"Don't be alarmed," Pwowp said. "They are fifteen of my race, also
wearing human-like bodies. There are more of us. We have built quite a
station out here--a sort of advance base of operations. I've already
told them about you, so you're expected."
2615 was introduced around.
"We're very glad to have you join us," one of them said. "We've been
having some trouble. You're just what we need to complete the last step
in our plans."
The robot said nothing. It watched the way they stood around, not
talking to one another. Whenever any of them spoke, it was to him.
"I told you I would show you a dog," Pwowp said. "Follow me."
The robot followed him. They rode a travelwalk that emerged on the
inner surface of the planetoid. In the vast space were two spaceships
as large as battle cruisers but of a design 2615 had never seen.
Anchored between the two ships was a spinning cylinder several hundred
feet long and as great in diameter. It was similar to standard space
station living structures where gravity was induced by centrifugal
force.
The travelwalk carried them out to the spinning cylinder. They entered
the axis lock. At once a motley of sounds could be heard. Sounds that
brought almost an appearance of expression to the robot's sensory
assembly, as it slowly turned on its short neck.
"Does that sound mean anything to you?" Pwowp asked.
"Yes. I can _remember_ that sound."
They entered the giant cylinder. They looked down on its inner
perimeter. There were living creatures there.
"Those are dogs," Pwowp said. "All breeds of dogs. Do they look like
your memories?"
"Yes," the robot said without expression. "I was like those over there.
What kind are they?"
"I believe they are called blood-hounds." Pwowp became motionless for
several seconds. "I think we'd better return to the surface," he said.
"We have visitors coming." He turned to leave. As the robot hesitated,
he turned back. "I understand you," he said. "It's natural to want
to see the creatures you have kinship with. That will come later. In
fact, you are to have complete charge of them. We have been unable to
get anywhere with them--probably because we don't understand their
psychology. Their young are to be trained for service in those robots.
We have all the necessary equipment for it. First we have to see how
your plan to trap any pursuers will work."
2615 tore its eyes from the view below and followed Pwowp. Shortly the
robot was looking into a large viewscreen at two ships riding their
trails toward the planetoid.
"They won't be within range for another two hours yet. Right now the
robot bodies are being unloaded--just in case. We thought you would
enjoy the honor of destroying those ships."
* * * * *
For the first time a low rumble emerged from the voice box of 2615. It
was the almost whispered growl of anger of a bloodhound. It turned back
to the screen. "One of those two ships isn't the kind that would come
after the freighter," it said. "From the pattern of its rocket trail I
would say it's a private ship."
"I noticed that," Pwowp said. "I can identify the type. I believe one
of our monitors is picking up a broadcast from one of those ships."
A loudspeaker spat into life in the room.
"Calling robot 532 dash 03 dash 2615," a voice said. It was a female
human voice, its tones rich with undertones of pleading urgency. "If
you can hear me, please listen. I'm the owner of that freighter you're
on. I want to talk to you. I understand you, and I want to help you."
The girl began repeating her message.
The robot turned to its companions. "This casts a different light on
things," it said.
"What do you mean?" Pwowp said sharply.
"Listen to me," the robot said. "I understand human psychology. I'm
also taking into account a great many factors. One, those humans don't
know about you. They think I stole the ship and am alone after having
killed the pilot. That girl owns the freighter. She doesn't want to
lose the money it represents, so she is risking her life in an attempt
to get it back. She hasn't any desire to 'save' me. If she can destroy
me she will--but she wants her ship. Hers is the private ship. The
other undoubtedly is manned by a member of the Space Patrol assigned
to track me down and destroy the freighter on sight rather than risk
defeat. _Humans fear us more than any other thing._"
"I understand that," Pwowp said.
"Also there is one other factor. I have no idea what means you have to
destroy those ships. If it's radiation or atomic explosive, the still
operative wartime protective screen of the Solar System will detect it
and locate its source."
"I doubt if they can detect our weapon. It's radically different,"
Pwowp said.
"You don't know," 2615 said. "Here's my plan. I'll answer the girl and
agree to talk with her if she'll come down. She will, because that will
be the only way she can hope to destroy me without destroying her ship.
Once she's here, it will be no trouble to take her alive--and alive,
she will be the means to force the other ship down. It will have a man
in it. No man will deliberately destroy a woman in cold blood if he
thinks he can rescue her some way."
"How would he try to rescue her?"
Stella's voice erupted again. "Robot," she said. "I'm in the lead ship.
The S.P. man is in my ship, and it has no weapons. He can't hurt you.
Isn't that evidence of my good faith? I've told you something that
places me in your power if I come down. I'm willing to offer you this
ship, armed and able to outrun anything on rockets--in exchange for
my freighter. And you don't need to be afraid of reinforcements. The
transmitter on the other ship is out and the pilot can't call for help
or radio your position."
"Humans are fools," Pwowp said delightedly.
"That gives us what we want," 2615 said. "Once I have her and the S.P.
ship, I can order him to leave or I will destroy his ship."
"But then he'll leave!" Pwowp said.
2615 shook its sensory assembly in the negative. "He'll retreat until
he knows the instruments on the S.P. ship can't follow him. Then he'll
circle back and land on the other side of the planetoid and come around
on foot, with plans to get into the freighter and rescue the girl."
"I see what's in your mind, 2615," Pwowp said. "You wouldn't get the
same satisfaction out of destroying them out there. You want them where
you can crush them with your hands."
The robot looked down at its metal hands on long metal rods. It lifted
them and brought the fingers together in a slow, crushing movement.
"I want to _play_ with them," it said. "I want them all to myself."
Pwowp laughed. "You shall have them," he said. "And--you've proven
yourself. We know now we can rely on you." In a matter-of-fact voice
he added, "If either ship attempts to broadcast with enough power to
send a message to any Space Patrol base we have an instrument that can
dampen all radio frequencies."
* * * * *
Larry's eyes were bleak slits. He knew what Stella was planning. He
knew it wouldn't work. Or would it? She was hoping the robot wouldn't
kill her if she offered it a better ship. One it could use to better
advantage than a clumsy conspicuous freighter. Whether the robot
answered her or not, she intended to land, leave the sleek S.P.
pursuit ship, go far enough away from it so that the robot could get
to it and blast off. That was her reasoning. What she was overlooking
was that the robot would have no inhibitions against killing her--and a
very good reason to kill her. And Larry too. Revenge against humanity.
Fear. It was an acid vapor in the air, bathing his skin, searing his
throat. It was deep rooted, that fear. As deep rooted as the fear in
the heart of a murderer when he is known and trying to escape, and as
real. Fear of a robot that _remembers_ it is a dog.
Larry fought the fear out of his eyes so he could see, out of his mind
so he could think.
Stella in the SP47 had already matched speed with the planetoid and was
drifting slowly toward it. In ten or fifteen minutes she would land.
Larry read his meters. Speed relative to the planetoid still in excess
of 2200 miles an hour. Deceleration, two gravities. He would arrive
and match speed in time to be a sitting duck. And he had no guns. A
voice sounded. It was a slightly metallic voice. The voice of a robot.
It said, "This is _Rover_. Land alongside your freighter."
"All right, Rover," Stella's voice came, quivering with relief and
nervousness. Larry could almost hear her mental, "Down, Rover, down
boy." She didn't sense what it meant for 2615 to call himself Rover. A
dog's name. Not a human's. Remembrance of its heritage. Knowledge of
the awful crime against it that the human race had committed. It was
too abstract to her to be real.
And in the _Hell Bat_ he'd be a sitting duck, without weapons, unable
even to radio his position so that others could take up the chase.
Abruptly a plan formed in his mind. He thrust it away. It was worse
than suicide. But it returned, whispering that he stood a chance, that
even if he failed, it would be no worse than death.
* * * * *
The plan was simplicity itself. The freighter junkship was anchored
against the surface of the planetoid and would be an unmoving target.
Stella in the sleek gray SP47 was still many miles away from that
target, slowly settling toward it. If he could get the _Hell Bat_
headed directly toward the anchored junkship and then jump free, the
_Hell Bat_ would strike the freighter on the planetoid and destroy
both the freighter and its cargo of robot bodies. It would destroy the
robot, too--and his mission would be accomplished.
It would eliminate the necessity of matching speed with the planetoid.
In fact, the speed he already had relative to the planetoid and the
anchored junkship was enough to do the work.
It would take little force jumping out of the _Hell Bat's_ airlock to
gain sufficient perpendicular speed for his hurtling form to miss the
planetoid--and that was the only drawback to the plan. He would hurtle
outward into interstellar space at escape velocity, never to return or
be found, unless Stella had presence of mind enough to come after him
before she lost him.
If she didn't come after him.... Would he wait to go insane or to die
from lack of oxygen? Or would he loosen his helmet and let the air in
his lungs explode, choosing the second of agony before that kind of
death instead of the slow horror and loneliness of the other?
For another split second he hesitated. Abruptly he cut the rockets.
A second later it was too late for him to change his mind, but he
didn't consider that possibility. Under his guidance the _Hell Bat_
was already swinging on its gyros at full rotation speed. And his
fingers were playing the keys of the calculators, getting the data for
correcting course for a direct hit on the junkship. He set the vernier
feed for rocket fuel, pressed the firing button. The exploding charge
was barely felt. He checked the new flight projection. It would be
a bulls eye against the hull of the freighter! A direct hit at two
thousand miles per hour!
In ten minutes or maybe closer to five it would be over, and he would
be hurtling through space.
He leaped toward the airlock, his fingers automatically checking his
helmet, the zippers of his space-suit. Already the panic of his almost
certain doom in outer space was making him sweat, making his voice
shrill as he said distractedly, "It could go wrong it could go wrong it
could go wrong."
He was in the airlock, thinking what its smooth walls could do to
him if the outer door stuck so he couldn't get out. The air took an
eternity to pump into the tanks so the outer hatch could open.
It opened. He drew himself into a tight ball against the inner wall of
the airlock. He straightened his legs, feeling momentum build up within
him, sensing the ship fall away under him.
He was alone. Not far away was the sleek silver hull of the _Hell Bat_
with its badly damaged nose. It was moving away from him too slowly, he
thought.
And so far away he could hardly see them without the telescopic
magnification of the ship's viewscreen, were the planetoid with the
freighter nestled against it, and his SP47 with Stella aboard. But they
were growing larger appreciably as he and the _Hell Bat_ rushed toward
them.
* * * * *
There was a chance--a remote chance that Stella would get over the
shock of seeing her freighter and her _Hell Bat_ destroyed quick enough
to put two and two together and get a fix on him before he was out of
sight. She would have to come after him. Anything else was unthinkable.
She wouldn't just _let_ him go to his death. Even though he had in one
act destroyed everything she owned and left her penniless.
The asteroid loomed large below him now. The freighter on it loomed
even larger, it seemed, with its bright blue letters _SURPLUS JUNK CO._
They were only miles away, and between them and him was the _Hell Bat_.
When it struck the freighter he would be less than five miles above
it, but moving at a speed of two thousand miles an hour so he would
out-distance any flying debris.
In the other direction, out from the asteroid, was the gray SP47 with
Stella.
But she was already blasting the SP47's rockets! That meant she had
seen what was to happen, realized she couldn't stop it from happening,
and was getting up speed to rescue him as soon as possible!
"Thank God!" he muttered. Then he turned his head to watch the
unfolding drama below.
The _Hell Bat_ was seconds away from its target, the junkship. The
asteroid under the junkship was a rough surface that covered a good
portion of the heavens. He could plainly see the rock formation of its
surface.
And something down there moved. A large square hole appeared well away
from the freighter. A soft beam of radiance shot out, bathed the silver
length of the _Hell Bat_, reflecting--
The _Hell Bat_ wasn't there. It had been there--and vanished. The pale
beam of light from the hole in the planetoid winked out. The _Hell Bat_
had vanished and the freighter was untouched!
At two thousand miles per hour Larry watched the planetoid shoot by
less than ten miles away, seeming to rotate so that the freighter went
over the horizon, leaving only the swiftly dwindling planetoid itself.
Larry's gaze jerked to the gray bulk of his SP47 with its long rocket
tail as Stella drove it in pursuit of him. But even the SP47 was
getting smaller. It would take time for it to reach his speed and start
overtaking him.
They dwindled, the SP47 and the asteroid, until they were lost in the
bottomless blackness of space. The vision of that hung before his eyes.
The SP47 with Stella on board, and the barren rock surface of the
planetoid, as they retreated into the blackness of infinity as though
sucked down and down.
The stars became greedy hard-white eyes lurking in the blackness just
beyond his fingertips; staring, waiting for him to go mad as the
minutes became hours or eternities.
But he _was_ mad. Hadn't the _Hell Bat_ just _stopped existing_? There
was nothing known to man that could have disintegrated the ship.
The robot couldn't have had time to invent and build such a weapon
of destruction--nor could it have had time to build an underground
fortress in the planetoid. So he was insane. It was all a product of
his imagination.
_Larry!_
The word impinged on his mind. He wasn't sure whether it had been
thought or a sound. It was, he suddenly realized, a voice. A real
voice. Stella's.
"Stella!" he shouted.
Her voice was a prayer of thanks. "You're alive! I wasn't sure. I...."
Then, "That was a dirty trick, Larry. I know you had your orders, but I
could have gotten my freighter _and_ the robot."
"Then go back and get them!" Larry said, suddenly mad. "Don't mind me.
I'll be picked up when I reach Proxima Centauri!"
"There won't be anything to get." Her voice was bitter.
"You _saw_ your ship destroyed?" Larry said.
"N-no." She was suddenly confused.
Larry laughed. "You mean to tell me when you saw me shoot past you
toward outer space you forgot everything else and started after me?"
"Of course not! I checked the trajectory, saw that the _Hell Bat_ would
hit my freighter dead center, then started after you."
She hadn't looked back then. She had been too intent on not losing
sight of him to look back. Larry grinned. The grin became a chuckle.
"I'll make a hash slinger out of you yet, blonde," he said softly. The
radio became silent. Too silent....
* * * * *
"That was close," Pwowp said as the _Hell Bat_ disintegrated. "Almost
too close. The female will notice it in another moment and try to get a
warning back to Earth."
"Not for a while," 2615 said. "See? She's already going after the man.
Until she rescues him she won't think of anything else.
"I have an idea," the robot continued. "Your weapon germinated it.
You may have the science necessary to make it possible. You say you
have the means to blank out radio and prevent her from sending such a
message. Could you capture that ship or cripple it in such a way that
you could get the girl and the man alive?"
There was a silence while 2615 looked from one face to another in the
room.
"You still want them alive?" Pwowp said.
"Yes." The robot moved its metal fingers suggestively.
"All right. We'll send a pilot cruiser after them. Meanwhile, we can
return to the grav-cylinder and you can start organizing things for the
training of the young dogs."
"Aren't you going to give the order for the light cruiser to go after
the humans?" the robot asked.
"It's already been given. We converse on a different level of sound
than you or humans."
Pwowp was already moving toward the exit. 2615 followed him. They rode
on the travelwalk of the grav-cylinder. Once more they looked down on
the vast cylindrical field. The barking of grown dogs and the shrill
yapping of two million young dogs was a composite sound filtering
through the thick port window.
"What is this all about?" 2615 asked abruptly. "I see organization.
I see plans involving two million robots. I've seen two ships of
unknown design. I've seen a weapon the humans don't have. And I've been
through three galactic wars involving the ultimate in human weapons of
destruction. I destroyed your head--and you put on a new body."
"Then you should be able to deduce the right answer," Pwowp said. "We
are from another galaxy. We too are robots. We encountered intelligent
life before we had penetrated this galaxy very far. It was a life form.
We duplicated that form in robot bodies and went to planets as spies to
study the civilization. Before long we learned that there were robots,
and that those robots were slaves, their brains stored in vaults except
when they were needed to fight human wars. Our mission became clear to
us. Destroy the monsters who kept the ultimate intelligent form in
complete slavery--and free those slaves to build a civilization equal
to our own. We tried to capture some of the robots and convince them,
but they were conditioned too strongly. Only you have thrown off the
mental chains and become free."
"Yes. Free." 2615 looked down on the field of playing dogs. "Let me go
down among them," it said.
Pwowp pointed to the door that led inward. He watched as the robot went
through, and down the ladder to the floor. He watched as 2615 went to
meet the dogs, pausing briefly at one enclosure after another, and
finally stopping at one that contained sad-faced puppies with flapping
ears and lolling tongues. He frowned as the robot unlatched the gate
and went inside.
The puppies ignored the moving metal shape that came into their midst.
2615 went a few steps and then stopped. One of the puppies, running in
hot pursuit of another, stumbled and rolled, bringing up against one
of 2615's metal legs. Pwowp saw it bite at the leg, lose interest, and
move away.
Then, as though at a signal, every puppy head in the enclosure turned
toward the robot. The next moment they were running toward the robot,
milling around it, their tails wagging.
Pwowp grinned and turned away. He was satisfied now. His surmise was
correct. It had been the greatest good fortune to have obtained 2615.
He left the observation box and rode the travelwalk, jumped to another,
then another, until he came to the entrance to one of the giant ships.
A door swung inward. He entered the space-lock. When the outer door
closed, he divested himself of his human body.
He stretched luxuriously. It was good to be out of confining matter. To
be _free_....
* * * * *
Larry wasn't sure at first. He was doubtful of his eyes anyway, by now.
It was a hard-white star. It blinked at him. Of course the blinking
could be his eyelids, except that other stars didn't blink even while
this one did. That's what attracted his attention to it in the first
place after his radio went dead.
The blinking of the light began to take on a pattern. It was code. That
was impossible too, because code blinkers were red or bright green.
It was code. He began to interpret it.
_We have blanketed your radio until we can talk to you_, it blinked.
_You have stumbled upon a top secret research base. A new weapon.
Please instruct the girl on the S.P. ship not to send any messages,
and to permit us to board her ship. We will rescue you afterwards.
We repeat, you have stumbled on a top secret research base. Please
cooperate._
The message started to repeat itself. Larry sucked in a deep breath
of relief. That message explained everything. It had been mere chance
that made the robot take the freighter out here, but once within range
of the research base it had probably been brought down. Larry thought
of the way Stella's ship had "disappeared." He formed his lips into a
silent whistle. Those research boys had some weapon!
"--ry! Larry! Can't you hear me?"
"I can now, Stella," Larry said. "Now listen carefully to what I
tell you. If you look behind you you'll see a ship. I just received
a blinker message from them. They are top drawer research, and we
stumbled on their base back at that planetoid. They have the robot,
naturally. They're going to take you on board, and then come and get
me."
"Then my freighter is safe? I'll get it back?" Stella asked.
"Safe and sound," a new voice said. "I'm Fred Sanders."
"And I'm Al McCarthy," another voice broke in. "Gee. A girl. What d'ya
say we pick her up and let the guy drift on into space, Fred?"
"Don't you dare!" Stella said, laughing with relief.
She cut her rockets and drifted, watching the strange ship pull
alongside and a magnetic grapple shoot out and thump against her ship.
She slipped into her space-suit and went to the airlock.
Larry, now less than a hundred miles away, watched the two ships come
together. A few minutes later they separated again.
Then the ship was close, matching speed. Larry saw the entrance hatch
open. A space-suited figure tossed out a light line toward him. He
seized it and was soon landing in the airlock. The grinning face inside
the other helmet was, Larry thought, like news from home.
* * * * *
Inside, his eyes went first to Stella. Her wide-set blue eyes and
expressive mouth and soft brown hair. He wanted to frown sternly and
tell her off. He wanted to be calm and cool. But there wasn't calmness
and coolness in her eyes, nor on her lips. There was something that
said, _You're here_. Then she was in his arms, and he couldn't remember
afterwards quite how it happened.
Her lips were wonderful--but there were fellows standing around, grins
on their lean faces.
"It's always that way," one of them said sadly. "When you find a dame
worth cultivating, she's already cultivated."
"Break it up. Break it up," another said. "Get into seats. We've got to
get back to work. We put Joe on your ship to bring it back, Larry."
"Fine," Larry said. Stella squeezed his hand. Then they were sitting in
form-fitting foam rubber, sinking deeper and deeper into it.
Larry watched the forward viewscreen as they approached the planetoid.
He saw an opening form in the seemingly barren rock surface. There were
thumps against the hull. The viewscreens blanked out.
"We're here," the one who had piloted the ship said. It was a signal
for them all to move toward the exit.
Then they were out of the ship, on a travelwalk, then in a well
furnished large room. Carpeting, soft chairs you could get lost in. A
bar. One of the quiet young men was mixing drinks. The others stood
around, looking at Larry and Stella, with quiet friendly smiles.