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A stranger was looking down at him, an ordinary-looking fellow of about thirty-five.

“Easy, now, General Straut. You’ve had a bad spill. Everything is all right. I’m Professor Lieberman, from the University.”

“The driver,” Straut said with an effort.

“He was killed when the jeep went over.”

“Went ... over?”

“The creature lashed out with a member resembling a scorpion’s stinger. It struck the jeep and flipped it. You were thrown clear. The driver jumped and the jeep rolled on him.”

Straut pushed himself up.

“Where’s Greer?”

“I’m right here, sir.” Major Greer stepped up, stood attentively.

“Those tanks here yet?”

“No, sir. I had a call from General Margrave; there’s some sort of holdup. Something about not destroying scientific material. I did get the mortars over from the base.”

Straut got to his feet. The stranger took his arm. “You ought to lie down, General—”

“Who the hell is going to make me? Greer, get those mortars in place, spaced between your tracks.”

The telephone rang. Straut seized it. “General Straut.”