguard exploded before two more humans who rose from the sand-misted shadows of a narrow gorge in the plateau.
They broke then. They fled in wild disorder in the only direction open. Now, four men rose from concealed positions to bar their way.
The annihilation was complete!
On the heights above, Williamson was dancing a war jig. “We wowed ’em, Rod,” he screeched. “We wowed ’em. Look at that grey powder! Look at it! Them’s dead tetrarchs, me boy.”
He pounded Rod on the back in complete forgetfulness of the glowing doom. “When we get back to earth I’m gonna marry me a nice girl. And I’m gonna throw pop corn parties every night in the week. And I’m gonna invite all the neighbors. And when the kernels go ‘Pop’ I’m gonna say, ‘That’s what we did to the tetrarchs.’”