hered off
into the jungle undergrowth.

For a split second the jungle stood frozen in a brilliant blue flash,
followed by the sharp report of a blaster. Then another. Alan whirled,
startled. The planet's double moon had risen and he could see a robot
rolling slowly across the clearing in his general direction, blasting
indiscriminately at whatever mind impulses came within its pickup range,
birds, insects, anything. Six or seven others also left the camp
headquarters area and headed for the jungle, each to a slightly
different spot.

Apparently the robot hadn't sensed him yet, but Alan didn't know what
the effective range of its pickup devices was. He began to slide back
into the jungle. Minutes later, looking back he saw that the machine,
though several hundred yards away, had altered its course and was now
headed directly for him.

His stomach tightened. Panic. The dank, musty smell of the jungle seemed
for an instant to thicken and choke in his throat. Then he thought of
the big ship landing in the morning, settling down slowly after a lonely
two-week voyage. He thought of a brown-haired girl crowding with the
others to the gangway, eager to embrace the new planet, and the next
instant a charred nothing, unrecognizable, the victim of a design error
or a misplaced wire in a machine. "I have to try," he said aloud. "I
have to try." He moved into the blackness.

Powerful as a small tank, the killer robot was equipped to crush, slash,
and burn its way through undergrowth. Nevertheless, it was slowed by the
larger trees and the thick, clinging vines, and Alan found that he could
manage to keep ahead of it, barely out of blaster range. Only, the robot
didn't get tired. Alan did.

The twin moons cast pale, deceptive shadows that wavered and danced
across the jungle floor, hiding debris that tripped him and often sent
him sprawling into the dark. Sharp-edged growths tore at his face and
clothes, and insects attracted by the blood matted against his pants and
shirt. Behind, the robot crashed imperturbably after him, lighting the
night with fitful blaster flashes as some winged or legged life came
within its range.

There was movement also, in the darkness beside him, scrapings and
rustlings and an occasional low, throaty sound like an angry cat. Alan's
fingers tensed on his pocket blaster. Swift shadowy forms moved quickly
in the shrubs and the growling became suddenly louder. He fired twice,
blindly, into the undergr