"Vogel, the engineer. He must have seen the geepees on scanning when
they entered the main dome. He's trying to do what Cameron should have
thought of but didn't have sense."
Jordan went away and the passenger ramp rose with ponderous slowness,
clamping shut with metallic finality. As soon as he saw there was no
danger there Docchi hurried to the control compartment.
"Now we can't see what to do," complained Jordan.
"Maybe," said Docchi. "Try to get something on the telecom."
From the angle it was difficult to see anything. The receptor tubes
were close to the hull, and the ship curved backward, filling most of
the screen. By rotating the view they managed to pick up a corner of
the tank. Apparently it was resting where Docchi had last seen it. He
couldn't be sure but he thought it hadn't been moved.
"I don't know whether we can bring it in," said Jordan nervously.
"Maybe we should leave it. We'll make out by ourselves."
"Leave without the tank? Not a chance. Vogel hasn't got complete
control of the robots yet." It seemed to be true. They were huddled
away from the ship, looking alternately at the rocket and the tank,
nearly motionless, paralyzed.
"Yeah, but he'll have them soon. Look at them."
"I am, which is why I think he's having trouble. Give me full power on
the emergency radio."
"What good will it do? He's got priority."
"He's got it, but can he push it through to them? It's my idea that he
can't, that he's at the wrong angle to put much power in his signal.
There's a lot of steel between him and the robots and that's weakening
his beam."
"Maybe you've got something," said Jordan. "I'll burn the emergency
stuff out. If it doesn't work we won't need it again anyway." He
flipped the dials until the lights above them were blazing fiercely.
"Energized geepees are requested to lend assistance. This is an
emergency. Place the tank in the ship. At once. At once."
Geepees were not designed to sift contradictory commands at nearly
the same level of urgency. Their reasoning ability was feeble but the
mechanism that enabled them to think at all was complicated. In one
respect they resembled humans: borderline decisions were difficult. A
ship in distress--an asteroid in danger. Both called for the robot to
destroy itself if necessary. It seemed as if that was all that would be
accomplished.
"More power," whispered Docchi.
"There ain't more," answered Jordan, but somehow he coaxed an extra
trickle out of the reserves.
Marionettes. But they were always that, puppets on invisible wires.
And now this string led toward one action. Another, intrinsically
more important but suddenly less powerful, pulled for something else.
Circuits burned in electronic brains. Microrays fluttered under the
stress. They didn't know. They just didn't know.
But there had to be a choice.
Stiffly the geepees moved in and grasped the tank. The quality of their
decision was strained. They were pushing themselves more than the tank
but inch by inch the huge twisted structure rolled up the ramp.
"When it's completely on, raise the ramp." Docchi wasn't aware that he
could hardly be heard.
The cargo ramp began to lift up. The tank gained speed as it rolled
forward into the ship. "Geepees, the job is finished. Save yourselves,"
shouted Docchi. He saw a swirl of metallic bodies as they leaped from
the ramp.
Jordan breathed deeply. "That did it. I don't think they can hurt us
now."
"It's not over. Get ship-to-station communication, if there's any radio
left."
"I'll be surprised if there is," muttered Jordan, but his skepticism
was without basis. The radio was still functioning. He made the
adjustments.
Docchi was matter of fact. "Vogel, we're going out. Don't try to stop
us. Give us clearance and save the dome some damage."
There was no reply.
"He's bluffing," said Jordan. "He knows the airlocks in the main dome
will close automatically if we break through."
"Sure," said Docchi. "Everyone in the main dome is safe--_if_ everyone
is in there. Vogel, do you know where Cameron is? Are you certain a
nurse or an accidental hasn't wandered in here to see what's wrong?
We'll give you time to think about it."
Again they waited and waited. Each second was tangible, the precious
duration that lives and events were measured with--and the measure was
exceedingly slow. Meanwhile Jordan flipped on the telecom and searched
the rocket dome. They saw nothing; there was not even a geepee in
sight. Docchi watched the screen impassively; what he thought didn't
show on his face.
And still there was no reply from the engineer in the gravity station.
"All right. We've given you a chance," said Docchi. His voice was
brittle. "You know what we're going to do. If anybody gets hurt you can
take the credit." He turned away from the screen. "Jordan, let's go.
Hit the shell with the bow."
Jordan grasped the levers. The ship hardly quivered as it tilted
upward and leaped away. It roared in the air and then fell silent as
it passed into space. And the silence was worse than any sound--it was
filled with the imagined hiss of air escaping from a great hole in the
transparent covering of the dome.