Jeffrey let him believe that. He sent eight thousand giant electron-controlled bombers through the Marseilles gap and straight for Berlin.

The green lights started winking on the coast of France, showing the submarines were unloading amphibious tanks. Jeffrey started them out across France at high speed. Near Paris they met heavy resistance from Forgacs’ tank-killers.

But now Jeffrey had more trouble. Forgacs had slipped a salvo of atom bombs into the Labrador power station, and the entire north quadrant of Jeffrey’s screen was down. And just at that instant, the automatic breaker failed and a tube burned out in the Montevideo power station, and the southern half of South America was exposed. Green lights began to wink up at the open spaces.

Jeffrey was grim. It was near the end. Dog eat dog. His flying fingers chose to ignore Forgacs’ attack, beyond firing millions of salvos of small rockets which were little better than a delaying action.

There were only two targets in this war⁠—the Chambers.

Jeffrey released his trump⁠—thirty-five hundred flying robot tanks.

They rocketed through the Marseilles screen and came on the city from the land side, firing eight-inch rockets and shooting flames out half a mile ahead.

But this was a feint, too. From the sea now rose a great armada of robot submarine carriers that spewed out tanks that were little more than armored tank-cars filled with jellied X.P.R. , which exploded always down, toward the center of gravitation. They poured out the jelly on the surface around Marseilles for a distance of twenty miles until according to Jeffrey’s figures the ground was covered a foot thick. The flamethrowers roared into it and Jeffrey stopped them there.

Then he fired his last salvo of atom-bombs from the Bahamas.