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 hings 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 bis 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 And. "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'ye 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 strait jacket."
Cameron laughed loudly. "Go ahead."
Jordan juggled the toaster. "I can use this to weld with. Let's put hi™ 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 And. "A doctor's word is as good as his oath—Hippocratic or hypocridc."
"Don't be cynical, And. Doctors have an economic sense as well as the next person," said Docchi. He turned to Cameron. "You see, after And 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, And 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."
"AU of them? Even the emergency pack?" "That too. He knew where everything was. Nothing can be repaired."
"So who cares?" rumbled And. "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 space-suits 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 foolhardy you're being?"
"Be quiet," growled Jordan. "Anti, explain what you've rigged up. I'm not sure we can let you do it."
"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 oh 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 a
ll 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'
F. L. Wallace Page 6
