ts destroyed the first--under the impression
they were the Earth survivors of a war--the aliens would silence the
second frequency transmitter. Earth would be populated by less than
thirty male mutants. The race of man would not breed back. In a few
years, the planet would be ready for its conquerors.

I wish I could tell Walt that, she thought. Maybe it would be of some
help to him.

The four saucers landed.

She bent forward tensely.

Has he convinced them? Are they coming out to surrender?

CHAPTER XII

Walt was outside the ship. His feet planted firmly, he waited. The four
advancing mutants were not yet adjusted to the space disorientation.
Behind them, the tip of the Washington Monument loomed starkly white
above the trees.

Walt's anger rose to an even greater fury. He knew how Julia had felt as
a child: the hot, impotent flare of rage; the senseless desire to throw
something; to smash and destroy something; to disprove helplessness by
some savage action.

The mutants were closer; terror was dying out of their eyes. Their lips
were relaxing. Their bodies were loosening to their wills.

_We're going to kill you, Walt: with our hands._

_Lyrian traitor._

Walt was breathing in shallow gasps. They would rush him in a minute.
Willy, out of the saucer ship now, crouched only yards away, ready to
spring. He feinted, and Walt flinched instinctively.

_You can't displace from five of us!_

_Not and hold the shielding, traitor!_

General Tibbets, in the doorway behind Walt, began firing at the mutants
with a pistol.

Bob clutched at his chest and staggered. In an instant, the others were
displaced and invulnerable.

Bob fell.

Reg went to his wounded companion, held him in displacement, healed him
rapidly.

Bob coughed and shook his head and scrambled to his feet. He screamed
his hate at the general.

The pistol clicked on an empty chamber.

Walt retreated several steps.

_... green wartle rivers of Lyria; birdsong, there, in a skybranch,
partly pretty orange and soft like fur pictures...._

He was in Calvin's mind!

Calvin was sitting in the games space, on the floor, rolling the metal
practice ball back and forth before him between his hairy hands.
Forential was speaking. The confining walls of the space station were so
comfortingly solid....

And Walt had a fix on it! Knew its position, its direction, its speed!
He had an anchor!

Where is something? he thought wildly. Quick!