He left Minnie to her struggles and went eagerly forward. Eventually, she would evaluate her position and hit upon the proper combination of responses to right herself. Meanwhile the now surface-borne needle was a new environmental item that cried for analysis, with eureka signals already coming in from several workers. Maggie, for instance, was covering the ground in lurching strides, homing in on one of the new lines of force the object had established. Seismo had recorded and sent along exciting data on tremors that could be interpreted in terms of a number of closely-spaced, localized impacts. Even Minnie--despite her predicament and in response to the basic compulsion of her function--was using her high neutron tool. Evaluation circuits humming, she was sending a stream of signals that fairly screamed, "Pure metal!" And Grazer, abandoning a patch of lichen, was scrambling up a hillside in the direction of the recently arrived object. His eureka was the most frenzied of all. Which was understandable, since he was sensing DNA molecules for the first time in his memory! The best Bigboss could surmise, from a precursory correlation of data, was that Grazer had detected the molecules in a substance that wound helically around the great needlelike form. Then his rationalization circuits labored under peak voltage as an obscure memory fragment thrust itself up from one of his drums. Again, it was a vague bit concerning his suspicions on the existence of insolent creatures who might imagine themselves superior to Him--might even be presumptuous enough to give orders to the Supreme Being! If such creatures were more than spurious impressions, he reasoned, then wasn't it likely that they, too, could move about in celestial vessels? Hadn't He all along feared that if they came to contest His Reign they would come from the sky? * * * * * Voltage regulators clicked frantically as he shunted aside raging current and averted damage to his rationalization pack. But he could hardly consider the beings without overgenerating. They were _that_ infuriating. Had the contemptuous creatures come at last, as he had always supposed they would? Was his period of agonizing vigilance at an end? Could this be the final accounting he had anticipated so anxiously? Enraged, he lumbered forward, his blaster extended rigidly before him, as though it were a lance. III Stewart dug out from under the miscellany of dislodged gear that had buried him in his acceleration couch. "Good landing," he grumbled at McAllister, whose hands were still trembling at the controls, "--all six of them." White-faced, Carol recovered her composure by releasing her hair from its free-fall net. "I wasn't sure," she whispered, "whether he was going to land or just play bounce." Randall tested his legs. "Well, at least we _are_ here."