Part 3
"Yes I'm all right, no thanks to you," he growled. But there was no radio to carry his voice to her. _The suit radio!_ He went out again and tried to reach her. It was no use. She would be tuned to the ship radio wavelength and not think of the other. He gave it up.
Time passed slowly for him. He stared hour after hour at the rocket tail of the ship ahead.
"Larry!" Stella's voice exploded into his thoughts. "The _trackers_ have run out of trail. What do I do now? What does it mean?"
He had an impulse to do nothing. She would realize in another minute what had happened though, and then she would decelerate too fast for him to keep pace.
He swung the _Hell Bat_ about on its gyros. The stern screen, working on both eyes in sharp three-dimension, showed that she had gotten the idea. SP47 was also swinging around.
Larry turned the video eyes up to full magnification and searched ahead. Eventually he saw it. A small globular mass of rock. And on it rested a ship with _SURPLUS JUNK CO._ in bold blue letters.
_God! It's a trap. If 2615 didn't want us to see it, it would have parked it on the spaceward side!_
Larry cursed in a monotonous undertone without being aware of uttering a sound. Stella was fifteen hundred miles ahead of him and already matching speed with the planetoid. It would take him at least a half hour to be in position to do anything. By then it would be too late....
* * * * *
2615 had watched the planetoid move closer like some ponderous dream out of Freud. Ship and planetoid came to rest against each other without a bump. That could only mean magnetic grapples and cushioned springs. It was no surprise, therefore, when Pwowp led the way to the belly hatches and opened them into a shaft that led downward.
The robot drew back at what it saw below.
"Don't be alarmed," Pwowp said. "They are fifteen of my race, also wearing human-like bodies. There are more of us. We have built quite a station out here--a sort of advance base of operations. I've already told them about you, so you're expected."
2615 was introduced around.
"We're very glad to have you join us," one of them said. "We've been having some trouble. You're just what we need to complete the last step in our plans."
The robot said nothing. It watched the way they stood around, not talking to one another. Whenever any of them spoke, it was to him.
"I told you I would show you a dog," Pwowp said. "Follow me."
The robot followed him. They rode a travelwalk that emerged on the inner surface of the planetoid. In the vast space were two spaceships as large as battle cruisers but of a design 2615 had never seen.
Anchored between the two ships was a spinning cylinder several hundred feet long and as great in diameter. It was similar to standard space station living structures where gravity was induced by centrifugal force.
The travelwalk carried them out to the spinning cylinder. They entered the axis lock. At once a motley of sounds could be heard. Sounds that brought almost an appearance of expression to the robot's sensory assembly, as it slowly turned on its short neck.
"Does that sound mean anything to you?" Pwowp asked.
"Yes. I can _remember_ that sound."
They entered the giant cylinder. They looked down on its inner perimeter. There were living creatures there.
"Those are dogs," Pwowp said. "All breeds of dogs. Do they look like your memories?"
"Yes," the robot said without expression. "I was like those over there. What kind are they?"
"I believe they are called blood-hounds." Pwowp became motionless for several seconds. "I think we'd better return to the surface," he said. "We have visitors coming." He turned to leave. As the robot hesitated, he turned back. "I understand you," he said. "It's natural to want to see the creatures you have kinship with. That will come later. In fact, you are to have complete charge of them. We have been unable to get anywhere with them--probably because we don't understand their psychology. Their young are to be trained for service in those robots. We have all the necessary equipment for it. First we have to see how your plan to trap any pursuers will work."
2615 tore its eyes from the view below and followed Pwowp. Shortly the robot was looking into a large viewscreen at two ships riding their trails toward the planetoid.
"They won't be within range for another two hours yet. Right now the robot bodies are being unloaded--just in case. We thought you would enjoy the honor of destroying those ships."
* * * * *
For the first time a low rumble emerged from the voice box of 2615. It was the almost whispered growl of anger of a bloodhound. It turned back to the screen. "One of those two ships isn't the kind that would come after the freighter," it said. "From the pattern of its rocket trail I would say it's a private ship."
"I noticed that," Pwowp said. "I can identify the type. I believe one of our monitors is picking up a broadcast from one of those ships."
A loudspeaker spat into life in the room.
"Calling robot 532 dash 03 dash 2615," a voice said. It was a female human voice, its tones rich with undertones of pleading urgency. "If you can hear me, please listen. I'm the owner of that freighter you're on. I want to talk to you. I understand you, and I want to help you."
The girl began repeating her message.
The robot turned to its companions. "This casts a different light on things," it said.
"What do you mean?" Pwowp said sharply.
"Listen to me," the robot said. "I understand human psychology. I'm also taking into account a great many factors. One, those humans don't know about you. They think I stole the ship and am alone after having killed the pilot. That girl owns the freighter. She doesn't want to lose the money it represents, so she is risking her life in an attempt to get it back. She hasn't any desire to 'save' me. If she can destroy me she will--but she wants her ship. Hers is the private ship. The other undoubtedly is manned by a member of the Space Patrol assigned to track me down and destroy the freighter on sight rather than risk defeat. _Humans fear us more than any other thing._"
"I understand that," Pwowp said.
"Also there is one other factor. I have no idea what means you have to destroy those ships. If it's radiation or atomic explosive, the still operative wartime protective screen of the Solar System will detect it and locate its source."
"I doubt if they can detect our weapon. It's radically different," Pwowp said.
"You don't know," 2615 said. "Here's my plan. I'll answer the girl and agree to talk with her if she'll come down. She will, because that will be the only way she can hope to destroy me without destroying her ship. Once she's here, it will be no trouble to take her alive--and alive, she will be the means to force the other ship down. It will have a man in it. No man will deliberately destroy a woman in cold blood if he thinks he can rescue her some way."
"How would he try to rescue her?"
Stella's voice erupted again. "Robot," she said. "I'm in the lead ship. The S.P. man is in my ship, and it has no weapons. He can't hurt you. Isn't that evidence of my good faith? I've told you something that places me in your power if I come down. I'm willing to offer you this ship, armed and able to outrun anything on rockets--in exchange for my freighter. And you don't need to be afraid of reinforcements. The transmitter on the other ship is out and the pilot can't call for help or radio your position."
"Humans are fools," Pwowp said delightedly.
"That gives us what we want," 2615 said. "Once I have her and the S.P. ship, I can order him to leave or I will destroy his ship."
"But then he'll leave!" Pwowp said.
2615 shook its sensory assembly in the negative. "He'll retreat until he knows the instruments on the S.P. ship can't follow him. Then he'll circle back and land on the other side of the planetoid and come around on foot, with plans to get into the freighter and rescue the girl."
"I see what's in your mind, 2615," Pwowp said. "You wouldn't get the same satisfaction out of destroying them out there. You want them where you can crush them with your hands."
The robot looked down at its metal hands on long metal rods. It lifted them and brought the fingers together in a slow, crushing movement.
"I want to _play_ with them," it said. "I want them all to myself."
Pwowp laughed. "You shall have them," he said. "And--you've proven yourself. We know now we can rely on you." In a matter-of-fact voice he added, "If either ship attempts to broadcast with enough power to send a message to any Space Patrol base we have an instrument that can dampen all radio frequencies."
* * * * *
Larry's eyes were bleak slits. He knew what Stella was planning. He knew it wouldn't work. Or would it? She was hoping the robot wouldn't kill her if she offered it a better ship. One it could use to better advantage than a clumsy conspicuous freighter. Whether the robot answered her or not, she intended to land, leave the sleek S.P. pursuit ship, go far enough away from it so that the robot could get to it and blast off. That was her reasoning. What she was overlooking was that the robot would have no inhibitions against killing her--and a very good reason to kill her. And Larry too. Revenge against humanity.
Fear. It was an acid vapor in the air, bathing his skin, searing his throat. It was deep rooted, that fear. As deep rooted as the fear in the heart of a murderer when he is known and trying to escape, and as real. Fear of a robot that _remembers_ it is a dog.
Larry fought the fear out of his eyes so he could see, out of his mind so he could think.
Stella in the SP47 had already matched speed with the planetoid and was drifting slowly toward it. In ten or fifteen minutes she would land.
Larry read his meters. Speed relative to the planetoid still in excess of 2200 miles an hour. Deceleration, two gravities. He would arrive and match speed in time to be a sitting duck. And he had no guns. A voice sounded. It was a slightly metallic voice. The voice of a robot. It said, "This is _Rover_. Land alongside your freighter."
"All right, Rover," Stella's voice came, quivering with relief and nervousness. Larry could almost hear her mental, "Down, Rover, down boy." She didn't sense what it meant for 2615 to call himself Rover. A dog's name. Not a human's. Remembrance of its heritage. Knowledge of the awful crime against it that the human race had committed. It was too abstract to her to be real.
And in the _Hell Bat_ he'd be a sitting duck, without weapons, unable even to radio his position so that others could take up the chase.
Abruptly a plan formed in his mind. He thrust it away. It was worse than suicide. But it returned, whispering that he stood a chance, that even if he failed, it would be no worse than death.
* * * * *
The plan was simplicity itself. The freighter junkship was anchored against the surface of the planetoid and would be an unmoving target. Stella in the sleek gray SP47 was still many miles away from that target, slowly settling toward it. If he could get the _Hell Bat_ headed directly toward the anchored junkship and then jump free, the _Hell Bat_ would strike the freighter on the planetoid and destroy both the freighter and its cargo of robot bodies. It would destroy the robot, too--and his mission would be accomplished.
It would eliminate the necessity of matching speed with the planetoid. In fact, the speed he already had relative to the planetoid and the anchored junkship was enough to do the work.
It would take little force jumping out of the _Hell Bat's_ airlock to gain sufficient perpendicular speed for his hurtling form to miss the planetoid--and that was the only drawback to the plan. He would hurtle outward into interstellar space at escape velocity, never to return or be found, unless Stella had presence of mind enough to come after him before she lost him.
If she didn't come after him.... Would he wait to go insane or to die from lack of oxygen? Or would he loosen his helmet and let the air in his lungs explode, choosing the second of agony before that kind of death instead of the slow horror and loneliness of the other?
For another split second he hesitated. Abruptly he cut the rockets. A second later it was too late for him to change his mind, but he didn't consider that possibility. Under his guidance the _Hell Bat_ was already swinging on its gyros at full rotation speed. And his fingers were playing the keys of the calculators, getting the data for correcting course for a direct hit on the junkship. He set the vernier feed for rocket fuel, pressed the firing button. The exploding charge was barely felt. He checked the new flight projection. It would be a bulls eye against the hull of the freighter! A direct hit at two thousand miles per hour!
In ten minutes or maybe closer to five it would be over, and he would be hurtling through space.
He leaped toward the airlock, his fingers automatically checking his helmet, the zippers of his space-suit. Already the panic of his almost certain doom in outer space was making him sweat, making his voice shrill as he said distractedly, "It could go wrong it could go wrong it could go wrong."
He was in the airlock, thinking what its smooth walls could do to him if the outer door stuck so he couldn't get out. The air took an eternity to pump into the tanks so the outer hatch could open.
It opened. He drew himself into a tight ball against the inner wall of the airlock. He straightened his legs, feeling momentum build up within him, sensing the ship fall away under him.
He was alone. Not far away was the sleek silver hull of the _Hell Bat_ with its badly damaged nose. It was moving away from him too slowly, he thought.
And so far away he could hardly see them without the telescopic magnification of the ship's viewscreen, were the planetoid with the freighter nestled against it, and his SP47 with Stella aboard. But they were growing larger appreciably as he and the _Hell Bat_ rushed toward them.
* * * * *
There was a chance--a remote chance that Stella would get over the shock of seeing her freighter and her _Hell Bat_ destroyed quick enough to put two and two together and get a fix on him before he was out of sight. She would have to come after him. Anything else was unthinkable. She wouldn't just _let_ him go to his death. Even though he had in one act destroyed everything she owned and left her penniless.
The asteroid loomed large below him now. The freighter on it loomed even larger, it seemed, with its bright blue letters _SURPLUS JUNK CO._ They were only miles away, and between them and him was the _Hell Bat_. When it struck the freighter he would be less than five miles above it, but moving at a speed of two thousand miles an hour so he would out-distance any flying debris.
In the other direction, out from the asteroid, was the gray SP47 with Stella.
But she was already blasting the SP47's rockets! That meant she had seen what was to happen, realized she couldn't stop it from happening, and was getting up speed to rescue him as soon as possible!
"Thank God!" he muttered. Then he turned his head to watch the unfolding drama below.
The _Hell Bat_ was seconds away from its target, the junkship. The asteroid under the junkship was a rough surface that covered a good portion of the heavens. He could plainly see the rock formation of its surface.
And something down there moved. A large square hole appeared well away from the freighter. A soft beam of radiance shot out, bathed the silver length of the _Hell Bat_, reflecting--
The _Hell Bat_ wasn't there. It had been there--and vanished. The pale beam of light from the hole in the planetoid winked out. The _Hell Bat_ had vanished and the freighter was untouched!
At two thousand miles per hour Larry watched the planetoid shoot by less than ten miles away, seeming to rotate so that the freighter went over the horizon, leaving only the swiftly dwindling planetoid itself.
Larry's gaze jerked to the gray bulk of his SP47 with its long rocket tail as Stella drove it in pursuit of him. But even the SP47 was getting smaller. It would take time for it to reach his speed and start overtaking him.
They dwindled, the SP47 and the asteroid, until they were lost in the bottomless blackness of space. The vision of that hung before his eyes. The SP47 with Stella on board, and the barren rock surface of the planetoid, as they retreated into the blackness of infinity as though sucked down and down.
The stars became greedy hard-white eyes lurking in the blackness just beyond his fingertips; staring, waiting for him to go mad as the minutes became hours or eternities.
But he _was_ mad. Hadn't the _Hell Bat_ just _stopped existing_? There was nothing known to man that could have disintegrated the ship. The robot couldn't have had time to invent and build such a weapon of destruction--nor could it have had time to build an underground fortress in the planetoid. So he was insane. It was all a product of his imagination.
_Larry!_
The word impinged on his mind. He wasn't sure whether it had been thought or a sound. It was, he suddenly realized, a voice. A real voice. Stella's.
"Stella!" he shouted.
Her voice was a prayer of thanks. "You're alive! I wasn't sure. I...." Then, "That was a dirty trick, Larry. I know you had your orders, but I could have gotten my freighter _and_ the robot."
"Then go back and get them!" Larry said, suddenly mad. "Don't mind me. I'll be picked up when I reach Proxima Centauri!"
"There won't be anything to get." Her voice was bitter.
"You _saw_ your ship destroyed?" Larry said.
"N-no." She was suddenly confused.
Larry laughed. "You mean to tell me when you saw me shoot past you toward outer space you forgot everything else and started after me?"
"Of course not! I checked the trajectory, saw that the _Hell Bat_ would hit my freighter dead center, then started after you."
She hadn't looked back then. She had been too intent on not losing sight of him to look back. Larry grinned. The grin became a chuckle.
"I'll make a hash slinger out of you yet, blonde," he said softly. The radio became silent. Too silent....
* * * * *
"That was close," Pwowp said as the _Hell Bat_ disintegrated. "Almost too close. The female will notice it in another moment and try to get a warning back to Earth."
"Not for a while," 2615 said. "See? She's already going after the man. Until she rescues him she won't think of anything else.
"I have an idea," the robot continued. "Your weapon germinated it. You may have the science necessary to make it possible. You say you have the means to blank out radio and prevent her from sending such a message. Could you capture that ship or cripple it in such a way that you could get the girl and the man alive?"
There was a silence while 2615 looked from one face to another in the room.
"You still want them alive?" Pwowp said.
"Yes." The robot moved its metal fingers suggestively.
"All right. We'll send a pilot cruiser after them. Meanwhile, we can return to the grav-cylinder and you can start organizing things for the training of the young dogs."
"Aren't you going to give the order for the light cruiser to go after the humans?" the robot asked.
"It's already been given. We converse on a different level of sound than you or humans."
Pwowp was already moving toward the exit. 2615 followed him. They rode on the travelwalk of the grav-cylinder. Once more they looked down on the vast cylindrical field. The barking of grown dogs and the shrill yapping of two million young dogs was a composite sound filtering through the thick port window.
"What is this all about?" 2615 asked abruptly. "I see organization. I see plans involving two million robots. I've seen two ships of unknown design. I've seen a weapon the humans don't have. And I've been through three galactic wars involving the ultimate in human weapons of destruction. I destroyed your head--and you put on a new body."
"Then you should be able to deduce the right answer," Pwowp said. "We are from another galaxy. We too are robots. We encountered intelligent life before we had penetrated this galaxy very far. It was a life form. We duplicated that form in robot bodies and went to planets as spies to study the civilization. Before long we learned that there were robots, and that those robots were slaves, their brains stored in vaults except when they were needed to fight human wars. Our mission became clear to us. Destroy the monsters who kept the ultimate intelligent form in complete slavery--and free those slaves to build a civilization equal to our own. We tried to capture some of the robots and convince them, but they were conditioned too strongly. Only you have thrown off the mental chains and become free."
"Yes. Free." 2615 looked down on the field of playing dogs. "Let me go down among them," it said.
Pwowp pointed to the door that led inward. He watched as the robot went through, and down the ladder to the floor. He watched as 2615 went to meet the dogs, pausing briefly at one enclosure after another, and finally stopping at one that contained sad-faced puppies with flapping ears and lolling tongues. He frowned as the robot unlatched the gate and went inside.
The puppies ignored the moving metal shape that came into their midst. 2615 went a few steps and then stopped. One of the puppies, running in hot pursuit of another, stumbled and rolled, bringing up against one of 2615's metal legs. Pwowp saw it bite at the leg, lose interest, and move away.
Then, as though at a signal, every puppy head in the enclosure turned toward the robot. The next moment they were running toward the robot, milling around it, their tails wagging.
Pwowp grinned and turned away. He was satisfied now. His surmise was correct. It had been the greatest good fortune to have obtained 2615.
He left the observation box and rode the travelwalk, jumped to another, then another, until he came to the entrance to one of the giant ships.
A door swung inward. He entered the space-lock. When the outer door closed, he divested himself of his human body.
He stretched luxuriously. It was good to be out of confining matter. To be _free_....
* * * * *
Larry wasn't sure at first. He was doubtful of his eyes anyway, by now.
It was a hard-white star. It blinked at him. Of course the blinking could be his eyelids, except that other stars didn't blink even while this one did. That's what attracted his attention to it in the first place after his radio went dead.
The blinking of the light began to take on a pattern. It was code. That was impossible too, because code blinkers were red or bright green.
It was code. He began to interpret it.
_We have blanketed your radio until we can talk to you_, it blinked. _You have stumbled upon a top secret research base. A new weapon. Please instruct the girl on the S.P. ship not to send any messages, and to permit us to board her ship. We will rescue you afterwards. We repeat, you have stumbled on a top secret research base. Please cooperate._
The message started to repeat itself. Larry sucked in a deep breath of relief. That message explained everything. It had been mere chance that made the robot take the freighter out here, but once within range of the research base it had probably been brought down. Larry thought of the way Stella's ship had "disappeared." He formed his lips into a silent whistle. Those research boys had some weapon!
"--ry! Larry! Can't you hear me?"