ck. The ship
shot up into the rolling clouds of ash, disappearing into the sky.

Hendricks stood watching a long time, until even the streamer had
dissipated. Nothing stirred. The morning air was chill and silent. He
began to walk aimlessly back the way they had come. Better to keep
moving around. It would be a long time before help came--if it came at
all.

He searched his pockets until he found a package of cigarettes. He lit
one grimly. They had all wanted cigarettes from him. But cigarettes
were scarce.

A lizard slithered by him, through the ash. He halted, rigid. The
lizard disappeared. Above, the sun rose higher in the sky. Some flies
landed on a flat rock to one side of him. Hendricks kicked at them
with his foot.

It was getting hot. Sweat trickled down his face, into his collar. His
mouth was dry.

Presently he stopped walking and sat down on some debris. He
unfastened his medicine kit and swallowed a few narcotic capsules. He
looked around him. Where was he?

Something lay ahead. Stretched out on the ground. Silent and unmoving.

Hendricks drew his gun quickly. It looked like a man. Then he
remembered. It was the remains of Klaus. The Second Variety. Where
Tasso had blasted him. He could see wheels and relays and metal parts,
strewn around on the ash. Glittering and sparkling in the sunlight.

Hendricks got to his feet and walked over. He nudged the inert form
with his foot, turning it over a little. He could see the metal hull,
the aluminum ribs and struts. More wiring fell out. Like viscera.
Heaps of wiring, switches and relays. Endless motors and rods.

He bent down. The brain cage had been smashed by the fall. The
artificial brain was visible. He gazed at it. A maze of circuits.
Miniature tubes. Wires as fine as hair. He touched the brain cage. It
swung aside. The type plate was visible. Hendricks studied the plate.

And blanched.

IV--IV.

For a long time he stared at the plate. Fourth Variety. Not the
Second. They had been wrong. There were more types. Not just three.
Many more, perhaps. At least four. And Klaus wasn't the Second
Variety.

But if Klaus wasn't the Second Variety--

Suddenly he tensed. Something was coming, walking through the ash
beyond the hill. What was it? He strained to see. Figures. Figures
coming slowly along, making their way through the ash.

Coming toward him.

Hendricks crouched quickly, raising his gun. Sweat dripped down into
his eyes. He fought down ri