Chapter II: Part 2

But that was not the only way. The tube extended forward as well as back. The inner end of the tube was closed with a combustion chamber which was singed and would swing away. The ship hadn't been used for months and there was a distinct possibility that the tubes _were_ open at the other end. He might get through.

He stopped to catch his breath. The metal conducted sound well, almost magnifying it. In the interval, over his own breathing, he heard the characteristic sputter, like frying, that the toaster beam made when it struck metal. A great clatter followed.

"Get him," shouted Cameron. "He's up there."

Jordan had arrived and succeeded in disabling a geepee. And Cameron would find out that he wasn't easily captured. The diversion came when Docchi needed it.

"Don't use heat," ordered Cameron. "Get lights on him. Drive him up higher. Corner him and go up and get him."

Docchi had been wrong; the geepees were voice controlled, not by radio. It would make it easier once he got inside. If he ever did get in the ship. But he had to hurry. Jordan couldn't elude the robots forever.

Docchi shoved on less cautiously. The robot in the pit had joined the others and he needn't fear detection. It became harder to advance, though. He had expected it but he didn't know it would be this hard to push through the narrowing tube.

His legs slipped and it didn't matter, somehow he inched along. Blood pounded furiously but his head slid out of the end of the tube--and he was looking at the inside of the ship.

He gazed longingly at the combustion cap a few feet away. If he had hands he could grasp it and pull himself out. But if he had, he'd never have gotten this far. He closed his eyes to rest for a moment and then continued wriggling, his back arching with the effort. He was nearly through now, only his legs were in the tube. He kicked once, hard, and fell to the floor.

He lay there until his head cleared and his breath came back. He rolled over, bent his knees, and stood up, staggering forward through the corridor to the control compartment. The rocket was his but he didn't want it for himself, and by himself he couldn't use it.

He studied the instrument panel carefully. It had been a long time since he'd operated a ship. A long time and two arms ago. When he thought he understood he bent down and thrust his chin against a dial. Laboriously he rotated his head, turning the dial to the setting he wanted. Then he sat down and kicked on a switch. The ship rocked--and rose a few inches.

He was betting that Cameron wouldn't notice it. The doctor ought to be too busy trying to capture Jordan. But if Cameron did see what was happening, he had thirty seconds in which to stop Docchi. It wasn't enough. Things looked good for their plan.

"Rocket landing," said Docchi when the allotted thirty seconds had passed. "Emergency instructions. Repeat, emergency instructions. Stand by." Technically the ship was in flight, though by very little, and the frequency he was using was assurance that the message would be heard, and heeded.

"All energized geepees lend assistance. This order supersedes any previous command. Additional equipment is necessary to prepare for a possible crash landing." After listing what equipment was needed Docchi sat down and chuckled.

He waited for another few minutes and then flicked on the external lights with his knee. He got up and went to the passenger entrance, brushing against the switch on the way. The passenger ramp swung down and he stood boldly at the entrance, looking out. The whole rocket dome was floodlighted by the ship, beams and columns standing out in sharp detail. It was an impressive structure now, even beautiful, though he remembered hating it once, coming in.

"All right, Jordan, it's safe to come down," he called.

Jordan dangled overhead. He swung along until he reached a column and slid down. Awkwardly he propelled himself across the floor and up the ramp. Balancing himself with his hands he looked up at Docchi.

"Well, monster," he grinned. "How did you do it?"

"Monster yourself," said Docchi. "I crawled through the rocket tube."

"I saw you start in," said Jordan. "I wasn't sure you'd make it. Even when the ship rose I wasn't certain until you came out." Jordan scratched his cheek. "What I meant was: how did you get rid of Cameron?"

"Doctors usually aren't mechanically inclined," said Docchi. "Cameron was no exception. He forgot an emergency rocket landing cancels any verbal orders. So I took the ship up a few inches. Geepees aren't very bright and it wouldn't matter if they were. As long as the ship was in the air and I said I was coming in for a landing they had to obey."

Jordan nodded delightedly. "Poor doc," he said. "It wasn't that he was dumb. There was nothing he could do when you outsmarted him."

"He should have anticipated it," said Docchi. "He could have splashed heat against a gravity generator. This would have created an emergency condition in the main dome, artificial of course, but it would have outweighed the one I set up. He'd have had priority, not me, and he could have directed the robots from gravity center."

"_I_ wouldn't have thought of it," said Jordan. "Anyway, how did you get the robots to rush off, carrying Cameron with them?"

"I didn't have to do anything. As long as the pilot of the incoming ship declares he may crash, the geepees must remove all humans from the danger zone, willing or not. They'd have taken you too if they could have reached you but they had to abandon that idea when I ordered crash equipment."

"Glad they did," said Jordan. "Wouldn't want to hear what Cameron's saying. Besides it's safer inside the ship." He swung himself in, touching the hull fondly, peering down the corridor with grave wonder. "It's ours now," he said. "But what about the others? How do we get them?"

"Anti's taken care of. Geepees aren't built to question anything and in their mind she's listed as emergency landing material. They'll bring her. And Nona is supposed to be waiting with Anti." Docchi's face showed misgiving. "I think we made it clear she was supposed to stay there."

"What if she didn't understand?"

"I'm sure she did," said Docchi. "It wasn't complicated. Meanwhile you'd better get ready to lift ship."

Jordan disappeared, heading toward the control compartment. Docchi stationed himself at the passenger lock. He had said the instructions weren't hard to understand, and they weren't--for anyone else. But to Nona the world was upside down; the simplest things often she didn't comprehend--and the reverse was true. He hoped she hadn't got mixed up.

He had little time to dwell on it. The geepees were coming back. He heard them first and saw them seconds later. They came into sight half carrying, half pushing a huge rectangular tank. With ingenuity that was unexpected in robots they had mounted it on four of their smaller brethren, the squat repair robots. This served to support the tremendous weight.

The tank was filled with blue liquid. Twisted pipes dangled from the ends--it had been torn from the pit in the ground, lifted up from the foundation. Broken plants still clung to a narrow ledge on top and moist soil adhered to the sides. Wracked out of shape and askew, the tank was intact and did not leak. Five geepees pushed it rapidly toward the ship, mechanically oblivious to the disheveled man who shouted and struck at them, incoherent with frustrated rage.

"Jordan, open the freight lock."

In response the ship rose a few more inches and hung quivering. To the rear a section of the ship hinged outward and downward to form a ramp. The ship was ready and the cargo had arrived.

Docchi remained at the passenger entrance. Cameron was an idiot. He should have stayed in the main dome once the geepees had released him. His presence was unwelcome, more than he may have realized. Still, they'd gotten rid of him once and it ought to work again.

It was Nona who worried Docchi. She hadn't accompanied the robots and she wasn't to be seen. It didn't look as if Cameron had found her there and managed to confine her to the hospital. It had happened too fast; the doctor was lucky to have kept up with the geepees. Docchi started uncertainly down the ramp and came back. She wasn't around, he could see that, and it was too late to go back to the main dome.

The tank neared the ship, the forward section sliding onto the ramp. The motion slowed as the geepees' effort slackened. Then the robots stopped altogether, straightening up in bewilderment.

The tank rolled backward. The geepees got out of the way, shaking and buzzing, looking questioningly around. Simultaneously, it seemed, they saw Docchi. Their intentions were obvious but he forestalled them, leaping back in the ship. "Close the passenger entrance," he shouted.

Jordan appeared at the far end of the corridor. "Sure. What's wrong?"

"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.

Jordan sat at the controls. "Did he?"

"He had to. He wouldn't risk killing some innocent person."

"I don't know," said Jordan. "If you'd said he wouldn't want his pretty machinery banged up it would be easier to believe."

"I didn't hear anything. We would have if we'd hit."

"It was fast. Could we tell? Maybe Vogel played it safe and had the inner shell out of the way even if he didn't give us the automatic signal. In that event it's all right because it would close as soon as we got out of the way even if we did rip through the outer shell. All the air wouldn't escape." Jordan sat there for a moment, silently reviewing his own arguments.

He twisted the lever and the ship leaped forward. "Cameron I don't mind. He had time to get away and he knew what we were going to do. I keep thinking Nona _might_ have been there."

"He opened it," said Docchi harshly. "We didn't hit the dome. I didn't hear anything. Nona wasn't there." His face was gray, there was no light at all in it. "Come on," he said, walking away.

Jordan rocked back and forth. The hemisphere that held what remained of his body was suited for it. He set the auto-controls and reduced the gravity to quarter normal. He bent his arms and shoved himself into the air, deftly catching a guide rail, swinging along it.

It was pure chance that he glanced toward the back of the ship instead of forward as he entered the corridor after Docchi. There was a light blinking at a cabin door.

It was occupied.

4

Jordan caught up before Docchi reached the cargo hold. In lesser gravity he was more active and could move freely. Now his handicap was almost unnoticeable, seemed to have disappeared. The same was not true of Docchi. It required less effort to walk but there was also a profound unsettling effect that made him cautious and uncertain.

Docchi heard him coming and waited, bracing himself against the wall in case the gravity should momentarily change. Jordan still carried the weapon he'd taken from the pilot. It was clipped to the sacklike garment, dangling from his midsection which, for him, was just below his shoulders. Down the passageway he came, swinging from the guide rails with easy grace though the gravity on the ship was as erratic as on the asteroid.

Jordan halted, hanging on with one hand. "We have a passenger. Someone we didn't know about."

Docchi stiffened. "Who?" he asked. But the answer was already on Jordan's face. "Nona," he said in relief. He slumped forward. "How did she get on?"

"A good question," said Jordan. "But there isn't any answer and never will be. It's my guess that after she jammed the lights and scanners in the rocket dome she went to the ship and it looked inviting. So she went in. She wouldn't let a little thing like a lock that couldn't be opened stop her."

"It's a good guess," agreed Docchi. "She's exceedingly curious."

"We may as well make the picture complete. Once in the ship she felt tired. She found a comfortable cabin and fell asleep. She can't hear anything so our little skirmish with the geepees didn't bother her."

"I can't argue with you. It'll do until a better explanation comes along."

"But I wish she'd waited a few minutes to take her nap. She'd have saved us a lot of trouble. She didn't know you'd be able to crawl through the tubes--and neither did you until you'd actually done it."

"What do you want?" said Docchi. "She did more than we did. We depend too much on her. Next thing we'll expect her to escort us personally to the stars."

"I wasn't criticizing her," protested Jordan.

"Maybe not. You've got to remember her mind works differently. It never occurred to her that we'd have difficulty with something that was so simple to her. At the same time she's completely unable to grasp our concepts." He straightened up. "We'd better get going if we don't want Anti to start yelling."

The cargo hold was sizable. It had to be to hold the tank, which was now quite battered and twisted. But the tank was sturdily built and looked as if it would hold together for ages to come. There was some doubt as to whether the ship would. The wall opposite the ramp was badly bent where the tank had plowed into it and the storage racks were demolished. Odds and ends of equipment lay in scattered heaps on the floor.

"Anti," called Docchi.

"Here."

"Are you hurt?"

"Never felt a thing," came the cheerful reply. It was not surprising; her surplus flesh was adequate protection against deceleration.

Jordan began to scale the side of the tank, reaching the top and peering over. "She seems to be all right," he called down. "Part of the acid's gone. Otherwise there's no damage."

"Of course not," replied Anti. "What did I say?"

It was perhaps more serious than she realized. She might personally dislike it, but acid was necessary to her life. And some of it had been splashed from the tank. Where it had spilled metal was corroding rapidly. By itself this was no cause for alarm. The ship was built for a multitude of strange environments and the scavenging system would handle acid as readily as water, neutralizing it and disposing of it where it would do no harm. But the supply had to be conserved. There was no more.

"What are you waiting for?" Anti rumbled with impatience. "Get me out of here. I've stewed in this disgusting soup long enough."

"We were thinking how we could get you out. We'll figure out a way."

"You let me do the thinking. You just get busy. After you left I decided there must be some way to live outside the tank and of course when I bent my mind to it there was a way. After all, who knows more about my condition than me?"

"You're the expert. Tell us what to do."

"Oh I will. All I need from you is no gravity and I'll take care of the rest. I've got muscles, more than you think. I can walk as long as my bones don't break from the weight."

Light gravity was bad, none at all was worse for Docchi. Having no arms he'd be helpless. The prospect of floating free without being able to grasp anything was terrifying. He forced down his fear. Anti had to have it and so he could get used to null gravity.

"We'll get around to it," he promised. "Before we do we'll have to drain and store the acid."

"I don't care what you do with it," said Anti. "All I know is that I don't want to be in it."

Jordan was already working. He swung off the tank and was busy expelling water from an auxiliary compartment into space. As soon as the compartment was empty he led a hose from it to the tank. A pump vibrated and the acid level in the tank began to fall.

Docchi felt the ship lurch familiarly. The ship was older than he thought, the gravity generator more out of date. "Hurry," he called to Jordan.

In time they'd cut it off. But if gravity went out before they were ready they were in for rough moments. Free floating globes of highly corrosive acid, scattered throughout the ship by air currents, could be as destructive as high velocity meteor clusters.

Jordan tinkered with the pump and then jammed the lever as far as it would go, holding it there. "I think we'll make it," he said above the screech of the pump. The machinery gasped, but it won. The throbbing broke into a vacant clatter that betokened the tank was empty. Jordan had the hose rolled away before the gravity generator let the feeling of weight trickle off into nothingness.

As soon as she was weightless Anti rose out of the tank.

In all the time Docchi had known her he had seen no more than a face framed in blue acid. Where it was necessary periodic surgery had trimmed the flesh away. For the rest, she lived submerged in a corrosive fluid that destroyed the wild tissue as fast as it grew. Anyway, nearly as fast.

"Well, junkman, look at a real freak," snapped Anti.

He had anticipated--and he was wrong in what he thought. It was true humans weren't meant to grow so large, but Jupiter wasn't repulsive merely because it was the bulging giant of planets. It was unbelievable and overwhelming when seen close up but it was not obscene. It took getting used to but he could stand the sight of Anti.

"How long can you live out of the acid?" he stammered.

"Can't live out of it," said Anti loftily. "So I take it with me. If you weren't as unobservant as most men you'd see how I do it."

"It's a robe of some kind," said Docchi carefully after studying it.

"Exactly. A surgical robe, the only thing I have to my name. Maybe it's the only garment in the solar system that will fit me. Anyway, if you've really examined it you'll notice it's made of a spongelike substance. It holds enough acid to last at least thirty-six hours."

She grasped a rail and propelled herself toward the passageway. For most people it was spacious enough but not for Anti. However she could squeeze through. And satellites, one glowing and the other swinging in an eccentric orbit, followed after the Jupiter of humans.

* * * * *

Nona was standing in front of the instrument panel when they came back. It was more or less like all panels built since designers first got the hang of what could really be done with seemingly simple components. There was a bewildering array of lights, levers, dials, and indicators in front of her but Nona was interested in none of these. There was a single small switch and dial, separate from the rest, that held her complete attention. She seemed disturbed by what she saw or failed to see. Disturbed or excited, it was difficult to guess which.

Anti stopped. "Look at her. If I didn't know she's as bad as the rest of us, in fact the only one who was born that way, it would be easy to hate her. She's disgustingly normal."

There was truth in what Anti said--and yet there wasn't. Surgical techniques that could take bodies apart and put them together with a skill once reserved for machines had made beauty commonplace. There were no more sagging muscles, discolored skin, or wrinkles. Even the aged were attractive and youthful seeming until the day they died, and the day after too. There were no more ill-formed limbs, misshapen bodies, unsightly hair. Everyone was handsome or beautiful. No exceptions.

The accidentals didn't belong, of course. In another day most of them would have been employed by a circus--if they had first escaped the formaldehyde of the specimen bottle.

And Nona didn't belong--doubly. She couldn't be called normal, and she wasn't a repair job as the other accidentals were. Looked at closely she was an original as far from the average in one direction as Anti was in the other.

"What's she staring at?" asked Anti as the others slipped past her into the compartment. "Is there something wrong with the little dial?"

"That dial has a curious history," said Docchi. "It's not useless, it just isn't used. Actually it's an indicator for the gravity drive which at one time was considered fairly promising. It hasn't been removed because it might come in handy during an extreme emergency."

"But all that extra weight----"

"There's no weight, Anti. The gravity drive is run from the same generator that supplies passenger gravity. It's very interesting that Nona should spot it at once. I'm certain she's never been in a control room before and yet she went straight to it. She may even have some inkling of what it's for."

Anti dismissed the intellectual feat. "Well, why are you waiting here? You know she can't hear us. Go stand in front of her."

"How do I get there?" Docchi had risen a few inches now that Jordan had released his grip. He was free floating and helpless, sort of a plankton of space.

"A good engineer would have sense to put on magnetics. Nona did." Anti grasped his jacket. How she was able to move was uncertain. The tissues that surrounded the woman were too vast to permit the perception of individual motions. Nevertheless she proceeded to the center of the compartment and with her came Docchi.

Nona turned before they reached her. "My poor boy," sighed Anti. "If you're trying to conceal your emotions, that's a very bad job. Anyway, stop glowing like a rainbow and say something."

It was one time Anti missed. He almost _did_ feel that way and maybe if she weren't so competent in his own specialty he might have. It was irritating to study and work for so many years as he had--and then to be completely outclassed by someone who did neither, to whom certain kinds of knowledge came so easily it seemed to be inborn. She was attractive but for him something was missing. "Hello," he said lamely.

Nona smiled at him though it was Anti she went to.

"No, not too close, child. Don't touch the surgery robe unless you want your pretty face to peel off when you're not looking."

Nona stopped; she was close but she may as well have been miles away. She said nothing.

Anti shook her head hopelessly. "I wish she'd learn to read lips or at least recognize words. What can you say to her?"

"She knows facial expressions and actions, I think," said Docchi. "She's pretty good at emotions too. She falls down when it comes to words. I don't think she knows there is such a thing."

"Then how does she think?" asked Anti, and answered her own question. "Maybe she doesn't."

"Let's not be as dogmatic as psychologists have been. We know she does. What concepts she uses is uncertain. Not verbal, nor mathematical anyway--she's been tested for that." He frowned puzzledly. "I don't know what concepts she uses in thinking. I wish I did."

"Save some of the worry for our present situation," said Anti. "The object of your concern doesn't seem to need it. At least she isn't interested."

Nona had wandered back to the instrument panel and was staring at the gravity drive indicator again. There was really nothing there to hold her attention but her curiosity was insatiable and childlike.

And in many ways she seemed immature. And that led to an elusive thought: what child was she? Not whose child--what child. Her actual parents were known, obscure technicians and mechanics, descendants themselves of a long line of mechanics and technicians. Not one notable or distinguished person among them, her family was decently unknown to fame or misfortune in every branch--until she'd come along. And what was her place, according to heredity? Docchi didn't know but he didn't share the official medical view.

With an effort Docchi stopped thinking about Nona. "We appealed to the medicouncilor," he said. "We asked for a ship to go to the nearest star, a rocket, naturally. Even allowing for a better design than we now have the journey will take a long time--forty or fifty years going and the same time back. That's entirely too long for a normal crew, but it wouldn't matter to us. You know what the Medicouncil did with that request. That's why we're here."

"Why rockets?" interrupted Jordan. "Why not some form of that gravity drive you were talking about? Seems to me for travel over a long distance it would be much better."

"As an idea it's very good," said Docchi. "Theoretically there's no upper limit to the gravity drive except the velocity of light and even that's questionable. If it would work the time element could be cut in fractions. But the last twenty years have proved that gravity drives don't work at all outside the solar system. They work very well close to the sun, start acting up at the orbit of Venus and are no good at all from Earth on out."

"Why don't they?" asked Jordan. "You said they used the same generator as passenger gravity. Those work away from the sun."

"Sure they do," said Docchi impatiently. "Like ours is working now? Actually ship internal gravity is more erratic than we had on the asteroid, and that's hardly reliable. For some reason the drive is always worse than passenger gravity. Don't ask me why. If I knew I wouldn't be on Handicap Haven. Arms or no arms, biocompensator or not, I'd be the most important scientist on Earth."

"With multitudes of women competing for your affections," said Anti.

"I think he'd settle for one," suggested Jordan.

"Poor unimaginative man," said Anti. "When I was young I was not so narrow in my outlook."

"We've heard about your youth," said Jordan. "I don't believe very much of it."

"Talk about your youth and love affairs privately if you want but spare us the details. Especially now, since there are more important things to attend to." Docchi glowered at them. "Anyway the gravity drive is out," he resumed. "At one time they had hopes for it but no longer. The present function of the generator is to provide gravity _inside_ the ship, for passenger comfort. Nothing else.

"So it is a rocket ship, slow and clumsy but reliable. It'll get us there. The Medicouncil refused us and so we'll have to go higher."

"I'm all for it," said Anti. "How do we get higher?"

"We've discussed it before," answered Docchi. "The Medicouncil is responsible to the Solar Government, and in turn Solar has been known to yield to devious little pressures."

"Or not so devious great big pressures. Fine. I'm in favor," said Anti. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Mars is close," continued Docchi. "But Earth is more influential. Therefore I recommend it." His voice trailed off and he stopped and listened, listened.

Anti listened too but the sound was too faint for her hearing. "What's the matter?" she said. "I think you're imagining things."

Jordan leaned forward in his seat and examined the instrument panel carefully before answering. "That's the trouble, Anti. You're not supposed to _hear_ it, but you should be able to feel vibrations as long as the rocket's on."

"I don't feel it either."

"I know," said Jordan, looking at Docchi. "I can't understand. There's plenty of fuel."

* * * * *

The momentum of the ship carried it along after the rockets stopped firing. They were still moving but not very fast and not in the direction they ultimately had to go. Gingerly Docchi tried out the magnetic shoes. He was clumsy but no longer helpless in the gravityless ship. He stared futilely at the instruments as if he could wring out more secrets than the panel had electronic access to.

"It's mechanical trouble of some sort," he said uneasily. "I don't know where to begin."

Before he could get to it Anti was in the passageway that led from the control compartment. "Course I'm completely ignorant," she said. "Seems to me we ought to start with the rocket tubes and trace the trouble from there."

"I was going to," said Docchi. "You stay here, Anti. I'll see what's wrong."

She reached nearly from the floor to the ceiling. She missed by scant inches the sides of the corridor. Locomotion was easy for her, turning around wasn't. So she didn't turn. "Look, honey," her voice floated back. "You brought me along for the ride. That's fine. I'm grateful but I'm not satisfied with just that. Seems to me I've got to earn my fare. You stay and run the ship. You and Jordan know how. I don't. I'll find out what's wrong."

"But you won't know what to do."

"I don't have to. You don't have to be a mechanic to see something's broken. I'll find it, and when I do you can come and fix it."

He knew when it was useless to argue with her. "We'll both go," he said. "Jordan will stay at the controls."

It was a dingy poorly lighted passageway in an older ship. Handicap Haven didn't rate the best equipment that was being produced, and even when it was new the ship had been no prize. On one side of the corridor was the hull of the ship; on the other a few small cabins. None were occupied. Anti stopped. The long hall ended in a cross corridor that led to the other side of the ship where a return passage led back to the control compartment.

"We'll check the stern tubes," he said, still unable to see around her. "Open the door and we'll look in."

"Can't," said Anti. "Tried to but the handle won't turn. There's a red light too. Does it mean anything?"

He'd expected something like this but nevertheless his heart sank now that he was actually confronted with it. "It does. Don't try again. With your strength you might be unlucky enough to open the door."

"There's a man for you," said Anti. "First you tell me to open it and then you don't want me to."

"There's no air in the rear compartment, Anti. The combustion chamber's been retracted--that's why the rockets stopped firing. The air rushed out into space as soon as it happened. That's what the red light means."

"We'd all die if I opened it now?"

"We would."

"Then let's get busy and fix it."

"We will. But we've got to make sure it doesn't happen again. You see, it wasn't accidental. Someone, or something, was responsible."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. Did you see anyone while we were loading your tank in the ship?"

"Nothing. How could I? I heard Cameron shouting, other noise. But I couldn't see a thing that wasn't directly overhead, and there wasn't anything."

"I thought so. A geepee _could_ have got in without anyone seeing him. I didn't count them but I was certain all of them had dropped outside. I was mistaken; one of them didn't."

"Why does it have to be a geepee?"

"It just does, Anti. The combustion chamber was retracted while we were all in the control compartment. We didn't do it and therefore it had to be someone back here.

"No man is strong enough to retract the cap, but if he somehow exerted superhuman effort, as soon as the chamber cleared the tubes rocket action would cease and the air in the compartment would exhaust into space."

"So we have a dead geepee in the rocket compartment."

"A geepee doesn't die or even become inactive. Lack of air doesn't hinder it in the least. Not only that, a geepee might be able to escape from the compartment. It's strong and fast enough to open the door against the pressure and get out and close it again in less than a second. We wouldn't notice it because the ship would automatically replenish the small amount of air that would escape."

Anti settled down grimly. "Then there's a geepee on the loose, intent on wrecking us?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then what are we standing around for? All we have to do is go back to the controls and pick up the robot on the radio. We'll make it go in there and repair the damage it's done."

She partly turned around and saw Docchi's face. "Don't tell me," she said, "I should have thought of it. The radio doesn't work inside the ship."

Docchi nodded reluctantly. "It doesn't. Robots are never used aboard and so the emergency band is broadcast by the bow antenna. The hull of the ship is a pretty good insulation."

"Ain't that nice?" said Anti happily. "We've got a robot hunt ahead of us."

"And our bare hands to hunt it with."

"Oh come. It's not as hopeless as that. Look, the robot was back here when the rockets stopped. It couldn't get by the control compartment without our seeing it."

"That's right. There are two corridors leading through the compartment, one on each side of the ship."

"That's what I mean. We came down one and there wasn't any geepee. So it's got to be in the other. If it goes in a cabin a light will shine outside. It can't hide from us."

"I don't doubt we'll find it. But what'll we do then?"

"I was thinking," said Anti. "Can you get past me when I'm standing like this?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. Neither can a geepee. All I need is a toaster, or something that looks like it. I'll drive the robot forward and Jordan can burn it down." Determinedly she began to move toward the far corridor. "Hurry back to Jordan and tell him. There ought to be another weapon on the ship. Should be one for the pilot to use. Bring it back to me."

Docchi bit his lip and stared at the back of the huge woman. He knew Anti, and when it was useless to argue with her. "All right," he answered. "Stay here though. Don't try anything until I get a toaster for you."

The magnetics on his feet were no substitute for gravity. Docchi couldn't move fast, no human could. He had time to think as he went along but nothing better suggested itself. A toaster for Jordan and another for Anti--if there was another.

And Anti would block the passageway. A geepee might go through her but it could never squeeze past. The robot would try to get away. If it came toward Anti she might disable it. But she would be firing directly into the control compartment. And if she missed even partially--well, the instruments were delicate.

But Jordan might get the chance to bring down the robot. Then Anti would be in the line of fire. No matter how he looked at it, Docchi was sure the plan was unworkable. They'd have to devise something else.

"Jordan," called Docchi as soon as he got there; but Jordan wasn't in sight. Nona was, still gazing serenely at the gravity indicator. Nothing seemed capable of breaking through the shell that surrounded her.

Light was streaming from the opposite corridor. Docchi hurried over. Jordan was just inside the entrance, the toaster clutched grimly in his hand. He was hitching his truncated body slowly toward the stern.

Coming to meet him was Anti--unarmed enormous Anti. She hadn't meant to wait for the weapon--she was pretty certain there wasn't any--she had merely wanted to get him out of the way. And she wasn't walking; somehow it seemed more like swimming, a bulbous huge sea animal moving through the air. She waved what resembled fins against the wall, with them propelling herself forward. "Melt it down," she cried.

It was difficult to make out the vaguely human form of the geepee. The powerful shining body blended in with the structure of the ship--unintentional camouflage, though the robot wasn't aware of it. It crouched at the threshold of a cabin, hesitating between approaching dangers.

Jordan raised the weapon and lowered it with the same motion. "Get out of the way." He gestured futilely to Anti.

There was no place she could go. She was too big to enter a cabin, too massive to let the robot squeeze by even if she wanted. "Never mind. Get him," she called.

The geepee wasn't a genius even by robot standards. But it did know that heat is deadly and that a human body is a fragile thing. And so it ran toward Anti. Unlike humans it didn't need special magnetics; such a function was built into it and the absence or presence of gravity disturbed it not at all. It moved very fast.

Docchi had to watch though he didn't want to. The robot exploded into action, launching its body at Anti. But it was the robot that was thrown back. It had calculated swiftly but incorrectly--relative mass favored the enormous woman.

The electronic brain obeyed the original instructions, whatever they were. It got up and rushed Anti again. Metal arms shot out with dazzling speed and crashed against the flesh of the huge woman. Docchi could hear the rattle of blows. No ordinary person could take that punishment and live.

But Anti wasn't ordinary. Even for an accidental she was strange, living far inside a deep armor of flesh. It was possible she never felt the crushing force of those blows. And she didn't turn away, try to escape. Instead she reached out and grasped the robot, drawing it to her. And the geepee lost another advantage, leverage. The bright arms didn't flash so fast nor with such lethal power.

"Gravity," cried Anti. "Give me all you've got."

Her strategy was obvious; she was leaning against the struggling machine. And here at least Docchi could help her. He turned and took two steps before the surge hit him. Gravity came in waves, each one greater than that before. The first impulse staggered him, and at the second his knees buckled and he sank to the floor. After that his eardrums hurt and he thought he could feel the ship quiver. He knew dazedly that an artificial gravity field of this magnitude had never been attained--but the knowledge didn't help him move. He was powerless in the force that held him.

And it vanished as quickly as it had come. Painfully his lungs expanded, each muscle aching individually. He rolled over and got up, lurching past Jordan.

Anti wasn't the inert broken flesh he expected. Already she was moving and was standing up by the time he got to her. "Oof," she grunted, gazing with satisfaction at the twisted shape at her feet. It was past repair, the body dented and arms and legs bent, the head smashed, the electronic brain in it completely useless.

"Are you hurt?" asked Docchi in awe.

She waggled the extremities and waited as if for the signal to travel through the nerves. "Nope," she said finally. "Can't feel anything broken. Would have been if I'd tried to stand." She moved back to get a better view of the robot. "That's throwing my weight around," she said with satisfaction. "At the right time in the right way. The secret's timing. And I must say you took the cue well." Her laughter rolled through the ship.

"I didn't have anything to do with the gravity," said Docchi.

"Who? Jordan--no, he's just getting up."

"Nona," said Docchi. "She was the only one who wasn't doing anything else. She saw what had to be done and got to it before I did. But I can't figure out how she got so much gravity."

"Ask her," said Anti.

Docchi grimaced, limping into the control room, followed by Anti and Jordan. Nona was at the gravity panel, her face pleasant and unconcerned.

The unprecedented power of the gravity field could be accounted for, of course. The ship was old and had seen much use. Connections were loose or broken and had somehow crossed, circuiting more power into the gravity generator than it was designed for. Miraculously it had held up for a brief time--and that was all there was to it. And yet the explanation failed to be completely satisfactory. "I wonder if you had anything to do with it," he said to her. Nona smiled questioningly.

"Had to, didn't she?" said Jordan. "She was the only one who could have turned it on."

"Started it, yes. Increased the power of the field, I don't know," said Docchi. He outlined what he thought had taken place.

"That sounds logical," agreed Jordan. "But it doesn't matter how it was done. Gravity engineers would find it interesting. If we had time I'd like to see how the circuits are crossed. We might discover something new."

"I'm sure it's interesting," said Anti irritably. "Interesting to everybody but me. And I'm pragmatic. All I want to know is: when do we start the rockets? We've got a long way to go."

"There's something that comes before that, Anti," said Jordan. "A retracted combustion cap in flight generally means at least one burned out tube." He made his way to the instruments, checking them glumly. "This time it's three."

"You forgot something yourself, Jordan," said Docchi. "I was thinking of the robot."

"I thought we'd settled _that_," said Anti impatiently.

"We have. But let's follow it through. Where did the robot get instructions? Not from Vogel via the radio. The ship's hull cuts off that band. And the last we knew it was in our control."

"Voice," said Jordan. "We freed it. Someone else could take it over."

"Who?" said Anti. "None of us."

"No. But think back to when we were loading the tank. We saw it through the telecom and the angle of vision was bad. You couldn't see anything that wasn't directly overhead. Not only the robot but Cameron also managed to get inside."

Jordan hefted the weapon. "So we've got another hunt on our hands. Only this time it's in our favor. Nothing I like better than aiming at a nice normal doctor."

Docchi glanced at the weapon. "Take it along. But don't use it. A homicide would ruin us. We could forget what we're going for. Anyway, you won't actually need it. The ship's temporarily disabled and he'll consider that damage enough. He'll be ready to surrender."

He was.

5

The doctor was at ease, confident. "You've got the ship and you've caught me. How long do you think you can keep either of us?"

Docchi regarded him levelly. "I don't expect active cooperation but I'd like to think you'll give us your word not to hinder us hereafter."

Cameron glared at the toaster. "I won't promise anything."

"We can chain him to Anti," suggested Jordan. "That will keep him out of trouble."

"Don't wince, Cameron," said Docchi. "She was a woman once. An attractive one too."

"We can put him in a spacesuit and lock his hands behind his back," said Jordan. "Like the old-fashioned straitjacket."

Cameron laughed loudly. "Go ahead."

Jordan juggled the toaster. "I can use this to weld with. Let's put him in a cabin and close the door, permanently. I'll cut a slot to shove food in--a very narrow slot."

"Excellent. That's the solution. Cameron, do you want to reconsider your decision?"

Cameron shrugged blithely. "They'll pick you up in a day or less anyway. I'm not compromising myself if I agree."

"It's good enough for me," declared Anti. "A doctor's word is as good as his oath--Hippocratic or hypocritic."

"Don't be cynical, Anti. Doctors have an economic sense as well as the next person," said Docchi. He turned to Cameron. "You see, after Anti grew too massive for her skeletal structure, doctors reasoned she'd be most comfortable in the absence of gravity. That was in the early days, before successful ship gravity units were developed. They put her on an interplanetary ship and kept transferring her before each landing.

"But the treatment was troublesome--and expensive. So they devised a new method--the asteroid and the tank of acid. Not being aquatic by nature, Anti resented the change. She still does."

"Don't blame me for that," said Cameron. "I wasn't responsible."

"It was before your time," agreed Docchi. He frowned speculatively at the doctor. "I noticed it at the time but I had other things to think about. Tell me, why did you laugh when Jordan mentioned spacesuits?"

Cameron grinned broadly. "That was my project while you were busy with the robot."

"To do what? Jordan----"

But Jordan was already on his way. He was gone for some time, minutes that passed slowly.

"Well?" asked Docchi on Jordan's return. The question was hardly necessary; his face told the story.

"Cut to ribbons."

"All of them? Even the emergency pack?"

"That too. He knew where everything was. Nothing can be repaired."

"So who cares?" rumbled Anti. "We don't need spacesuits unless something happens and we have to go outside the ship."

"Exactly, Anti. How do we replace the defective tubes? From the outside, of course. By destroying the spacesuits Cameron made sure we can't."

Anti glowered at the doctor. "And I suppose you merely had our welfare at heart. Isn't that so, Cameron?"

"You can think anything you want. I did and I do," said Cameron imperturbably. "Now be reasonable. We're still in the asteroid zone. In itself that's not dangerous. Without power to avoid stray rocks it can be very unpleasant. My advice is to contact the Medicouncil at once. They'll send a ship to take us in."

"Thanks, no. I don't like Handicap Haven as well as you," Anti said brusquely. She turned to Docchi. "Maybe I'm stupid for asking but what's so deadly about being in space without a spacesuit?"

"Cold. Lack of pressure. Lack of oxygen."

"Is that all? Nothing else?"

His voice was too loud; it seemed thunderous to him. "Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe not for me. I just wanted to be sure." She beckoned to Nona and together they went forward, where the spacesuits were kept. "Don't do anything drastic until I get back," she said as she left.

Cameron scowled puzzledly and started to follow until Jordan waved the toaster in front of him. "All right, I see it," he growled, stopping and rubbing his chin. "There's nothing she can do. You know it as well as I do."

"Do I? Well, for once I'm inclined to agree with you," said Docchi. "But you never can tell with Anti. Sometimes she comes up with surprising things. She's not scientifically trained but she has a good mind, as good as her body once was."

"And how good was that?" asked Cameron ironically.

"Look it up in your records," said Jordan shortly. "We don't talk about it ourselves."

* * * * *

The women didn't come back soon, and when they did Cameron wasn't sure that the weird creature that floated into the control compartment with Nona _was_ Anti. He looked again and saw shudderingly what she had done to herself. "You _do_ need psychotherapy," he said bitingly. "When we get back it's the first thing I'll recommend. Can't you understand how fool-hardy you're being?"

"Be quiet," growled Jordan. "Anti, explain what you've rigged up. I'm not sure we can let you do it."