of the camp site, the temporary home for
the scout ship and the eleven men who, with Alan, were the only humans
on the jungle planet, Waiamea.

* * * * *

Stepping through the low shrubbery at the edge of the site, he looked
across the open area to the two temporary structures, the camp
headquarters where the power supplies and the computer were; and the
sleeping quarters. Beyond, nose high, stood the silver scout ship that
had brought the advance exploratory party of scientists and technicians
to Waiamea three days before. Except for a few of the killer robots
rolling slowly around the camp site on their quiet treads, there was no
one about.

"So, they've finally got those things working." Alan smiled slightly.
"Guess that means I owe Pete a bourbon-and-soda for sure. Anybody who
can build a robot that hunts by homing in on animals' mind impulses ..."
He stepped forward just as a roar of blue flame dissolved the branches
of a tree, barely above his head.

Without pausing to think, Alan leaped back, and fell sprawling over a
bush just as one of the robots rolled silently up from the right,
lowering its blaster barrel to aim directly at his head. Alan froze. "My
God, Pete built those things wrong!"

Suddenly a screeching whirlwind of claws and teeth hurled itself from
the smoldering branches and crashed against the robot, clawing insanely
at the antenna and blaster barrel. With an awkward jerk the robot swung
around and fired its blaster, completely dissolving the lower half of
the cat creature which had clung across the barrel. But the back
pressure of the cat's body overloaded the discharge circuits. The robot
started to shake, then clicked sharply as an overload relay snapped and
shorted the blaster cells. The killer turned and rolled back towards the
camp, leaving Alan alone.

Shakily, Alan crawled a few feet back into the undergrowth where he
could lie and watch the camp, but not himself be seen. Though visibility
didn't make any difference to the robots, he felt safer, somehow,
hidden. He knew now what the shooting sounds had been and why there
hadn't been anyone around the camp site. A charred blob lying in the
grass of the clearing confirmed his hypothesis. His stomach felt sick.

"I suppose," he muttered to himself, "that Pete assembled these robots
in a batch and then activated them all at once, probably never living to
realize that they're tuned to pick up human brain wa