"How would I indicate that all robots are actually to proceed to battle stations at once? Superseding all current orders?"
The robot stared at him, and Lucky, in almost a frenzy, seized the robot's hand and pumped it. "Tell me. Tell me."
Could the thing understand him? Or did its ruined brain paths still have impressed upon them some remnant of instructions that prevented it from giving this information?"
"Tell me! Or do it, do it."
The robot, not speaking, reached a finger toward the apparatus in an uneven movement and slowly depressed two buttons. Then its finger lifted an inch and stopped.
"Is that all? Are you done?" demanded Lucky desperately.
But the robot merely turned and with an uneven tread (one foot dragging perceptibly) walked to the door and marched out.
In space-devouring strides Lucky dashed after him, out of the building and across the hundred yards separating him from Bigman and the three Sirians.
Yonge, having turned in horror from what he expected would be the bloodcurdling destruction of a human being, did not hear the scream of agony he expected. Instead there was a startled grunt from Zayon and a wild cry from Devoure.
He turned back. The robot that had been holding Bigman was holding him no more. He was moving away ini a heavy run. All the robots in sight were hastening away.
And the Earthman, Lucky Starr, was now at Big-man's side, somehow.
Lucky was bending over Bigman, and the small Martian, rubbing his left arm vigorously, was shaking his head. Yonge heard him say, "One minute later, Lucky; just one minute later and… "
Devoufe was shouting hoarsely and uselessly at the robots, and then a loud-speaker arrangement suddenly filled the air with clamor:
COMMANDER DEVOURE, INSTRUCTIONS PLEASE. OUR INSTRUMENTS INDICATE NO SIGN OF ENEMY. EXPLAIN BATTLE STATIONS ORDER. COMMANDER DEVOURE…
" Battle stations," muttered Devoure, stunned. "No
wonder the robots… " His eyes fell on Lucky. "You
did that."
Lucky nodded. "Yes, sir."
Devoure's puffy lips set and he said hoarsely, "The clever, resourceful Councilman! You've saved your monkey for the moment." His blaster pointed firmly at Lucky's midriff. "Get into my offices. Every one of you. You too, Zayon. All of you."
The image receiver on his desk was buzzing madly. Obviously it was the failure to get Devoure at his office that had forced his distracted underlings to the loud-speakers.
Devoure flipped on the sound but left the image blind. He barked, "Cancel battle stations order. It was an error."
The man at the other end spluttered something, and Devoure said sharply, "There's nothing wrong with the image. Get on the ball. Everyone back on routine." But almost against his will his hand hovered between his face and the place where the image ought to be, as though he feared that somehow the other might penetrate to vision anyhow and see to what his face had been reduced- and wonder about it.
Yonge's nostrils flared as he watched, and he slowly rubbed his scarred forearm.
Devoure sat down. "The rest of you stand," he said, and stared sullenly from face to face. "This Martian will die, maybe not by robot or in a stripped space ship. I'll think of something; and if you think you saved him, Earthman, be sure I'll think of something more amusing still. I have an excellent imagination."
Lucky said, "I demand that he be treated as a prisoner of war."
Devoure said, "There is no war. He is a spy. He deserves death. He is a roboticide. He deserves death twice." His voice trembled suddenly. "He lifted his hands against me. He deserves death a dozen times."
"I'll buy my friend," said Lucky in a whisper. "He is not for sale:"
"I can pay a high price."
"How?" Devoure grinned ferociously. "By bearing witness at the conference as you have been requested? It is too late for that. It is not enough."
"I couldn't do that in any case," said Lucky. "I will not lie against Earth, but there is a truth I can tell; a truth you do not know."
Bigman said sharply, "Don't bargain with him, Lucky."
"The monkey is right," Devoure said. "Don't bargain. Nothing you can tell me will buy him. I wouldn't sell him for all Earth in my hand."
Yonge interrupted sharply, "I would for much less. Listen to the Councilman. Their lives may be worth the information they have."
Devoure said, "Don't provoke me. You are under arrest."
But Yonge lifted a chair and let it drop with a crash. "I defy you to arrest me. I'm a Serviceman. You can't execute me out of hand. You dare not, no matter how I provoke you. You must reserve me for trial. And at any trial I have things to say."
"Such as?" demanded Devoure with contempt
All the dislike of the aging Serviceman for the young aristocrat was suddenly out in the open. "Such as what happened today: how a five-foot Terrestrial tore you apart until you howled and Zayon had to step in to save your life. Zayon will bear witness. Every man jack at the base will remember that you dared not show your face for days after this date-or will you have the nerve to show that torn face before it heals?"
"Be quiet!"
"I can be quiet. I need say nothing-if you will stop subordinating the good of Sinus to your private hatreds. Listen to what the Councilman has to say." He turned to Lucky. "I guarantee you a fair deal."
Bigman piped up, "What fair deal? You and Zayon will wake up one morning and find yourselves dead by accident and Devoure will be so sorry and send you lots of flowers, only after that there'll be no one to say how he needs robots to hide behind when a Martian is after his filthy skin. Then we'll go any way he likes. So why bargain?"
"There'll be nothing like that," said Yonge stiffly, "because I will give the complete story to one of the robots within an hour of my leaving here. He won't know which one, and he won't find out. If either Zayon or myself dies of anything but natural causes, the story will be relayed to the public sub-etherics in full; otherwise, not. I rather think Devoure will be anxious to see that nothing happens to Zayon or myself."
Zayon shook his head. "I don't like this, Yonge."
"You've got to like it, Zayon. You witnessed his beating. Do you think he wouldn't do his worst for you if you didn't take precautions? Come, I'm weary of sacrificing the honor of the Service to the nephew of the director."
Zayon said unhappily, "Well, what is your information, Councilman Starr?"
Lucky said in a low voice, "It's more than information. It's surrender. There is another Councilman on what you call Sirian territory. Agree to treat my friend as a prisoner of war and safeguard his life by forgetting the roboticide incident and I'll take you to this other Councilman."
13. Prelude to Vesta
Bigman, who, to the end, had been certain that Lucky had some stratagem on hand, was appalled. He called out in a heartbroken wail, "No, Lucky! No! I don't want to be pulled out that way."
Devoure was openly astonished. "Where? No ship could have penetrated our defenses. It's a lie."
"I'll take you to the man," said Lucky wearily, "if we come to an arrangement."
"Space!" growled Yonge. "It's an arrangement."
"Wait," said Devoure angrily. "I admit this could be of value to us, but is Starr suggesting that he will openly testify to the conference on Vesta that this other Councilman invaded our territory and that Starr voluntarily revealed his hiding place?"
"It's the truth," said Lucky. "I will so testify."
"The word of honor of a Councilman?" sneered Devoure.
"I have said I will testify."
"Well, then," said Devoure, "since our Servicemen will have it so, you may have your lives hi exchange." His eyes suddenly sparked fury. "On Mimas. Is that it, Councilman? Mimas?"
"That is correct."
"By Sinus!" Devoure rose to his feet in agitation. "We almost missed it. Nor did this occur to the Service."