Randall tensed. "Yes, Carol--what is it?" Profuse light from the primary etched lines of concern on her brow. "I'm sensing electronic spill-off from somewhere up in those peaks--perhaps beyond." Randall's breath rasped in the earphones. But he only said, "Spurious stuff. Reflections caused by a dense magnetic field can throw you off like that, you know." She nodded--not enthusiastically, however. Stewart glanced at the director, who looked swiftly away. But their eyes had met for an instant and, in Randall's, Stewart wondered whether he hadn't detected something cunning, elusive. Or was it just the same nameless fear that he, himself, felt. * * * * * "There it goes!" McAllister exclaimed. "The OC's getting ready to transmit!" Elbows splayed along the ridge, Carol watched the huge machine steadying its parabolic discs on a spot close to the horizon. "See if you can pick up some of the spill-off," Stewart urged. She waved for silence. "I'm beginning to get it now." "Can you pinpoint the frequency?" "Just a notch about one thirty-six point two MCs." "On the nose, isn't it?" Randall asked. "Close enough. How _are_ the signals, Carol?" "They seem shipshape, well modulated, crammed with data. I can even read some bits having to do with oxygen--plenty of it--in that cave over there, I believe." She pointed, then glanced at Stewart. "There's no malfunctioning at all!" He retrieved his transmitter and switched from MCW to CW. "That simplifies our task. When we re-establish control, all we'll have to do is reorient the OC." Randall walked several feet away, kicked a stone, glanced up at the sky and returned. "What now?" Stewart retuned his transmitter. "Penultimate emergency procedure. I'm going to come down with both heels on the frequency at which it received code signals from the relay base." "But can you give it _coded_ commands?" "I'm just going to lock the sending key on a steady impulse. It's a 'stop-everything' order." He hit the lever. Carol winced. "Ouch. I wasn't ready for that." "What's it doing now?" he demanded. "Still transmitting. No interruption." He released the key. "Well that exhausts our bag of tricks. We'll have to do it by hand." Just then Carol's amused laughter tinkled in the earphones. "Why, that harebrain machine thinks it's God!" Randall started. "What?" "I'm having a peek at its PM&R pack spill-off. It's lord and master of the universe! There's only one thing worthy of touching its pedal pad--the puppet barge. That's because the barge, being metal too, is _a totem_!" The director shook his head and mumbled, "Most unusual." Then, "Carol! Can you see anything at all significant in its memory pack? Any evidence of--" But in the next instant she screamed and lunged back away from a foot-long metallic crab that had drawn up before her. "The Flora C&A!" Stewart made a grab for the thing, but it skirted his gloved hand and started forward again.