"Yes, sir."
Touchstone's voice came in from the other end of the hall.
"The Toughs are attacking, Placer. Space, it's awful! Those poor Jellies can't stand up to the Toughs."
Suddenly his voice changed, and became shrill with excitement.
"Placer! One of those Jellies has a heatgun! Two of the Toughs were just burned down, and the others are falling back down the hall. The Jellies are coming on, and I can see the gun in the hand of one of them."
"Great space!" muttered Placer. "All right, Touchstone. Hold tight and keep that door locked. We'll get to you."
He turned to the others.
"We've got to move out now," he said. "Use full intensity and shoot to kill. We'll have to burn our way through those Jellies and get to the other end of the hall."
Leaving one of the Masters at the intercom in the control room, the other six went out into the corridor, heatguns ready. The foremost Jellies had advanced almost to the door, and now that they had spread out along the corridor, they were not packed so closely together.
The six men advanced steadily, leveling their guns. They fired, intense, almost invisible beams stabbing into the group of Jellies.