"Heaven forbid!" growled Haney.

There was an outrageous tumult outside the wide-open gap in the Shed's
wall. Something went shrieking by the doorway. It looked like the
magnified top half of a loaf of baker's bread, painted gray and equipped
with an air-scoop in front and a plastic bubble for a pilot. It howled
like a lost baby dragon, its flat underside tilted up and up until it
was almost vertical. It had no wings, but a blue-white flame spurted
out of its rear, wobbling from side to side for reasons best known to
itself. It was a pushpot, which could not possibly be called a jet plane
because it could not possibly fly. Only it did. It settled down on its
flame-spouting tail, and the sparse vegetation burst into smoky flame
and shriveled, and the thing--still shrieking like a fog-horn in a
tunnel--flopped flat forward with a resounding _clank!_ It was abruptly
silent.

But the total noise was not lessened. Another pushpot came soaring
wildly into view, making hysterical outcries. It touched and banged
violently to earth. Others appeared in the air beyond the construction
Shed. One flopped so hard on landing that its tail rose in the air and
it attempted a somersault. It made ten times more noise than before--the
flame from its tail making wild gyrations--and flopped back again with a
crash. Two others rolled over on their sides after touching ground. One
ended up on its back like a tumble-bug, wriggling.

They seemed to land by hundreds, but their number was actually in
dozens. It was not until the last one was down that Joe could make
himself heard. The pushpots were jet motors in frames and metal skin,
with built-in jato rocket tubes besides their engines. On the ground
they were quite helpless. In the air they were unbelievably clumsy. They