Chapter III: Part 3

"Any kind of pressure will do as far as the outside of the body is concerned," answered Anti, flipping back the helmet. "Mechanical pressure is as satisfactory as air. I had Nona cut the spacesuit in strips and wind them around me, very hard. That will keep me from squishing out. Then I found a helmet that would cover my head when the damaged part was cut away. It won't hold much air pressure even taped tight to my skin. It doesn't have to as long as it's pure oxygen."

"So far it makes sense," admitted Docchi. "But what can you do about temperature?"

"Do you think I'm going to worry about cold?" asked Anti. "Me? Way down below all this flesh? Mountains and mountains of it?"

"I've heard enough," said Cameron, standing in front of Anti. "Now listen to me. Stop this nonsense and take off that childish rig. I can't permit you to ruin my career by deliberate suicide."

"You and your stinking career," said Jordan disgustedly. "You don't know what success is and what it means to give it up. Stay out of this. We don't have to ask your permission to do anything." Cameron retreated from the toaster and Jordan turned to Anti. "Do you understand what the risk, is, Anti? You know that it may not work at all?"

"I've thought about it," said Anti. "On the other hand I've thought about the asteroid. I don't want to go back."

"We should have viewers outside," said Docchi. "One directly in back, one on each side. At least we'll know what's happening."

At the control panel Jordan began flipping levers. "They're out and working," he said at last. "Anti, go to the freight ramp. Close your helmet and wait. I'll let the air out slowly. If everything doesn't work perfectly let me know on the helmet radio and I'll yank you in immediately. Once you're outside I'll give you further instructions. You'll find the tools and equipment that opens to space."

Anti waddled away. Huge, but she wasn't any bigger than her determination.

Once she was gone Jordan looked down at his legless body. "I hate to do this but we've got to be realistic about it."

"It's the only way we've got a chance," answered Docchi. "Anti's the only one who can do the job. And I think she'll survive."

Jordan adjusted a dial. "Cameron had better hope she will," he muttered. "He'll join her if she doesn't."

Docchi glanced hastily at the screen. Anti was hanging free in space, wrapped and strapped in strips torn from the supposedly useless spacesuits. And she was also enclosed in more flesh than any human had borne. The helmet was taped jauntily to her head and the oxygen cylinder was fastened to her back. And she lived.

"How is she?" he asked anxiously, unaware that the microphone was open.

"Fine," came the reply, faint and reedy. "The air's thin but it's pure."

"Cold?"

"Don't know. Don't feel it yet. Anyway it can't be worse than the acid. What do I do?"

Jordan gave her directions while the others watched. It required considerable effort to find the tools and examine the tubes for defectives, to loosen the tubes in the sockets and pull them out, sending them spinning into space. It was still more difficult to replace them, though there was no gravity and Anti was held firmly to the hull by magnetics.

Anti had never been a technician of any kind. Cameron was sure of it. She was ignorant of the commonest terms, the simplest tool. She shouldn't have been able to do it. And yet she managed nicely, though she didn't know how. The explanation must be that she did know, that somewhere in her remote past, of which he was totally uninformed, she had had training which prepared her for this. Such contradiction was ridiculous. But there was rhythm to her motions, this giant shapeless creature whose bones would break with weight if she tried to stand at half gravity.

The whale plowing through the deeps and waves has the attraction of beauty. It can't be otherwise for any animal in an environment which it is suited to live in. And the human race had produced, haphazardly, one unlikely person to whom interplanetary space was not alien. Anti was at last in her element.

"Now," said Jordan, keeping tension out of his voice though it was trembling in his hand. "Go back to the outside tool compartment. You'll find a lever near it. Pull. This will set the combustion cap in place."

"Done," said Anti when it was.

"That's all. Come in now."

She went slowly over the hull to the cargo ramp and while she did Jordan reeled in the viewers. The lock was no sooner closed to the outside and the air hissing into the intermediate space than he was there, waiting for the inner lock to open.

"Are you all right?" he asked gruffly.

She flipped back the helmet. There was frost on her eyebrows and her face was bright and red. "Why shouldn't I be? My hands aren't cold." She stripped off the heated gloves and waggled her fingers.

"I can't believe it," protested Cameron with more vehemence than he intended. "You should be frozen through."

"Why?" said Anti with gurgling laughter. "It's merely a matter of insulation and I have plenty of that. More than I want."

Shaking his head Cameron turned to Docchi. "When I was a boy I saw a film of a dancer. She did a ballet. I think it was called: Free Space-Free Life. Something like that. I can't say why but it came to my mind when Anti was out there. I hadn't thought of it in years."

He rubbed his hand over his forehead. "It fascinated me when I first saw it. I went to it again and again. When I grew older I found out a tragic thing had happened to the dancer. She was on a tour of Venus when the ship she was in was forced down. Searching parties were sent out but they didn't find anyone except her. And she had been struggling over a fungus plain for a week. You know what that meant. The great ballerina was a living spore culture medium."

"Shut up," said Jordan. "Shut up."

Cameron was engrossed in the remembrance and didn't seem to hear. "Naturally she died. I can't recall her name but I can't forget the ballet. And that's funny because it reminded me of Anti out there----"

"I told you to shut up!" Jordan exploded a fist in the doctor's face. If there had been more behind the blow than shoulders and a fragment of a body Cameron's jaw would have been broken. As it was he floated through the air and crashed against the wall.

Angrily he got to his feet. "I gave my word I wouldn't cause trouble. I thought the agreement worked both ways." He glanced significantly at the weapon Jordan carried. "Better keep that around all the time."

"I told you," said Jordan. "I told you more than once." After that he ignored the doctor, thrusting the weapon securely into his garment. He turned to Anti. "Very good," he said, his anger gone and his voice courtly. "An excellent performance. One of your best, Antoinette."

"You should have seen me when I was good," said Anti. The frost had melted from her eyebrows and was trickling down her cheek. She left with Jordan.

Cameron remained behind. It was too bad about his ambition. He knew now he was never going to be the spectacular success he'd once envisioned--not after this escape from Handicap Haven. He'd done all he could to prevent it but it wouldn't count with the Medicouncil that he had good intentions. Still, he'd be able to practice somewhere; doctors were always necessary. There were worse fates--suppose he had to abandon medicine altogether?

Think of the ballerina he'd been talking about--she hadn't died as the history tapes indicated. That much was window dressing; people were supposed to believe it because it was preferable to the truth. It would have been better for that woman if she hadn't lived on. By now he had recalled her name: Antoinette.

And now it was Anti. He could have found it out by checking the records--if Handicap Haven kept that particular information on file. He was suddenly willing to bet that it wasn't there. He felt his jaw, which ached throbbingly. He deserved it. He hadn't really been convinced that they were people too.

* * * * *

"We'll stick to the regular lanes," decided Docchi. "I think we'll get closer. They've no reason to suspect we're heading toward Earth. Mars is more logical, or one of the moons of Jupiter, or another asteroid. I'm sure they don't know what we're trying to do."

Jordan shifted uneasily. "I'm against it. They'll pick us up before we have a chance to do anything."

"There's nothing to distinguish us from an ordinary Earth to Mars rocket. We have a ship's registry on board. Use it. Take a ship that's in our general class and thereafter we'll be that ship. If Traffic blips us, and I don't think they will unless we try to land, we'll have a recording ready. Something like this: 'ME 21 zip crackle 9 reporting. Our communication is acting up. We can't hear you, Traffic.'

"That's quite believable in view of the age and condition of our ship. Don't overdo the static effects but repeat it with suitable variations and I don't think they'll bother us."

Shaking his head dubiously Jordan swung away toward the tiny fabricating shop.

"You seem worried," said Anti as she came in.

Docchi didn't turn around. "Yeah."

"What's the matter, won't it work?"

"Sure. There are too many ships. They can't pick us out among so many. Anyway they're not looking for us around Earth. They don't really know why we took the rocket and escaped."

"Then why so much concern? Once we're near Earth we won't need much time."

His face was taut and tired. "I thought so too, in the beginning. Things have changed. The entire Solar Police force has been alerted for us."

"So the Solar Police really want us? But I still don't understand why that changes a thing."

"Look, Anti. We planned to bypass the Medicouncil and take our case directly to the Solar Government. But if they want us as badly as the radio indicates they're not going to be sympathetic. Not at all.

"And if they're not, if the Solar Government doesn't support us all the way, we'll never get another chance. Hereafter there'll be guards everywhere on the asteroid. They'll watch us even when we sleep."

"Well?" said Anti. She seemed trimmer and more vigorous. "We considered it _might_ turn out this way, didn't we? Let's take the last step first."

Docchi raised his head. "Go to the ultimate authority? The Solar Government won't like it."

"They won't, but there's nothing they can do about it."

"Don't be sure. They can shoot us down. When we stole the ship we automatically became criminals."

"I know, but they'll be careful, especially after we make contact. How would it look if we were blown to bits in front of their eyes, in a billion homes?"

Docchi chuckled grimly. "Very shrewd. All right, they'll be careful. But is it worth it to us?"

"It is to me."

"Then it is to me," said Docchi. "I suggest we start getting ready."

Anti scrutinized him carefully. "Maybe we ought to fix you up."

"With fake arms and a cosmetikit? No. They'll have to take us as we are, unpretty, even repulsive."

"That's a better idea. I hadn't thought of the sympathy angle."

"Not sympathy--reality. It means too much to us. I don't want them to approve of us as handsome unfortunates and then have them change their minds when they discover what we're really like."

Sitting in silence, Docchi watched her go. She at least would benefit. Dr. Cameron apparently hadn't noticed that the exposure to extreme cold had done more to inhibit her unceasing growth than the acid bath. She probably would never get back to her former size but some day, if the cold treatment were properly investigated, she might be able to stand at normal gravity. For her there was hope. The rest of them had to keep on pretending that there was.

He examined the telecom. They were getting closer. No longer a point of light, Earth was a perceptible disc. He could see the outline of oceans, the shapes of land and the shadows of mountains, the flat ripple where prairies and plains were; he could imagine people. This was home--once.

Jordan came in. "The radio tape is rigged up. I haven't had to use it yet. But we have a friend trailing along behind us, an official friend."

"Has he blipped at us?"

"When I left he hadn't. He keeps hanging on."

"Is he overtaking us?"

"He'd like to."

"Don't let him."

"With this bag of bolts?"

"Shake it apart if you have to," said Docchi impatiently. "How soon can you slide into a broadcast orbit?"

Jordan furrowed his forehead. "I didn't think we'd planned on that this time. It was supposed to be our last resort."

"Anti and I have talked it over. We agree that this is our last chance. Now's the time to speak up if you've got any objections."

"I've been listening to the police calls," said Jordan thoughtfully. "No, I guess I haven't got any objection. Not with a heavy cruiser behind us. None at all."

* * * * *

They came together in the control compartment. "I don't want a focus exclusively on me," Docchi was saving. "Nor on Nona either, though I know she's most acceptable. To a world of perfect and beautiful people we may look strange but they must see us as we are. We have to avoid the family portrait effect."

"Samples," suggested Anti.

"In a sense we are, yes. A lot depends on whether they accept those samples."

For the first time Cameron began to realize what they were attempting. "Wait," he said urgently. "You're making a mistake. You've got to listen to me."

"We've got to do this and we've got to do that," said Jordan. "I'm getting tired of it. Can't you understand we're giving orders now?"

"That's right," said Docchi. "Jordan, see that Cameron stays out of the transmitting angle and doesn't interrupt. We've come too far to let him influence us."

"Sure. If he makes a sound I'll melt the teeth out of his mouth." Jordan held the toaster against his side, away from the telecom but aimed at Cameron.

The doctor wanted to break in but the weapon, though small, was very real. And Jordan was ready to use it. That was the only justification for his silence, that and the fact they'd learn anyway.

"Ready?" said Docchi.

"Flip the switch and we will be. I've hooked everything on. They can't help themselves. They've got to listen."

The rocket slipped out of the approach lanes. It spun down, stem tubes pulsing brightly, falling toward Earth in a tight trajectory. Down, down; the familiar planet was very large.

"Citizens of the solar system, everyone on Earth," began Docchi. "This is an unscheduled broadcast. We're using the emergency bands because for us it is an emergency. I said we, and you want to know who _we_ are. Look at us. Accidentals--that's all we can be.

"We're not pretty. We know it. But there are other things more important. Accomplishment, contribution to progress. And though it may seem unlikely to you there are contributions we can make--if we're permitted to do so.

"But shut away on a little asteroid we're denied our rights. All we can do is exist in frustration and boredom, kept alive whether we want to be or not. And yet we can help you as you've helped us--if we're allowed to. You can't go to the stars yet, but we can. And ultimately, through what we learn, you'll be able to.

"You've listened to experts who say it can't be done, that rockets are too slow and that the crew would die of old age before they got back. They're almost right, but accidentals are the exception. Ordinary people would die but we won't. The Medicouncil has all the facts--they know what we are--and still they refuse us."

At the side of the control compartment Cameron moved to protest. Jordan glanced at him, imperceptibly waggling the weapon. Cameron stopped, the words unspoken.

"Biocompensation," continued Docchi evenly as if nothing had occurred. "Let me explain what it means in case information on it has been suppressed. The principle of biocompensation has long been a matter of conjecture. This is the first age in which medical techniques are advanced enough to explore it. Every cell and organism tends to survive as an individual and a species. Injure it and it strives for survival according to the extent of damage. If it can it will heal the wound and live on in its present state. Otherwise it propagates almost immediately. You can verify this by forgetting to water the lawn and watch how soon it goes to seed.

"Humans aren't plants, you say. And yet the principle applies. Accidentals are people who have been maimed and mutilated almost past belief. And our bodies have had the assistance of medical science, _real_ medical science. Everyone knows how, after certain illnesses, immunity to that disease can be acquired. And more than blood fractions are involved in the process. For us blood was supplied as long as we needed it, machines did our breathing, kidneys replaced, hearts furnished, glandular products in exact minute quantities, nervous and muscular systems regenerated--and our bodies responded. They had to respond or none of us would be here today. And such was the extremity of the struggle--so close did we come to it that we gained practical immunity to--death."

Sweat ran down Docchi's face. He longed for hands to wipe it away.

"Most accidentals are nearly immortal. Not quite of course; we may die four or five hundred years from now. Meanwhile there is no reason why we can't be explorers for you. Rockets are slow. You'd die before you got to Alpha Centauri and back. We won't. Time means nothing to us.

"Perhaps better faster rockets will be devised after we leave. You may get there before we do. We don't mind. We will have tried to repay you the best way we know how and that will satisfy us."

With an effort Docchi smiled. The instant he did so he felt it was a mistake, one he couldn't call back. Even to himself it seemed more like a snarl.

"You know where we're kept--that's more polite than saying imprisoned. We don't call it Handicap Haven. Our name for it is: _Junkpile_. And we're junkmen. Do you know how we feel?

"I don't know how you can persuade the Medicouncil to let us man an expedition to the stars. We've appealed and appealed and they've always turned us down. Now that we've let you know it's up to you. Our future as humans is at stake. Settle it with your conscience. When you go to sleep think of us out there on the junkpile."

He nudged the switch and sat down. His face was gray and his eyes were rimmed and burning.

"I don't want to bother you," said Jordan. "What'll we do about these?"

Docchi glanced at the telecom. The ships were uncomfortably close and considerably more numerous than the last time he had looked. "Take evasive action," he said wearily. "Swing close to Earth and use the planet's gravity to give us a good fast sendoff. We can't let them take us until people have a chance to make their feelings known."

"Now that you've finished I want to discuss it with you," said Cameron. There was an odd tone to his voice.

"Later," said Docchi. "Save it. I'm going to sleep. Jordan, wake me if anything happens. And remember you don't have to listen to this fellow if you don't want to."

Jordan nodded contemptuously. "I know what he's like. He's got nothing to say to me."

Nona, leaning against the panel, paid no attention to any of them. She seemed to be listening to something nobody else could hear, she, to whom sound had no meaning. Docchi's body sagged as he went out. Her perpetual air of wondering search for something she could never have was not new but it was no more bearable because of that.

And while Docchi slept the race went on against a slowly changing backdrop of stars and planets. Only the darkness remained the same; it was immutable. The little flecks of light that edged nearer hour after hour didn't seem cheerful to Jordan. His lips were fixed in a thin hard line. His expression didn't alter. Presently, long after Earth was far behind, he heard Docchi come in again.

"I've been thinking about it," said Cameron. "Nice speech."

"Yeah." Docchi glanced at the screen. The view didn't inspire comment.

Cameron was standing at the threshold. "I may as well tell you," he said reluctantly. "I tried to stop the broadcast as soon as I found out what was going on. You wouldn't listen."

He came on into the control compartment. Nona was huddled in a seat, her face blankly incurious. Anti was absent, replenishing the acid for her robe. "Do you know why the Medicouncil refused to let you go?"

"Get to the point."

"Damn it, I am," said Cameron, sweating. "The Centauri group contains several planets, just how many we're not sure. From what we know of cosmology there's a good chance intelligent life exists there, probably not far behind us in technical development. Whoever goes there will be our representatives to an alien race. What _they_ look like isn't important; it's their concern. But our ambassadors have to meet certain minimum standards. It's an important occasion, our future relations rest on. Damn it--don't you see _our_ ambassadors must at least _appear_ to be human beings?"

"You're not telling us anything new. We know how you feel." Jordan was rigid with disgust.

"You're wrong," said Cameron. "You're so wrong. I'm not speaking for myself. I'm a doctor. The medicouncilors are doctors. We graft on or regenerate legs and arms and eyes. The tools of our trade are blood and bones and intestines. We know very well what people look like from the inside. We're well aware of the thin borderline that separates normal men and women from accidentals.

"Can't you still understand what I'm saying? They're perfect, everybody's perfect. Too much so. They can't tolerate small blemishes. More money is spent for research on acne than to support the whole asteroid. They rush to us with wrinkles and dandruff. Health, or the appearance of it, has become a fetish. You may think the people you appealed to are sympathetic but what they feel is something else."

"What are you driving at?" said Docchi in a low voice.

"Just this: if it were up to the Medicouncil you'd be on your way to the Centauris. It isn't. The decision wasn't made by us. Actually it came directly from the Solar Government. And the Solar Government never acts contrary to public opinion."

Docchi turned away, his face wrinkled in distaste. "I didn't think you had the nerve to stand there and say that."

"I didn't want to. But you've got to know the truth." Cameron twisted his head uncomfortably. "You're not far from Earth. You can still pick up the reaction to your broadcast. Try it and see."

Jordan looked at Docchi who nodded imperceptibly. "We may as well," said Docchi. "It's settled now, one way or the other. Nothing we can do will change it."

Jordan searched band after band, eagerly at first. His enthusiasm died and still the reaction never varied. Private citizen or public figure, man or woman, the indignation was concealed but nevertheless firm and unmistakable. There was no doubt accidentals were unfortunate but they were well taken care of. There was no need to trade on deformity; the era of the freak show had passed and it never would return.

"Turn it off," said Docchi at last.

Numbly Jordan complied.

"Now what?" he said.

"Why fight it?" said the doctor. "Go back to the asteroid. It'll be forgotten."

"Not by us," said Docchi dully. "But there doesn't seem to be any choice. It would have been better if we had tried to work through the Medicouncil. We misjudged our allies."

"We knew you had," said Cameron. "We thought we'd let you go on thinking as you did. It gave you something to hope for, allowed you to feel you weren't alone. The trouble was that your discontent carried you further than we thought it could."

"We did get somewhere," Docchi said. His lethargy seemed to lift somewhat as he contemplated what they'd achieved. "And there's no reason we have to stop. Jordan, contact the ships behind us. Tell them we've got Cameron on board. A hostage. Play him up as their man. Basically he's not bad. He's not against us as much as the rest are."

Anti came into the compartment. Cheerfulness faded from her face. "What's the matter?"

"Jordan'll tell you. I want to think."

Docchi closed his eyes and his mind to the whispered consultation of Anti and Jordan, to the feeble ultimatum to the ships behind them. The rocket lurched slightly though the vibration from the exhaust did not change. There was no cause for alarm, the flight of a ship was never completely steady. Minor disturbances no longer affected Docchi.

When he had it straightened out in his mind he looked around. "If we were properly fueled and provisioned I would be in favor of heading for Alpha or Proxima. Maybe even Sirius. Distance doesn't matter since we don't care whether we come back." It was plain he wasn't expending much hope. "But we can't make it with the small fuel reserve we have. If we can lose the ships behind us we may be able to hide until we can steal fuel and food."

"What'll we do with doc?" said Jordan. He too was infected with defeat.

"We'll have to raid an unguarded outpost, a small mining asteroid is our best bet. We'll leave him there."

"Yeah," said Jordan listlessly. "A good idea, _if_ we can run away from our personal escort. Offhand I don't think we can. They hesitated when I told them we had Cameron but they didn't drop back. Look."

He looked himself and, unbelievingly, looked again. He blinked rapidly but the screen could report only what there was.

"They're gone," he said, his voice breaking with excitement.

Almost instantly Docchi was at his side. "No, they're still following but they're very far behind." Even as he looked the pursuing ships shrank visibly, steadily losing ground.

"What's the relative speed?" said Jordan. He looked at the dials, tapped them, pounded on them, but the speed wouldn't change. If it hadn't been confirmed by the screen he'd have said that the needles were stuck or the instruments were completely unreliable.

"What did you do with the rockets?" demanded Docchi.

"That's a foolish question. What could I do? We were already at top speed for this piece of junk."

And there was no way to explain the astonishing thing that had happened. They were all in the control compartment, Cameron, Anti, Jordan and himself. Nona was there too, sitting huddled up, head resting in her arms. There was no explanation at all, unless--Docchi scanned all the instruments again. That was when he first noticed it.

Power was pouring into the gravity drive. The useless, or at least long unused dial was indicating unheard of consumption. "The gravity drive is working," Docchi said.

"Nonsense," said Anti. "I don't feel the weight."

"You don't and won't," said Docchi. "The gravity drive was installed to propel the ship. When it was proved unsatisfactory for that purpose it was converted, which was cheaper than removing it.

"The difference between the drive and ordinary gravity is slight but important. An _undirected_ general field produces weight effects inside the ship. That's for passenger comfort. A _directed_ field, outside it, will drive it. You can have one or the other but not both."

"But I didn't turn on the drive," said Jordan in bewilderment. "It wouldn't work for more than a few seconds if I did. That's been proven."

"I'd agree with you except for one thing. It is working, has been working and shows no sign of stopping." Docchi stared speculatively at Nona. She was curled up but she wasn't resting. Her body was too tense. "Get her attention," he said.

Jordan gently touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes but she wasn't looking at them. On the panel the needle of a once useless dial rose and fell.

"What's the matter with the poor dear?" asked Anti. "She's shaking."

"Let her alone," said Docchi. "Let her alone if you don't want to return to the asteroid." No one moved. No one said anything. Minutes passed and the ancient ship creaked and quivered and ran away from the fastest rockets in the system.

"I think I can explain it," said Docchi at last, frowning because he couldn't quite. There were things that still eluded him. "Part of the gravity generating plant--in a sense the key component--is an electronic computer, capable of making all the calculations and juggling the proportion of power required to produce directed or undirected gravity continuously. In other words a brain, a complex mechanical intelligence. But it was an ignorant intelligence and it couldn't see why it should perform ad infinitum a complicated and meaningless routine. It couldn't see why and because it couldn't very simply it refused to do so.

"It was something like Nona. She's deaf, can't speak, can't communicate in any way. Like it she has a very high potential intelligence and also, in the very same way, she's had difficulty grasping the facts of her environment. Differently though, she does have some contact with people and she has learned something. How much she knows is uncertain but it's far beyond what psychologists credit her with. They just can't measure her type of knowledge."

"Yeah," said Jordan dubiously. "I'll agree about Nona. But what is she doing?"

"If there were two humans you'd call it telepathy," said Docchi. It upset his concepts too. A machine was a machine--a tool to be used. How could there ever be rapport? "One intelligence is electronic, the other organic. You'll have to dream up your own term because the only thing I can think of is extra sensory perception. It's ridiculous but that's what it is."

Jordan smiled and flexed his arms. Under the shapeless garment muscles rippled. "To me it makes sense," he said. "The power was always there but they didn't know what to do with it." The smile broadened. "It couldn't have fallen into better hands. We can use the power, or rather Nona can."

"Power?" said Anti, rising majestically. "If you mean by that what it sounds like, I don't care for it. All I want is just enough to take us to Centauri."

"You'll get there," said Docchi. "A lot of things seem clearer now. In the past why did the drive work so poorly the further out it got? I don't think anyone investigated this aspect but if they had I'm sure they'd have found that the efficiency was inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the sun.

"It's what you'd expect from a deaf, blind, mass sensitive brain, the gravity computer. It wouldn't be aware of the stars. To it the sun would seem the center of the universe and it would no more leave the system than our remote ancestors would think of stepping off the edge of a flat world.

"And now that it knows differently the drive ought to work anywhere. With Nona to direct it, even Sirius isn't far."

"What are you thinking about, doc?" said Jordan carelessly. "If I were you I'd be figuring a way to get off the ship. Remember we're going faster than man ever went before." He chuckled. "Unless, of course, you _like_ our company and don't want to leave."

"We've got to do some figuring ourselves," said Docchi. "There's no use heading where there are no stars. We'd better determine our destination."

"A good idea," said Jordan, hoisting himself up to the charts. He busied himself with interminable calculations. Gradually his flying fingers slowed and his head bent lower over the work. Finally he stopped, his arms hanging slack.

"Got it?"

"Yeah," said Jordan. "There." Dully he punched the telecom selector and a view took shape on the screen. In the center glimmered a tiny world, a fragment of a long exploded planet. The end of their journey was easily recognizable.

It was Handicap Haven.

"But why are we going there?" asked Anti. She looked at Docchi in amazement.

"We're not going voluntarily," he said, his voice flat and spent. "That's where the Medicouncil wants us. We forgot about the monitor system. When Nona activated the gravity drive it was indicated at some central station. All the Medicouncil had to do was take the control away from Nona."

"We thought we were running away from the ships," said Anti. "We were, but only to beat them back to the junkpile."

"Yeah," said Docchi. "Nona doesn't know it yet."

"Well, it's over. We did our best. There's no use crying about it." Yet she was. Anti passed by the girl, patting her gently. "It's all right, darling. You tried to help us."

Jordan followed her from the compartment. Cameron remained, coming over to Docchi. "Everything isn't lost," he said awkwardly. "The rest of you are back where you started but at least Nona isn't."

"Do you think she'll benefit?" asked Docchi. "Someone will, but it won't be Nona."

"You're wrong. Suddenly she's become important."

"So is a special experimental machine. Very valuable but totally without rights or feelings. I don't imagine she'll like her new status."

Silence met silence. It was the doctor who turned away. "You're sick with disappointment," he said thickly. "Irrational, you always are when you glow. I thought we could talk over what was best for her but I can see it's no use. I'll come back when you're calmer."

Docchi glared sightlessly after him. Cameron was the only normal who was aware that it was Nona who controlled the gravity drive. All the outside world realized was that it was in operation--that at last it was working as originally intended. If they should dispose of Cameron--

He shook his head. It wouldn't solve anything. He could fool them for a while, pretend that he was responsible. But in the end they'd find out. Nona wasn't capable of deception--and they'd be very insistent with a discovery of this magnitude.

She looked up and smiled. She had a right to be happy. Until now she had been alone as few people ever are. But the first contact had been made and however unsatisfactory--what could the limited electronic mind say?--in other circumstances it might have presaged better days. She didn't know she was no less a captive than the computer.

Abruptly he turned away. At the telecom he stopped and methodically kicked it apart, smashing delicate tubes into powder. Before he left he also demolished the emergency radio. The ship was firmly in the grip of the monitor and it would take them back. There was nothing they had to do. All that remained for him was to protect Nona as long as he could. The Medicouncil would start prying into her mind soon enough. He hoped they'd find what they were after without too much effort. For her sake he hoped they would.

6

Perfectly synchronized to their speed the outer shell of the dome opened, closing behind them before they reached the inner shell. It too gaped wide to swallow them, snapping shut like a quickly sprung trap. Jordan set the controls in neutral and dropped his hands, muttering to himself. They glided to a stop over the landing pit, thereafter settling slowly. Homecoming.

"Cheer up," said Cameron jauntily. "You're not prisoners."

Nona alone seemed not to mind. Docchi hadn't said anything for hours and the light was gone from his face. Anti wasn't with them; she was back floating in the acid tank. The reentry into the gravity field of the asteroid made it necessary.

The ship scraped gently; they were down. Jordan mechanically touched a lever, flicked a switch. Passenger and freight locks swung open. "Let's go," said Cameron. "I imagine there's a reception committee for us."

Even he was surprised at what was waiting. The little rocket dome held more ships than normally came in a year. The precise confusion of military discipline was everywhere. Armed guards lined either side of the landing ramp and more platoons were in the distance. It was almost amusing to see how dangerous the Medicouncil considered them.

Near the end of the ramp a large telecom had been set up. If size indicated anything someone thought this was an important occasion. From the screen, larger than life, Medicouncilor Thorton looked out approvingly.

"A good job, Dr. Cameron," said the medicouncilor as the procession from the ship halted. "We were quite surprised at the escape of our accidentals and your disappearance which coincided with it. From what we were able to piece together, you followed them deliberately. A splendid example of quick thinking, doctor. You deserve recognition."

"I thought it was my fault for letting them get so far. I had to try to stop them."

"No doubt it was. But you atoned, you atoned. I'm sorry I can't be there in person to congratulate you but I'll arrive soon." The medicouncilor paused discreetly. "At first the publicity was bad, very bad. We thought it unwise to try to conceal it. Of course the broadcast made it impossible to hide anything. Fortunately the discovery of the gravity drive came along at just the right time. When we announced it opinion began swinging in our direction. I don't mind telling you the net effect is now in our favor."

"I hoped it would be," said Cameron. "I don't want them to be hurt. They're all vulnerable, Nona especially, because of what she is. I've thought quite a bit about how she should be approached----"

"I'm sure you have." The medicouncilor smiled faintly. "Don't let your emotions run away with you. In due time we'll discuss her. For the present see that she and the other accidentals are returned to their usual places. Bring Docchi to your office at once. He's to be questioned privately."

It was a strange request and mentally Cameron retreated. "Wait. Are you sure you want Docchi? He's the engineer but----"

"No objections, doctor," said Thorton sternly. "Important people are waiting. Don't spoil their good opinion of you." The telecom snapped into darkness.

"I think you heard what he said, Dr. Cameron." The officer at his side was very polite, perhaps because it emphasized the three big planets on his tunic.

"I heard," said Cameron irritably. "I don't want to argue with authority but since I'm in charge of this place I demand that you furnish a guard for this girl.

"So you're in charge?" drawled the officer. "You know I've got a funny feeling I'm commander here. My orders said I was to replace you until further notice. I haven't got that notice." He looked around at his men and crooked a finger. "Lieutenant, see that the little fella--Jordan, I think his name is--gets a lift back to the main dome. And you can walk the pretty lady to her room, or whatever it is she lives in. Don't get too personal though unless she encourages it." He smiled condescendingly at Cameron. "Anything else I can do to oblige a fellow commander?"

Cameron glanced at the guards. They were everywhere he looked, smartly uniformed, alert. There was no indication of amusement in the expressions of those near enough to have heard the conversation. They were well disciplined. "Nothing else, General," he said stonily. "Keep her in sight. You're responsible."

"So I am," remarked the officer pleasantly, winking at the lieutenant. "Let's go."

* * * * *

Medicouncilor Thorton was waiting impatiently on the screen in Cameron's office. The attitude suited him well, as if he'd tried many and found slightly concealed discourtesy best for the personality of the busy executive. "We'll arrive in about two hours," he said immediately. "By this I mean a number of top governmental officials, scientists, and some of our leading industrialists. Their time is valuable so let's get on with this gravity business."

He caught sight of the commander. "General Judd, this is a technical matter. I don't think you'll be interested."

"Very well, sir. I'll stand guard outside."

The medicouncilor was silent until the door closed. "Sit down, Docchi," he said with unexpected solicitude, pausing to note the effect. "I can sympathize with you. Everything within your reach--and then to return here. Well, I can understand how you feel. But since you did come back I think we can arrange to do things for you."

Docchi stared at the screen. A spot of light pulsed in his cheek and then flared rapidly over his face. "You probably will," he said casually. "But what about theft charges? We stole a ship."

"A formality," declared the medicouncilor with earnest simplicity. "With a thing like the discovery, or rediscovery, of the gravity drive, no one's going to worry about an obsolete ship. How else could you test your theories except by trying them out in actual flight?"

The medicouncilor was dulcet, coaxing. "I don't want to mislead you. Medically we can't do any more for you than we have. However you'll find yourself the center of a more adequate social life. Friends, work, whatever you want. In return for this naturally we'll expect your cooperation."

"Wait," said Cameron, walking to the screen and standing squarely in front of it. "I don't think you realize Docchi's part----"

"Don't interrupt," glowered Thorton. "I want to reach an agreement at once. It will look very good for us if we can show these famous people how well we work with our patients. Now, Docchi, how much of the drive can you have on paper by the time we land?"

"He can't have anything," Cameron started shouting. "I tried to tell you--he doesn't know----"

"Look out," cried Thorton too late.

Cameron's knees buckled and he clutched his legs in pain. Again Docchi kicked out and the doctor fell down. Docchi aimed another savage blow with his foot that grazed the back of Cameron's head. Blood trickled from his mouth and he stopped trying to get up.

"Docchi," screeched Thorton, but there was no answer.

Docchi crashed through the door. The commander was lounging against the wall, looking around vacantly. Head down Docchi plunged into him. The toaster fell from his belt to the floor. With scarcely a pause Docchi stamped on it and continued running.

The commander got up, retrieving the weapon. He aimed it at the retreating figure and would have triggered it except that it didn't feel right in his hand. He lowered it and quickly examined the damaged mechanism. Sweating, he slipped it gingerly into a tunic pocket.

Muffled shouts were coming from Cameron's office, growing in vehemence. The general broke in.

The medicouncilor glared at him from the screen. "I see that you let him get away."

The disheveled officer straightened his uniform. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think he had that much life in him. I'll alert the guards immediately."

"Never mind now. Revive that man."

The general wasn't accustomed to resuscitation; saving lives was out of his line. Nevertheless in a few minutes Cameron was conscious, though somewhat dazed.

"Now, doctor, who does know something about the gravity drive if it isn't Docchi?"

Cameron shook his head groggily. "It was an easy mistake," he said. "Cut off from communication with us the drive began to work. How, why, who did it? Mostly who. Not me, I'm a doctor, not a physicist. Nor Jordan; he's at best a mechanic. Therefore it had to be Docchi because he's an engineer." He stopped to wipe the blood from his cheek.

"For God's sake tell me," said Thorton. "It couldn't be----"

"No," said Cameron with quiet satisfaction. "It wasn't Anti either. The last person you'd think of. The little deaf and dumb girl the psychologists wouldn't bother with."

"Nona?" said Thorton incredulously.

"I told you," said Cameron and proceeded to tell him more, filling in the details.

"I see. We overlooked that possibility," said the medicouncilor gravely. "Not the mechanical genius of an engineer. Instead the strange telepathic sense of a girl. That puts the problem in a different light."

"It's not so difficult though." Cameron rubbed the lump on the back of his head. The hair was bristling, clotted with blood. "She can't tell us how she does it. We'll have to find out by experiment, but it won't involve any danger. The monitor can always control the drive."

The medicouncilor laughed shakily, teetering backward. "The monitor is worth exactly nothing. We tried it. For a microsecond it seemed to take over as it always has on other units--but this gravity generator slipped away. We thought Docchi found a way to disengage the control circuit."

"But it wasn't Docchi who told the computer how to do it."

"We figured it out when we thought it was Docchi," growled the medicouncilor wearily. "He was sensible, that's all. It was the only reasonable thing a man could do, come back and take advantage of his discovery." He shook his head in perplexed disgust. "Why the girl returned is beyond me."

"Do you think----" said Cameron and then wished he'd left it unsaid.

"Yes, by God, I do think." The medicouncilor's fist crashed down. "Docchi knows why. He found out in this room and we told him. As soon as he knew he escaped."

Panic slipped into Thorton's face and then was gone, covered over almost at once by long habits of sudden decisions. "She could have taken the ship anywhere she wanted and we couldn't stop her. Since she's here voluntarily it's obvious what she wants--the asteroid."

The medicouncilor tried to shove himself out of the screen. "Don't you ever think, General? There's no real difference between gravity generators except size and power. What she did on the ship she can do as easily here."

"Don't worry," said the startled officer. "I'll get her. I'll find the girl and Docchi too."

"Never mind him," choked the medicouncilor. "I don't care how you do it. Take Nona at once, without delay."

The time had passed for that command. The great dome overhead trembled and creaked in countless joints. But the structure held though unexpected stresses were imposed on it. And the tiny world shivered, groaning and grumbling at the orbit it had lain too long in. Already that was changing--the asteroid began to move.

7

Vague shapes were stirring. They walked if they could, crawled if they couldn't--fantastic and near-fantastic creatures were coming to the assembly. Large or tiny, on their own legs or borrowed ones they arrived, with or without arms, faces. The news had spread fast, by voice or written message, sign language, lip reading, all the conceivable ways that humans communicate, not the least of which was the vague intuition that something was going on that the person should know about. The people on Handicap Haven sensed the emergency.

"Remember it will be hours or perhaps days before we're safe," said Docchi. His voice was hoarse but he hadn't noticed it yet. "It's up to us to see that Nona has all the time she needs."

"Where is she hiding?" asked someone in the crowd.

"I don't know. I wouldn't tell you if I did. They might pry it out of you. Right now our sole job is to keep them from finding her."

"How?" demanded someone else near the front. "Do you expect us to fight the guards?"

"Not directly," said Docchi. "We have no weapons for that, no armament. Many of us have no arms in another sense. All we can do is to obstruct their search. Unless someone can think of something better, this is what I plan:

"I want all the men, older women and the younger ones who aren't suitable for reasons I'll explain later. The guards won't be here for half an hour--it will take that long to get them together and give them orders. When they do come the first group will attempt to interfere in every possible way with their search.

"How you do it I'll leave to your imagination. Appeal to their sympathy as long as they have any. Put yourself in dangerous situations. They have ethics and at first they'll be inclined to help you. When they do, try to steal their weapons. Avoid physical violence as much as you can. We don't want to force them into retaliation--they'll be so much better at it. Make the most of this phase of their behavior. It won't last long."

Docchi paused to look over the crowd. "Each of you will have to decide for himself when to drop passive resistance and start the real battle. Again, you may be able to think of more things than I can tell you but here are some suggestions. Try to disrupt the light, scanning and ventilation systems. They'll be forced to keep them in repair. Perhaps they'll even attempt to guard all the strategic points. So much the better for us--there'll be fewer guards to contend with."

"What about me?" called a woman from far in back. "What can I do?"

"You're in for a rough time," Docchi promised. "Is Jeriann here?"

Jeriann elbowed her way through the crowd to his side. Docchi glanced at her. He'd seen her many times but never so close. It was hard to believe that she should be here with the rest of them. "Jeriann," said Docchi to the accidentals, "is a normal pretty woman--outwardly. However she has no trace of a digestive system. The maximum time she can go without food and fluid absorption is ten hours. That's why she's with us and not on Earth."

Docchi scanned the group. "I'm looking for a miracle. Is there a cosmetechnician who thinks she can perform one? Bring your kit."

A legless woman propelled herself forward. Docchi conferred at length with her. At first she was startled, reluctant to try but after persuasion she consented. Under her deft fingers Jeriann was transformed. When she turned around and faced the crowd she was no longer herself--she was Nona.

"She can get away with the disguise longer and therefore she'll be the first Nona they find," explained Docchi. "I think--hope--that they'll call off the search for a few hours after they take her. Eventually they'll find out she isn't Nona when they can't get her to stop the drive. Fingerprints or x-rays would reveal it at once but they'll be so sure they have her that it won't occur to them. Nona is impossible to question as you know and Jeriann will give as good an imitation as she can.

"As soon as they discover that the girl they have is Jeriann they won't bother to be polite. Guards will like the idea of finding attractive girls they can manhandle in the line of duty especially if they think it will help them find Nona. It won't, but I think they'll get too enthusiastic and that in itself will hold up the search."

No one moved. The women in the crowd were still, looking at each other in silent apprehension. Jordan started them. He twisted his head, grimacing. "Let's get busy," he said somberly.

"Wait," said Docchi. "I have one Nona. I need more volunteers, at least fifty. It doesn't matter whether the person is physically sound or not, we'll raid the lab for plastic tissue. If you're about her size and can walk and have at least one arm come forward."

And slowly, singly and by twos and threes, they came to the platform. There were few indeed who wouldn't require liberal use of camouflage. It was primarily on these women their hopes rested.

The other group followed Jordan out, looking at Docchi for some sign. When he gave them none they hurried on determinedly. He could depend on them. The sum total of their ingenuity would produce some results.

Mass production of an individual. Not perfect in every instance--good enough to pass in most. Docchi watched critically, suggesting occasional touches that improved the resemblance. "She can't speak or hear," he reminded the volunteers. "Remember it at all times no matter what they do. Don't scream for help, we won't be able to. Hide in difficult places. After Jeriann is taken and the search called off and then resumed, let yourselves be found, one at a time. We can't communicate with you and so you'll just have to guess when it's your turn. You should be able to tell by the flurry of activity. That will mean they've discovered the last person they captured wasn't Nona. Every guard that has to take you in for examination is one less to search for the girl they really want. They'll have to find Nona soon or get off the asteroid."