In an instant they were gone, melting into the colored riot of the jungle, the beasts' hoofs beating ever more faintly as they moved away. Shreve turned back to the ship. He should have felt no temperature changes within his stat-field, yet somehow he had grown chilled in a few seconds. * * * * * Night had descended quickly, dropping like a sea of ink over Diamore. The robomechs had set out the floodlamps, almost to the edges of the jungle, and the _Wallower_ was bathed in white light, sharply outlining her plate construction, and the clean transparency of the conning bubbles. Paul Jukovsky, Roboexec, jg, stood behind his control console in the construction bubble, watching the thirty ton robomech carrying its burden. The sixteen-wheeled robomech rolled off the extended cargo hatch ramp, sinking just a bit into the springy ground of Diamore. Jukovsky grinned at his foresight in spreading a primary hardener over the surface before the big boys went to work. He two-fingered a cigarette out of his lapel pocket, stifling a belch. "Damn that cookie," he muttered. "If he doesn't stop putting cayenne in the salad...." He stuck the cigarette in his mouth, lipping it irritably for a second. He withdrew it, spitting out a loose bit of tobacco. Satisfied, he inserted it again, began to scratch it alight with his fingertip. He moved a calibrated knob on the board three clicks. The lumbering monster outside revolved its head, the huge drilling plate it carried on its flattened and magnetized top moving also. "Like an old woman carrying a water urn on her head," he chuckled, puffing the cigarette. The robomech neared phosphorescent markings laid out on the ground, where the fibreglass base plate should be planted. Stress Rectifiers would be magno-clamped to the base plate, then would begin their search-position-drilling. He moved to press the release button that would cause the robomech to set its burden down lightly. Paul Jukovsky's teeth suddenly began to ache with terrible intensity. He clutched at his face wildly, burning the palm of his hand on the cigarette. A strangled sob began to form, ended in a gurgling half-scream. His eyes rolled upwards and a trickle of blood emerged from the corner of his mouth. Stone-dead he fell across the control console, depressing all studs. The thirty ton robomech whirled twice and burst toward the edge of the jungle. It struck the boles of three huge intertwined trees with a resounding clang; the base plate bounced from its head and crashed, shattering, onto a projecting rock spear. The robot struggled for a moment more, driving into the jungle, knocking trees from its path in blind fury. The smell of cordite soaked through the clearing, and a wisp of smoke issued from the service box. An instant later its chambers fused their baffles and the robomech exploded with a terrifying burst of heat, impossible light, and the scream of ripping metal.