When the robot finally answered, it wasn't encouraging. "I'm sorry.
There is no answer."
"Then trace him," he snapped. "If he's not in the rocket dome, he's in
the main dome. I want you to get him at once."
A few seconds of silence followed. "There is no record of the pilot
leaving the rocket dome."
His heart skipped; with an effort he spoke carefully. "Scan the whole
area. Understand? You've got to find him."
"Scanning is not possible. The system is out of operation in that
area."
"All right," he said, starting to shake. "Send out repair robots."
They were efficient in the sense they always did the work they were
set to do, but not in terms of speed.
"The robots were dispatched as soon as scanning failed to work. Are
there any other instructions?"
He thought about that. He needed help, plenty of it. Vogel? He'd be
ready and willing, but that would leave the gravity-generating setup
unprotected. Better do without him.
Who else? The sour old nurse who'd signed up because she wanted quick
credits toward retirement? Or the sweet young thing who had bravely
volunteered because someone ought to help those poor unfortunate men?
Not the women, of course. She had a bad habit of fainting when she saw
blood. Probably that was why she couldn't get a position in a regular
planetary hospital.
That was all, except the robots, who weren't much help in a case like
this. That and the rocket pilot. For some reason he wasn't available.
The damned place was under-manned. Always had been. Nobody wanted to
come except the mildly psychotic, the inefficient and lazy, or,
conceivably, an ambitious young doctor like himself. Mentally, Cameron
berated the last category. If anything serious happened here, such a
doctor might end his career bandaging scratches at a children's
playground.
"Instructions," he said. "Yes. Leave word in gravity-generating for
Vogel. Tell him to throw everything he's got around the units. Watch
them."
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. Send six general purpose robots. I'll pick them up at the
entrance to the rocket dome."
"Repair robots are already in that area. Will they do as well?"
"They will not. I want geepees for another reason." They wouldn't be
much help, true, but the best he could manage.
* * * * *
Docchi waited near the rocket dome. Not hiding, merely inconspicuous
among the carefully nurtured shrubbery that was supposed to give the
illusion of Earth. If the plants failed in that respect, at least they
contributed to the oxygen supply of the asteroid.
"Good girl," said Docchi. "That Nona is wonderful."
Jordan could feel him relax. "A regular mechanical marvel," he agreed.
"But we can gas about that later. Let's get going."
Docchi glanced around and then walked boldly into the passageway that
connected the main dome with the much smaller, adjacent rocket dome.
Normally, it was never dark in the inhabited parts of the asteroid; a
modulated twilight was considered more conducive to the slumber of the
handicapped. But it wasn't twilight as they neared the rocket dome--it
was a full-scale rehearsal for the darkness of interplanetary space.
Docchi stopped before the emergency airlock which loomed solidly in
front of them. "I hope Nona was able to cut this out of the circuit,"
he said anxiously.
"She understood, didn't she?" asked Jordan. He reached out and the
great slab moved easily aside in its grooves. "The trouble with you is
that you lack confidence."
Docchi, listening with a frown, didn't answer.
"Okay, I hear it, too," whispered Jordan. "We'd better get well inside
before he reaches us."
Docchi walked rapidly into the darkness of the rocket dome. He allowed
his face to become faintly luminescent, the one part of his altered
metabolism that he had learned to control, when he wasn't under
emotional strain.
He was nervous now, but his control had to be right. Enough light so
that he'd be noticed, not so much that details of his appearance would
be plain.
The footsteps came nearer, accompanied by a steady volume of
profanity. Docchi flashed his face once and then lowered the intensity
almost immediately.