Tiny bat-winged creatures swooped by. I heard the call of an owl. A gentle rain, like molten gold, began to fall across the starry prospect. Glory passed more ingredients to Adam. I gave the next batch to Cagliostro. Cagliostro unrolled the scroll further and read off more items. Prandy brought him several. The Dominoid made a small, whimpering sound. A beat like a roll of thunder passed down the Hellhole.
Time was without meaning as we fetched and delivered. I had no idea how many of his needed qualities the Dominoid had acquired. "Now, the Library of Congress," Cagliostro ordered, and this was done. The Dominoid groaned, and Cagliostro halted the procedure to inspect it. Satisfied, he read off another series of items.
The eyes opened for a moment—a blazing blue—and were squeezed shut immediately to the accompaniment of an inhuman shriek. Liquid and bright, like metal in a crucible, its skin seemed almost to be flowing.
It groaned again and tried to sit up. Adam and Cagliostro continued their work. Steam began to rise from the surface of its body. After a while tiny charges of static electricity danced across its torso, among its toes.
"How far along are we?" I finally asked.
"Almost finished," Cagliostro said. "Soon. Soon."
The Dominoid succeeded in sitting up, tried to rise to its feet. Cagliostro pushed it back down. Its eyes opened suddenly, staring into his own. "Out, mon cher," he purred. "Soon."
The Dominoid's lips moved. "Mother?" it said.
Cagliostro 'laughed. "Why not? I am your mama"—he gestured at Adam—"and this one your midwife. These others assist us."
The Dominoid reached out with its right hand and stroked Cagliostro's cheek. "Mother," he repeated. Then his gaze turned to Adam and he took hold of his hand and squeezed it. "Midwife," he said.
Adam smiled. "I am honored," he stated.
Cagliostro reached forward and installed the 666th ingredient.
"Maintenant you are perfect, mon petit," he said, reaching out and placing his fingertips upon its temples. "Can you see where the main controls to this place are situated?"
"Of course. Forward and to the right." It gestured. "I will take you to them."
"No. Just do as I do. Place your hands upon my head as mine are upon yours."
The Dominoid's hands moved forward, fingers touching Cagliostro's temples. They stared into each other's eyes.
"No!" Adam cried. "Stop them, Alf! I never thought—"
I was already moving.
Still smiling, Cagliostro moved his right hand in a fairly sophisticated gesture which would have brushed many people aside. He was surprised, therefore, to find all of his fingers broken; and he lost his smile as I applied a wristlock which took him over backwards.
"Alf! Lay off! Prandy! Hit the ground!" Adam called then.
I drew back and Prandy dropped. Cagliostro continued to roll backwards and came again to his feet. He regained his smile as he did so. "Really—" he began.
There was a blur in the air and a high-pitched hum as something dark and well-antennaed settled upon his shoulders. There was no scream, though, over the buzzing that ensued. And as Cagliostro's headless corpse fell to the floor, I heard Gomi's voice say, "I feel ahead on this deal. Yo ho ho!" Then, with the sound of a closing canister, his grotesque shadow flashed away and was gone.
"Sometimes your timing is quite good," I said to Adam.
"Can't lose them all," he replied.
Then the Dominoid stood up, still glowing and steaming, still flickering and flashing in places. Its lips had moved into a small smile. "Too late, mes amis. Too late," it said, and it began to move toward the rear of the Hellhole.
"Well, maybe you can," Adam amended, leaping into its path.
There was a brief encounter, masked from me by the creature's back, and Adam was cast off to the left, slamming against the wall. "I anticipate you," the creature remarked. "Could it be otherwise?" It continued on its way toward the rear.
"Alf!" Adam yelled. "Get it into the stripping field if you can!"
I bounded forward, leaped so as to strike the right-hand wall feet-first, continued on to the ceiling to arrive upside down above the Dominoid, one hand taking hold of it beneath the chin, the other upon the top of its head. I tried snapping its neck to its right. With a standard model human the neck anatomy is such that successful resistance in that plane would make it vulnerable for a front-to-rear break— and vice-versa. But it did not resist. It received my maneuver with a range of movement exceeding the human. A greater plasticity allowed for it to follow the full extent of my attack without suffering any damage.
Its hands moved upward and took hold of my wrists. As I was facing the front of the Hellhole, I immediately pushed off and dropped down, arriving on my feet behind it, my turning movement raising its hands to shoulder height. I freed my left wrist with a twisting movement, placed it atop its right hand, which still had hold of my right wrist, and tried to bring it back over its shoulder and down for a takedown. But it turned slightly toward me with a backward movement of its right foot, lowered itself slightly, and stepped forward again, spinning me past its right side to face it. Its wrist should have given way as I was propelled about it, but again that plasticity preserved it, as I felt it loosen and stretch within my grip.
My right foot was against its abdomen as soon as it was within range, and I kept turning, keeping the tension on its arm, pushing with my foot, and dropping to the floor to my left. Its balance broke and it shot forward above me.
We recovered our footing simultaneously, and I heard Cagliostro's laugh emerge from the lips of the Dominoid. "Alf! You are a colosodian! C'est magnifique!" he said. "No one else could have done that! You have granted me a longtime wish to see one of you in action!"
I was already attacking by then, this time with techniques designed to dismantle robots. "But this must not continue," he said, and his shimmering, creamy color, touched with gold, was muted.
My first blow passed completely through him, as if he were made of smoke. So did a rapid sequence with which I followed it. He turned away then, saying, "I must be about my business."
"And what might that be?" I inquired, following him along the claw marks past the heaped clones.
He halted in advance of them, faced the right-hand wall, extended both hands, and, like a parting of curtains, opened a section of space. An elaborate control panel hung before him. "Ask Adam," he said.
I turned toward Adam, who had also opened a compartment in seeming nothingness and withdrawn a thirty-inch tube with a bore like a bazooka. He held it at his right side and gestured with his head for me to move out of the way.
I did, and Adam triggered the thing.
The Dominoid, just leaning toward the controls, halted and stiffened. Its outline wavered, blurred, as it began to vibrate. A humming from the weapon rose to a wailing. The tableau held for several seconds, then its outline grew more stable. Adam immediately touched a control on the weapon's side and the Dominoid blurred again, a great gust of steam rising from it.
. . . And again the shining being stabilized, its form growing clearer. Adam touched the control several times in rapid succession. The pitch of the wailing rose and fell, but that was all that changed. The outline became totally crisp as Cagliostro's voice came again: "Too late. I can vibrate in any fashion it can, and I can respond immediately now. Put it away, Adam, unless you have nothing better to do."
Adam licked his lips, tossed it back into the niche, and sealed it inside as I came up next to him.