The pilot grunted. "Not likely." He peered intently at the barely
visible silhouette. "Well, I see you're getting smart. You should do
that all the time. You look better that way, even if they're not
usable arms. You look...." His voice faded away.
"Sure, almost human," Docchi finished for him. "Not like a pair of
legs and a spinal column with a lightning bug stuck on top."
"I didn't say that. So you're sensitive about it, eh? Maybe that's not
your fault. Anyway, you'd better get going."
"But I don't want to go," said Docchi deliberately. "I'm not afraid of
the dark. Are you?"
"Cut the psycho talk, Docchi. All your circuits are working and you
know it. Now get out of here before I take your fake hand and drag you
out."
"Now you've hurt my feelings," declared Docchi reproachfully, nimbly
stepping away.
"You asked for it," growled the pilot, lunging after him. What he took
hold of wasn't an imitation hand, made of plastic. It was flesh and
blood. That was why the pilot screamed, once, before he was lifted off
his feet and slammed to the floor.
Docchi bent double. The dark figure on his back came over his head
like a sword from a scabbard.
"Jor--"
"Yeah," said Jordan.
He wrapped one arm around the pilot's throat and clamped it tight.
With the other he felt for the toaster the pilot still held.
Effortlessly he tore it away and used the butt with just enough force
to knock the pilot unconscious without smashing the skull. Docchi
stood by until it was over. All he could offer was an ineffectual
kick, not balanced by arms.
It wasn't needed.
"Let there be light," ordered Jordan, laughing, and there was, a
feeble, flickering illumination from Docchi.
Jordan was balancing himself on his hands. A strong head, massive,
powerful arms and shoulders. His body ended at his chest. A round
metal capsule contained his digestive system.
"Dead?" Docchi looked down at the pilot.
Jordan rocked forward and listened for the heartbeat. "Nah," he said.
"I remembered in time that we can't afford to kill anyone."
"Good," said Docchi, and stifled an exclamation as something coiled
around his leg. His reactions were fast; he broke loose almost
instantly.
"Repair robot," said Jordan, looking around. "The place is lousy with
them."
Docchi blinked on and off involuntarily and the robot came toward him.
"Friendly creature," observed Jordan. "He's offering to fix your
lighting system for you."
Docchi ignored the squat contrivance and stared at the pilot. "Now
what?" he asked.
"Agreed," said Jordan. "He needs attention. _Not_ the kind I gave
him." He balanced the toaster in his hand and burned a small hole in
the little wheeled monster. Tentacles emerged from the side of the
machine and felt puzzledly at the damaged area. The tentacles were
withdrawn and presently reappeared with a small torch and began
welding.
Jordan pulled the unconscious pilot toward him. He leaned against the
machine, raised the inert form over his head and laid it gently on the
top flat surface. Another tentacle reached out to investigate the body
of the pilot. Jordan welded the joints solid with the toaster. Three
times he repeated the process until the pilot was fastened to the
robot.
"The thing will stay here, repairing itself, until it's completely
sound again," remarked Jordan. "However, that can be fixed." He
adjusted the toaster beam to an imperceptible thickness. Deftly he
sliced through the control case and removed a circular section. He
reached inside and ripped out circuits. "No further self-repair," he
said cheerfully. "Now I'm going to need your help. From a time
stand-point, I think it's a good idea to run the robot around the
main dome a few times before it delivers the pilot to the hospital. No
point in giving ourselves away before we're ready."
Docchi bent over the robot, and with his help the proper sequence was
implanted. The machine scurried erratically away.
Docchi watched it go. "Time for us to be on our way." He bent double
for Jordan. The arms folded around his neck, but Jordan made no effort
to climb up onto his back. For a panic moment Docchi knew how the
pilot felt when strength, where there shouldn't have been strength,
reached out from the darkness and gripped his throat.
He shook the thought from his mind. "Get on my back," he insisted.
[Illustration]
"You're tired," said Jordan. "Half gravity or not, you can't carry me
any farther." His fingers worked swiftly and the carrying harness fell
to the floor. "Stay down," growled Jordan. "Listen."