was chattering in
nervous excitement.

Gasping painfully he selected five of his best mutants.

"Come!" he cried. "I will explain as we go. Traitors on Earth.... Walt
is a traitor.... Hurry!"

"I'll come too," Calvin cried eagerly. "I'll come too!"

"You stay here!" Forential ordered.

**When the installation is destroyed, prepare to switch your transmitter
back on again, Lycan,** the Elder ordered. **If any of your mutants are
alive, they can resume destruction.**

**If all goes well,** Forential thought, **we may yet succeed. I will
reassign sectors among my remaining charges.**

Shortly five new saucer ships left the space station.

* * * * *

The five saucers, in V-formation, careened into the atmosphere. They
circled the planet, slowing. The leader peered at a floating needle in a
spherical container of liquid. The needle vibrated in answer to the beam
of interference it was attuned to. The silver tip wobbled back and forth
across the target.

The ships leveled out over the Rocky Mountains. Losing altitude, they
hurtled on a sloping trajectory toward Washington.

Across the Great Plains. Across the turgid, swollen Mississippi River.
Across the Appalachians, worn and old.

They slowed. The controls became more sluggish.

They hovered over Washington. The needle dipped.

Below, white and massive with afternoon sunlight, the Washington
Monument, the tallest piece of masonry on the planet, loomed up between
The Ellipse and the Tidal Basin, towering 555 feet into the air:
standing rooted and solid and defiant.

Walt _felt_ them.

"Mutants from my compartment!" he cried.

Instantly all activity in the laboratory ceased. It resumed almost
immediately, pointless and frantic, now.

"They've been sent to destroy our signal generator," Dr. Norvel said
matter of factly.

Technicians glanced anxiously at the suddenly unsubstantial walls. There
was no protection. They were exposed as completely as if they were alone
on a flat, barren tennis court of infinite dimensions.

"Cut off the transmitter!" the general ordered. "Find Walt's
interference frequency!"

"... too late," Julia said. "We haven't time."

"We could be lucky!" the general insisted. "Pick a frequency range.
Maybe we can hit the right one. Hurry up, for Christ's sake; you,
there--!"

"But we can't cut the transmitter off," Dr. Norvel pleaded. "It would
release the other mutants. Give them even five minute