Yonge stepped forward and moved between the robot and Bigman. "I can't allow this, Devoure. A robot must not do such a thing, even if for no other reason than that the stress of potential involved will ruin it."
But Devoure said in a hoarse whisper, "I'm your superior. If you make one move to stop me, I'll have you out of the Service by tomorrow."
The habit of obedience was strong. Yonge fell back, but there was a look of intense distress and horror on his face.
The robot moved more quickly, and now Bigman fell back a cautious step. "I'm a human being," he said.
"It is not human," cried Devoure madly. "It is not human. Break every piece of it. Slowly."
A chill fell over Bigman and left his mouth dry. He had not counted on this. A quick death, yes, but this…
There was no room to retreat, and he was without the escape his needle gun afforded. There were other robots behind, and all were hearing the word that he was not human.
12. Surrender
There was a smile on Devoure's puffed and bruised face. It must have hurt him, for one lip was split and he dabbed absently at it with his handkerchief, but his eyes were fixed on the robot moving toward Bigman and he seemed aware of nothing else.
The small Martian had only another six feet in which to retreat, and Devoure made no effort to hasten the approaching robot or to move up those in the rear.
Yonge said, "Devoure, for Sinus's sake, man, there is no need of this."
"No comments, Yonge," said Devoure tensely. "That humanoid has destroyed a robot and probably damaged others. We'll need checkups on every robot who has been affected by the sight of his use of violence. He deserves death."
Zayon put out a restraining hand toward Yonge, but the latter slapped it impatiently away. Yonge said, "Death? All right. Then ship him back to Sirius and have him tried and executed according to the processes of law. Or set up a trial here at the base and have him decently blasted. But this is no execution. Simply because he beat… "
Devoure cried in sudden fury, "That's enough! You have interfered once too often. You're under arrest. Zayon, take his blaster and toss it over to me."
He turned briefly, loath to take his eyes off Bigman for even a moment. "Do it, Zayon, or by all the devils of space I'll break you too."
With a bitter, wordless frown Zayon held out his hand to Yonge. Yonge hesitated, and his fingers curled about the butt of bis blaster, half drawing it in anger.
Zayon whispered urgently, "No, Yonge. Don't give him the excuse. He'll lift arrest when his madness is over. He'll have to."
Devoure called out, "I want that blaster."
Yonge ripped it out of its holster with a hand that trembled and thrust it butt-first at Zayon. The latter tossed it at Devoure's feet and Devoure picked it up.
Bigman, who had been maintaining an agonized silence as he watched futilely for a chance to dodge, to break away, now cried out, "Don't touch me, I'm a master," as the robot's monstrous hand closed over bis wrist.
For a moment the robot hesitated, and then his grip tightened. The other hand reached for Bigman's elbow. Devoure laughed, a high-pitched titter.
Yonge turned on his heel and said in a suffocated tone, "At least I don't have to watch this cowardly crime." And as a result he did not observe what happened next
With an effort Lucky remained calm when the three Sirians left. From a purely physical standpoint, he could not possibly beat down the robot with his bare hands. Somewhere in the building there might conceivably be a weapon he could use to destroy the robot; he could then get out and might even shoot down the three Sirians.
But he would not be able to leave Titan, nor win out against the entire base.
Worse still, if he were killed-and in the end he would be-his deeper purposes would be lost, and he could not risk those.
He said to the robot, "What happened to the master Bigman? State the essentials quickly."
The robot did, and Lucky listened with a tense and painful attention. He heard the robot's occasional slurring and lisping of words, the thickening of speech as it described Bigman's doubled forcing of the robots by pretending or threatening harm to a human.
Lucky groaned within. A robot dead. The force of Sirian law would be extended to the full against Bigman. Lucky knew enough about the Sirians' culture and their regard for their robots to know that there could be no extenuating circumstances against robot-icide.
How to save the impulsive Bigman now?
Lucky remembered his own halfhearted attempt to keep Bigman on Mimas. He had not foreseen this exactly, but he had feared Bigman's temper in the delicate circumstances now surrounding them. He should have insisted on Bigman's staying behind, but what was the use? Even as he thought this, he realized that he needed Bigman's company.
But then he had to save him. Somehow he had to save him.
He walked rapidly toward the opening of the building, and the robot stepped stolidly into his path. "Accor'ing to my instructions, the master's not to leave building under any thircumstances."
"I am not leaving the building," said Lucky sharply. "I am merely going to the door. You have no instructions to prevent that."
For a moment the robot was silent, then it said, "Ac-cor'ing to my instructions, the master's not to leave building under any circumthantheth."
Desperately Lucky tried to push it aside, was seized, held motionless, then pushed back.
Lucky bit his lip impatiently. A whole robot, he thought, would have interpreted its instructions broadly. This robot, however, had been damaged. It was reduced to the bare essence of robotic understanding.
But he had to see Bigman. He whirled toward the conference table. In its center there had been a trimen-sional image reproducer. Devoure had used it when the two Servicemen had called him.
"You. Robot!" called Lucky.
The robot lumbered to the table.
Lucky said, "How does the image reproducer work?"
The robot was slow. Its speech was continuing to thicken. It said, "The controlth are'n thith retheth."
"Which recess?"
The robot showed him, moving a panel aside clumsily.
"All right," said Lucky. "Can I focus on the area, just outside this building? Show me. Do it."
He stepped aside. The robot worked, fumbling at the knobs. "It ith done, mathter."
"Let me see, then." The area outside was in small image above the table, the figures of men smaller still. The robot had moved away and stared dully elsewhere.
Lucky did not call him back. There was no sound, but as he groped for what must be the sound control, his attention was caught by the fight that was going on. Devoure was fighting Bigman. Fighting Bigman!
How had the small imp managed to persuade the two Servicemen to stand to one side and allow this to happen? For of course Bigman was cutting his opponent to ribbons. Lucky could extract no joy from it.
This could end only in Bigman's death, and Lucky knew that Bigman realized that and didn't care. The Martian would court sure death, take any chance, to avenge an insult… Ah, one of the Servicemen was stopping it now.
With that, Lucky found the sound control. Words shot out of the image reproducer: Devoure's frenzied call for robots and his shouted order that they break Bigman.
For a split second Lucky was not sure he had heard correctly, and then he beat both fists desperately against the table and whirled about in near despair.
He had to get out, but how?
There he was, alone with a robot containing only one instruction buzzing in what was left of its posi-tronic brain paths: to keep Lucky immobilized at all costs.
Great Galaxy, was there nothing that would take precedence over that order? He lacked even a weapon with which to threaten suicide or kill the robot.
His eyes fell on the wall phone. He had last seen Zayon at it, something about emergency when the news about Bigman broke.
Lucky said, "Robot. Quickly. What has been done here?"
The robot approached, looked at the glowing combination of knobs in faint red, and said with tantalizing slowness, "A mathter hath indicated all robotth to prepare battle thathionth."