"Is deadly. Make no mistake about that. It expels some sort of radiation which will either kill or stun, depending on the way its dial is set. But we have the advantage of surprise."
"How about the Daans? Don't they have some sort of communication, like radio or telephone? Any race as smart as theirs—"
"They have. An instrument they call the 'telaudio.' But our objective is to take this city and set up a fortress here before outside help can arrive. Jain—all are ready?"
"Ready and eager, O Dwain!" answered she who was in general command of the allied fighters.
"Then—" Steve drew a deep breath—"let's go!"
Thus simply, without fanfare or threat, declaration or parley, was launched the first reprisal blow of long-time captive humankind against its extraterrestrial oppressors.
Like a wave rose the earthlings from their places of concealment to hurl themselves forward into the city. It did not matter that they had marched thirty-five miles during the night; these were strong women and stronger men, their sinews were hardened in the never-ending struggle against nature.
Their hearts were strong, too, and their voices. As they charged the Daans' citadel they roared, and their cries were a paean of deliverance.
"For the Slumberers—strike! Strike for the Slumberers!"
What happened during the next hour was all chaos and confusion. At the head of the advancing Tuckians, Steve had neither the perspective from which to view the battle in its entirety nor the time to analyze its tide. He was swept away in a torrent of action ... of blow-dealing and blow-fending ... of movement and halt ... life and death ... which was beyond the scope of any single mote's comprehension.