The vanguard of robot explorers, led by the towering Operations Co-ordinator, had reached the ship. The Magnetometer began darting around one of the hydraulic fins, charting lines of isomagnetic intensity. The Mineral Analyzer had already sunk its drill into the broad, flat surface of the stabilizer. And the Flora Collector and Analyzer was being boosted by the OC to the lowest spiral of the ship's subspace drive intensifier. Deposited upon the ceramics-insulated coil, the crablike puppet was doing its best to flake off some of the outer substance for testing. McAllister laughed. "Look at those mixed-up machines! They're trying to _analyze_ the ship!" "That's what I mean," Randall pointed out soberly. "One of their inhibitions is to ignore refined metal. That's how we keep their barges from being pecked to pieces." "You don't think we can run into trouble out there, do you?" Mortimer asked, concerned. Randall hesitated. "No, but we won't take any chances, although it's doubtful that loss of contact has obscured their _basic_ inhibition." "Of course it hasn't. Nothing like that's ever happened." "In that case, you won't mind accompanying us outside." Mortimer stabbed his chest with a pudgy thumb. "_Me?_" "Right." McAllister, Stewart noticed, was frowning in front of the screen as he watched the Flora C&A munching away at the subspace drive coil. "That thing can't do any damage, can it?" "Not as long as the current's off," Stewart assured. Mortimer paled as he lunged for the subspace drive switch. But just then there was a thunderous concussion and the _Photon II_ lurched and swayed on its hydraulic fins. Randall shrugged. "Well, there goes our subspace drive." "And our long-range transmitter too," Stewart added. "They both work off the same generator." Outside, the puppets were withdrawing. Mortimer, pulling up short of the switch, spread his arms apologetically. "I forgot to turn the circuit off." Stewart grimaced. "Well, one thing's for sure: We're not going to finish up in a couple of hours and head for home." Aiming the pickup lens more directly at the damaged area, Randall filled the screen with an image of shredded cable and shattered ceramics. "It'll take a week to repair that." McAllister's face had whitened, causing the veins in his forehead to stand out under taut skin. "You mean we're stuck here?" "As far as subspace is concerned. And I can't think of any lively spot we might want to visit in the Aldebaran system." * * * * * Keeping a ridge of hills between themselves and the robots, Stewart trailed the telepuppet team towards their working area. Randall stumbled and fell against him. Glancing back, he saw that the director had lost his footing because he was still staring at the sky. Within the helmet, his face appeared harsh and grim in the profuse coral planetlight.