gineering equipment on contragravity and troop carriers
full of workmen and guards, flanked by air cavalry, which circled
above while everything else landed, then scattered out over a
fifty-mile radius. Occasionally there was a hammering of machine guns,
either because somebody saw something on the ground that might need
shooting at or simply because it was a beautiful morning to make a
noise.

The ship settled quickly and daintily, while Conn and Anse and Rodney
Maxwell sat in the car and watched. Immediately, she began opening
like a beetle bursting from its shell, large sections of armor
swinging outward. Except for the bridge and the gun turrets, almost
the whole ship could be opened; she had been designed to land in the
middle of a battle and deliver ammunition when seconds could mean the
difference between life and death. Jeeps and lifters and manipulators
and things floated out of her. Scows began landing and unloading
prefab-hut elements. A water tank landed, and the cook-shed began
going up beside it; a lorry came in with scanning and probing
equipment, and a couple of men jumped off and huddled over a
photoprint copy of one of Conn's maps.

Conn lifted the car again and coasted it half a mile to where the
cleft in the mesa started. There were half a dozen claw-armed
manipulators already there, and two giant power shovels. Jerry Rivas
and one of the engineers Kurt Fawzi had hired had gotten out of a jeep
and were looking at another photoprint of the map. Rivas pointed to
the head of the canyon, where a mass of rock had slid down.

"That's it; you can still see where they put off the shots."

The canyon was long enough and wide enough for the _Lester Dawes_
to land in it; she could be loaded directly from the tunnel. The
manipulators began moving in, wrestling with the larger chunks of
rock and dragging or carrying them away. Power shovels began grunting
and clanking and rumbling; dust rose in a thick column. Toward
midmorning, the troop carriers which served as school buses in
Litchfield arrived, loaded with more workmen. A lorry lettered
STORISENDE HERALD-GUARDIAN came in, hovered over the canyon, and
began transmitting audiovisuals. More news-folk put in an appearance.

The earth and rock at the top of the tunnel entrance fell away,
revealing the vitrified stone lintel; everybody cheered and dug
harder. More aircars arrived, getting in each other's and everybody
else's way. Raymond Fitch, Lester Dawes,