Part 2

"You mustn't deny the danger for a minute, Joe," Bowen went on, gravely. "If ever the wrong people hear about that robot and get their hands on it, you're as good as dead! And the rest of the world will shortly be under the killer's thumb--"

"Father--" Barbara blurted impulsively. "Father, can't we--help him, somehow?"

Bowen raised his brows and grinned at his daughter. "Maybe for your sake, we'd better!" he exclaimed, chuckling.

Barbara fidgeted with embarrassment.

"I've been wondering about the people who sent the robot to you," Bowen resumed seriously. "But it seems that they weren't interested so much in what the robot might do to our world as they were in getting their experiment done. So this seems to be left entirely in your hands, Joe." He glanced up, his gray eyes boring into Joe's face. "Do you want to make your own decision about it, or do you want us to make a suggestion?"

Joe ran his fingers through his hair, nervously. "I'd--I'd appreciate anything you say, Mr. Bowen! Anything!"

But in the back of his mind--even as Bowen began speaking again--Joe felt the beginnings of an idea, a decision that formed and grew and flooded into his whole being with the exhilaration of a drug! Even as Bowen began speaking, Joe knew what he was going to do--what he _had_ to do--

* * * * *

The yellow convertible swung up over a shoulder and down the winding dirt road into a narrow valley. Ahead lay a small lake.

"Your summer cabin's on the south shore, you say?" Joe asked, tooling the big car down into the cool, tree-shaded lowland.

Bowen nodded, beside him. "I still think you ought to let me put my oxygen torch to that thing."

Joe grinned and slowed the car, whipping it off the road into a small clearing. A small, weatherbeaten cabin stood back among the pines. Beyond the clearing was the sandy shore and the lake.

"There's our cabin," Barbara acknowledged, as Joe headed the car toward it. He parked under the trees and they got out. He carried the bright globe under his arm.

"Well," Bowen said, facing him, "We're here, now. What is it you plan to do, Joe?"

Joe nodded toward the clearing. "I think I'd better do it out there," he said.

"It's wonderful up here on weekends," Barbara remarked, matching stride with them as they started toward the clearing. She was wearing brief shorts and a sweater, with a bright kerchief tied around her head. "There's swimming and fishing and no one to bother us. Father's always wished he could build a home up here--"

Joe stopped, turning to her father. "Have you?"

Bowen nodded, frowning. "Always wanted a quiet, little place for the day I retire--"

"Just a minute, then!" Joe faced back toward the cabin and steadied the robot. Deftly, he began typing: SMALL HOUSE FROM CABIN FOR MR. BOWEN, ALL CONVENIENCES, FURNISHED.

There was the blue glow and faint click from the globe--then, a thunderous crash from the trees! A strong gust of wind whipped waves across the mirror-surface of the lake.

It was a small, white stucco house, with a low, rock wall extending around a garden in front. Bright flowers bloomed in the garden, vines climbed the trellises at the little windows. The roof was bright red tile. Bowen stared back at it, his face tight, his gray eyes misting.

"There," Joe said kindly. "That should fix you up."

"I--I didn't ask for it!" Bowen protested stubbornly. "I didn't earn it!"

"Oh, but you will!" Joe grinned brightly. "You're going to earn it by not telling anyone about what I'm going to do out here!" Chuckling softly, he turned and trudged on out toward the clearing.

Barbara caught up with him and tugged at his arm. "Joe," she pleaded. "Please, Joe! Don't do anything you'll be sorry for--"

Then they stopped at the clearing's edge. Joe cradled the robot on his arm, touched his fingers to the keyboard--and paused, silent for a moment. "I'll never be sorry for doing this!" he said, finally, and began typing.

* * * * *

One minute, there was the small clearing, green grass waving gently in the warm afternoon sunshine. Then the very heavens seemed to split open and a giant thunderbolt came hurtling into the ground. The concussion almost knocked them off their feet.

And the next minute--

It was a long, silvery, torpedo-shaped hull, completely filling the small clearing. Rocket tubes jutted from its tapering tail; narrow fins creased its smooth flanks. A round airlock door stood open, waiting.

"A--A _rocket ship_!" Bowen gasped.

"More than that!" Joe was grinning as he moved out toward the open airlock. "She's equipped with water and air purifying devices and food synthesis tanks that'll supply one man as long as ten years! She has antigravity equipment that can lift her right off the Earth--and a rocket drive that'll accelerate to a velocity of two hundred and seventy-eight miles per second! That's roughly a million miles an hour! That means I can reach Mars' orbit in just over thirty hours!"

"But--but what're you going to _do_ with it?" Barbara stammered.

"Do?" Joe leaped into the airlock, his robot clutched under his arm, and faced them with a laugh. "I'm going to the only place I'll be safe, Barbara! And I'll find out who built the canals on Mars! And what mysteries lie below the cloud-blanket of Venus! And whether any of the moons of Jupiter are inhabitable--"

"Y-you mean," Bowen sputtered, "you're _going into space_?"

Barbara shook her head. "But--not _alone_!"

A shadow flicked across Joe's young features. Then he grinned easily. "Why not? I'm no longer safe among men--"

"But you _can't_ go alone!" she stormed. "You--Father! _I'm going with him!_"

"Barbara!" Bowen shouted. "What on earth--"

"Not on earth!" she cried, leaping forward. She landed in the narrow airlock, thrusting Joe back into its metal confines. She whirled back to her father, grabbing the door's levers to steady herself. "Not for long!" she added breathlessly. "Don't you see, father? He has to go--but he _can't go alone_! Someone has to be with him, to take care of him, to see that he eats his meals and--and I'm going with him! Goodbye, father! We'll--we'll be back!"

And tugging, panting, she swung the heavy door closed. It swung flush into the smooth, metal hull.

James Bowen stood transfixed, on the edge of the clearing. Behind him was the small, white house with the red roof and the little garden in front, as he watched the sleek, torpedo-shaped spaceship rise effortlessly from the ground and go skimming across the lake, climbing higher and higher until it dwindled to a silvery speck in the clear blue sky and vanished.

Then Bowen's face suddenly took on a new cast. There was a grim, satisfied light in his eyes as he followed the faint vapor trail up into the heavens. Slowly he reached a hand in his coat pocket. From it he withdrew a small metallic object. It was shaped oddly like a pocket radio, but of a more advanced and intricate design.

He depressed a small switch and the object glowed. About him there was the snap and crackle of powerful electrical forces. Bowen's voice suddenly sounded.

"Myytnor Skurle reporting to Headquarters on project Time Stress."

There was a blue crackle in the air about him. Then a distant voice intoned: "What is your report?"

He stared up at the sky, smiling, now. "I have personally seen Joe Linger on his way. My daughter accompanies him on the experiment. She will remain with the Earthman for his lifetime, keeping us informed as events progress. I believe she is attracted to him--however, that is a side issue, the main project having been successfully executed. Shall I return to Sol III?"

Again the blue crackle. "Our compliments, Myytnor Skurle. You may return."

The crackle faded and he made a further adjustment on the object he held. The smile was still on his face as he gazed into the sky after the space ship--and vanished....