Seattle. The bombers were systematically destroying America’s population centers. And still Wadsworth waited. He sat tense before the Map, watching the endless stream of lights come from the sea.

But they were beginning to end. Many were far inland, attacking the smaller cities, cleaning up the big ones.

“The bombers won’t be destroyed,” said Hoshawk, “if they’ve already dropped their bombs.”

“I think they will, for all practical purposes,” said the President. “Their ammunition, their signal flares⁠—everything explosive will be detonated.”

“How can you cover them all at once?”

“There are over nine hundred frequencies⁠—but we don’t know that they will be enough,” Jeffrey pointed out gravely. “We can only hope.”

Hoshawk couldn’t stand still any longer. He paced the floor before the Map. “Every city in America of more than a hundred thousand is gone⁠—obliterated,” he said tonelessly. “Can’t we ever⁠—”

“Wait!” The President was alert. “The last line of flamethrowers is coming on land.” He pointed to the black dots streaming up on the west coast. He spoke into the audio transmitter. He didn’t bother with the scrambler now. “Sonic stations on. Emergency force. Sonic stations on. Emergency force. Situation critical.”

He pointed to the Map and sat back. Within a few seconds the purple lights began to flash intermittently.

“They’re on,” said the President. “But it will take a few minutes for them to reach full intensity. The sonic devices operate at high speeds⁠—some at two hundred thousand r.p.m. ”