They rested. Somewhat to their surprise, they were now seasoned enough campaigners so that they could rest; even Constance. But the respite was short. Area K, the headquarters and the citadel of His Ultimate Supremacy and the Innermost Circle of the Boskonian Empire, contained all that remained of Eddorian life.
"No tight linkage yet, kids," Kit the Organizer went smoothly to work. "Individual effort—a flash of fusion, perhaps, now and then, if any of us call for it, but no Unit until I give the word. Then give it everything you've got. Cam, analyze that screen and set us up a pattern for it—you'll find that it'll take some doing. See whether it's absolutely homogenous—hunt for weak spots, if any. Con, narrow down to the sharpest needle you can possibly make and start pecking. Not too hard—don't tire yourself—just to get acquainted with the texture of the thing and keep them awake. Kay, take over our guard so that Eukonidor can join the other Arisians. Kat, come along with me—you'll have to help with the Arisians until I call you into the Unit.
"You Arisians, except Mentor, blanket this dome. Thinner than that—solider, harder—there. A trifle off-balance yet—give me just a little more, here on this side. QX—hold it right there! SQUEEZE! Kat, watch 'em. Hold them right there and in balance until you're sure that the Eddorians aren't going to be able to put any bulges up through the blanket.
"Now, Mentor, you and the Lensmen. Tell them to give us, for the next five seconds, absolutely everything that they can deliver. When they're at absolute peak, hit us with it all. Hit us dead center, and don't pull your punch. We'll be ready.
"Con, get ready to stick that needle there—they'll think it's just another peck, I hope—and prepare to blast as you never blasted before. Kay, get ready to drop that screen and stiffen the needle—when those Lensmen hit us even you will know that you're not just being patted on the back. The rest of us will brace you and keep the shock from killing us all. Here it comes. Make Unit! GO!"
The Unit struck. The needle of pure force drove against the Eddorians' supposedly absolutely impenetrable shield. The Unit's thrust was, of itself, like nothing ever before known. The Lensmen's pile-driver blow—the integrated sum total of the top effort of every First-Stage Lensman of the entire Galactic Patrol—was of itself irresistible. Something had to give way.
For an instant it seemed as though nothing were happening or ever would happen. Strong young arms laced the straining Five into a group as motionless and as sculpturesque as statuary, while between their bodies and around them there came into being a gigantic Lens—a Lens whose splendor filled the entire room with radiance.
Under that awful concentration of force something had to give way. The Unit held. The Arisians held. The Lensmen held. The needle of force, superlatively braced, neither bent nor broke. Therefore the Eddorians' screen was punctured; and in the instant of its puncturing it disappeared as does a bubble when it breaks.
There was no mopping-up to do. Such was the torrent of force cascading into that citadel that within a moment after its shield went down all life within it was snuffed out.