shing shot into The Barbarian's tankette
before the other Leaguesman could fire. But Dugald was not aiming for
The Barbarian. First he had to eliminate Geoffrey from the scene
entirely. When he fired, at almost point-blank range, the world seemed
to explode in Giulion's eyes.

[Illustration: _Illustrated by Ed Emsh_]

Somehow, no whistling shard of metal actually hit him. But the tankette,
sturdy as it was, could not hope to protect him entirely. He was thrown
viciously into the air, his ribs first smashing into the side of the
hatch, and then he was thrown clear, onto the rocky ground of the
foothills; agonized, stunned to semi-consciousness, he lay feebly
beating at his smoldering tunic while Dugald spun viciously by him,
almost crushing him under one tread. He saw Dugald's tankette plunge
into the rocks after The Barbarian, and then, suddenly, the battle was
beyond him. Dugald, The Barbarian; all the thundering might that had
clashed here on the eastern seaboard of what had, long ago, been The
United States of America--all of this had suddenly, as battles will,
whirled off in a new direction and left Giulion Geoffrey to lie hurt and
unconscious in the night.

* * *

He awoke to the trickle of cold water between his teeth. His lips bit
into the threaded metal of a canteen top, and a huge arm supported his
shoulders. Broad shoulders and a massive head loomed over him against
the stars. A rumbling, gentle voice said: "All right, lad, now swallow
some before it's all wasted."

He peered around him in the night. It was as still as the bottom of a
grave. Nothing moved. He drew a ragged breath that ended in a sharp
gasp, and the rumbling voice said: "Ribs?"

He nodded and managed a strangled "Yes."

"Shouldn't wonder," the stranger grunted. "I saw you pop out of your
tank like a cork coming out of a wine bottle. That was a fair shot he
hit you. You're lucky." A broad hand pressed him down as the memory of
Dugald's treachery started him struggling to his feet. "Hold still, lad.
We'll give you a chance to catch your breath and wrap some bandages
around you. You'll live to give him his due, but not tonight. You'll
have to wait for another day."

There was something in the stranger's voice that Geoffrey recognized for
the quality that made men obey other men. It was competence,
self-assurance, and, even more, the calm expression of good sense.
Tonight, Geoffrey needed someone with that quality. He s