Jordan caught up before Docchi reached the cargo hold. In lesser gravity he was more active and could move freely. Now his handicap was almost unnoticeable, seemed to have disappeared. The same was not true of Docchi. It required less effort to walk but there was also a profound unsettling effect that made him cautious and uncertain. Docchi heard him coming and waited, bracing himself against the wall in case the gravity should momentarily change. Jordan still carried the weapon he'd taken from the pilot. It was clipped to the sacklike garment, dangling from his midsection which, for him, was just below his shoulders. Down the passageway he came, swinging from the guide rails with easy grace though the gravity on the ship was as erratic as on the asteroid.
Jordan halted, hanging on with one hand. "We have a passenger. Someone we didn't know about."
Docchi stiffened. "Who?" he asked. But the answer was already on Jordan's face. "Nona," he said in relief. He slumped forward. "How did she get on?"
"A good question," said Jordan. "But there isn't any answer and never will be. It's my guess that after she jammed the lights and scanners in the rocket dome she went to the ship and it looked inviting. So she went in. She wouldn't let a little thing like a lock that couldn't be opened stop her."
"It's a good guess," agreed Docchi. "She's exceedingly curious."
"We may as well make the picture complete. Once in the ship she felt tired. She found a comfortable cabin and fell asleep. She can't hear anything so our little skirmish with the geepees didn't bother her."
"I can't argue with you. It'll do until a better explanation comes along."
"But I wish she'd waited a few minutes to take her nap. She'd have saved us a lot of trouble. She didn't know you'd be able to crawl through the tubes—and neither did you until you'd actually done it."
"What do you want?" said Docchi. "She did more than we did. We depend too much on her. Next thing we'll expect her to escort us personally to the stars."
"I wasn't criticizing her," protested Jordan.
"Maybe not. You've got to remember her mind works differently. It never occurred to her that we'd have difficulty with something that was so simple to her. At the same time she's completely unable to grasp our concepts." He straightened up. "We'd better get going if we don't want Anti to start yelling."
The cargo hold was sizable. It had to be to hold the tank, which was now quite battered and twisted. But the tank was sturdily built and looked as if it would hold together for ages to come. There was some doubt as to whether the ship would. The wall opposite the ramp was badly bent where the tank had plowed into it and the storage racks were demolished. Odds and ends of equipment lay in scattered heaps on the floor.
"Anti," called Docchi.
"Here."
"Are you hurt?"
"Never felt a thing," came the cheerful reply. It was not surprising; her surplus flesh was adequate protection against deceleration.
Jordan began to scale the side of the tank, reaching the top and peering over. "She seems to be all right," he called down. "Part of the acid's gone. Otherwise there's no damage."
"Of course not," replied Anti. "What did I say?"
It was perhaps more serious than she realized. She might personally dislike it, but acid was necessary to her life. And some of it had been splashed from the tank. Where it had spilled metal was corroding rapidly. By itself this was no cause for alarm. The ship was built for a multitude of strange environments and the scavenging system would handle acid as readily as water, neutralizing it and disposing of it where it would do no harm. But the supply had to be conserved. There was no more.
"What are you waiting for?" Anti rumbled with impatience. "Get me out of here. I've stewed in this disgusting soup long enough."
"We were thinking how we could get you out. We'll figure out a way."
"You let me do the thinking. You just get busy. After you left I decided there must be some way to live outside the tank and of course when I bent my mind to it there was a way. After all, who knows more about my condition than me?"
"You're the expert. Tell us what to do."
"Oh I will. All I need from you is no gravity and I'll take care of the rest. I've got muscles, more than you think. I can walk as long as my bones don't break from the weight."
Light gravity was bad, none at all was worse for Docchi. Having no arms he'd be helpless. The prospect of floating free without being able to grasp anything was terrifying. He forced down his fear. Anti had to have it and so he could get used to null gravity.
"We'll get around to it," he promised. "Before we do we'll have to drain and store the acid."
"I don't care what you do with it," said Anti. "All I know is that I don't want to be in it."
Jordan was already working. He swung off the tank and was busy expelling water from an auxiliary compartment into space. As soon as the compartment was empty he led a hose from it to the tank. A pump vibrated and the acid level in the tank began to fall.
Docchi felt the ship lurch familiarly. The ship was older than he thought, the gravity generator more out of date. "Hurry," he called to Jordan.
In time they'd cut it off. But if gravity went out before they were ready they were in for rough moments. Free floating globes of highly corrosive acid, scattered throughout the ship by air currents, could be as destructive as high velocity meteor clusters.
Jordan tinkered with the pump and then jammed the lever as far as it would go, holding it there. "I think we'll make it," he said above the screech of the pump. The machinery gasped, but it won. The throbbing broke into a vacant clatter that betokened the tank was empty. Jordan had the hose rolled away before the gravity generator let the feeling of weight trickle off into nothingness.
As soon as she was weightless Anti rose out of the tank.
In all the time Docchi had known her he had seen no more than a face framed in blue acid. Where it was necessary periodic surgery had trimmed the flesh away. For the rest, she lived submerged in a corrosive fluid that destroyed the wild tissue as fast as it grew. Anyway, nearly as fast.
"Well, junkman, look at a real freak," snapped Anti.
He had anticipated—and he was wrong in what he thought. It was true humans weren't meant to grow so large, but Jupiter wasn't repulsive merely because it was the bulging giant of planets. It was unbelievable and overwhelming when seen close up but it was not obscene. It took getting used to but he could stand the sight of Anti.
"How long can you live out of the acid?" he stammered.
"Can't live out of it," said Anti loftily. "So I take it with me. If you weren't as unobservant as most men you'd see how I do it."
"It's a robe of some kind," said Docchi carefully after studying it.
"Exactly. A surgical robe, the only thing I have to my name. Maybe it's the only garment in the solar system that will fit me. Anyway, if you've really examined it you'll notice it's made of a spongelike substance. It holds enough acid to last at least thirty-six hours."
She grasped a rail and propelled herself toward the passageway. For most people it was spacious enough but not for Anti. However she could squeeze through. And satellites, one glowing and the other swinging in an eccentric orbit, followed after the Jupiter of humans.
Nona was standing in front of the instrument panel when they came back. It was more or less like all panels built since designers first got the hang of what could really be done with seemingly simple components. There was a bewildering array of lights, levers, dials, and indicators in front of her but Nona was interested in none of these. There was a single small switch and dial, separate from the rest, that held her complete attention. She seemed disturbed by what she saw or failed to see. Disturbed or excited, it was difficult to guess which.
Anti stopped. "Look at her. If I didn't know she's as bad as the rest of us, in fact the only one who was born that way, it would be easy to hate her. She's disgustingly normal."
There was truth in what Anti said—and yet there wasn't. Surgical techniques that could take bodies apart and put them together with a skill once reserved for machines had made beauty commonplace. There were no more sagging muscles, discolored skin, or wrinkles. Even the aged were attractive and youthful seeming until the day they died, and the day after too. There were no more ill-formed limbs, misshapen bodies, unsightly hair. Everyone was handsome or beautiful. No exceptions.
The accidentals didn't belong, of course. In another day most of them would have been employed by a circus—if they had first escaped the formaldehyde of the specimen bottle.
And Nona didn't belong—doubly. She couldn't be called normal, and she wasn't a repair job as the other accidentals were. Looked at closely she was an original as far from the average in one direction as Anti was in the other.
"What's she staring at?" asked Anti as the others slipped past her into the compartment. "Is there something wrong with the little dial?"
"That dial has a curious history," said Docchi. "It's not useless, it just isn't used. Actually it's an indicator for the gravity drive which at one time was considered fairly promising. It hasn't been removed because it might come in handy during an extreme emergency."
"But all that extra weight——"
"There's no weight, Anti. The gravity drive is run from the same generator that supplies passenger gravity. It's very interesting that Nona should spot it at once. I'm certain she's never been in a control room before and yet she went straight to it. She may even have some inkling of what it's for."
Anti dismissed the intellectual feat. "Well, why are you waiting here? You know she can't hear us. Go stand in front of her."
"How do I get there?" Docchi had risen a few inches now that Jordan had released his grip. He was free floating and helpless, sort of a plankton of space.
"A good engineer would have sense to put on magnetics. Nona did." Anti grasped his jacket. How she was able to move was uncertain. The tissues that surrounded the woman were too vast to permit the perception of individual motions. Nevertheless she proceeded to the center of the compartment and with her came Docchi.
Nona turned before they reached her. "My poor boy," sighed Anti. "If you're trying to conceal your emotions, that's a very bad job. Anyway, stop glowing like a rainbow and say something."
It was one time Anti missed. He almost did feel that way and maybe if she weren't so competent in his own specialty he might have. It was irritating to study and work for so many years as he had—and then to be completely outclassed by someone who did neither, to whom certain kinds of knowledge came so easily it seemed to be inborn. She was attractive but for him something was missing. "Hello," he said lamely.
Nona smiled at him though it was Anti she went to.
"No, not too close, child. Don't touch the surgery robe unless you want your pretty face to peel off when you're not looking."
Nona stopped; she was close but she may as well have been miles away. She said nothing.
Anti shook her head hopelessly. "I wish she'd learn to read lips or at least recognize words. What can you say to her?"
"She knows facial expressions and actions, I think," said Docchi. "She's pretty good at emotions too. She falls down when it comes to words. I don't think she knows there is such a thing."
"Then how does she think?" asked Anti, and answered her own question. "Maybe she doesn't."
"Let's not be as dogmatic as psychologists have been. We know she does. What concepts she uses is uncertain. Not verbal, nor mathematical anyway—she's been tested for that." He frowned puzzledly. "I don't know what concepts she uses in thinking. I wish I did."
"Save some of the worry for our present situation," said Anti. "The object of your concern doesn't seem to need it. At least she isn't interested."
Nona had wandered back to the instrument panel and was staring at the gravity drive indicator again. There was really nothing there to hold her attention but her curiosity was insatiable and childlike.
And in many ways she seemed immature. And that led to an elusive thought: what child was she? Not whose child—what child. Her actual parents were known, obscure technicians and mechanics, descendants themselves of a long line of mechanics and technicians. Not one notable or distinguished person among them, her family was decently unknown to fame or misfortune in every branch—until she'd come along. And what was her place, according to heredity? Docchi didn't know but he didn't share the official medical view.
With an effort Docchi stopped thinking about Nona. "We appealed to the medicouncilor," he said. "We asked for a ship to go to the nearest star, a rocket, naturally. Even allowing for a better design than we now have the journey will take a long time—forty or fifty years going and the same time back. That's entirely too long for a normal crew, but it wouldn't matter to us. You know what the Medicouncil did with that request. That's why we're here."
"Why rockets?" interrupted Jordan. "Why not some form of that gravity drive you were talking about? Seems to me for travel over a long distance it would be much better."
"As an idea it's very good," said Docchi. "Theoretically there's no upper limit to the gravity drive except the velocity of light and even that's questionable. If it would work the time element could be cut in fractions. But the last twenty years have proved that gravity drives don't work at all outside the solar system. They work very well close to the sun, start acting up at the orbit of Venus and are no good at all from Earth on out."
"Why don't they?" asked Jordan. "You said they used the same generator as passenger gravity. Those work away from the sun."
"Sure they do," said Docchi impatiently. "Like ours is working now? Actually ship internal gravity is more erratic than we had on the asteroid, and that's hardly reliable. For some reason the drive is always worse than passenger gravity. Don't ask me why. If I knew I wouldn't be on Handicap Haven. Arms or no arms, biocompensator or not, I'd be the most important scientist on Earth."
"With multitudes of women competing for your affections," said Anti.
"I think he'd settle for one," suggested Jordan.
"Poor unimaginative man," said Anti. "When I was young I was not so narrow in my outlook."
"We've heard about your youth," said Jordan. "I don't believe very much of it."
"Talk about your youth and love affairs privately if you want but spare us the details. Especially now, since there are more important things to attend to." Docchi glowered at them. "Anyway the gravity drive is out," he resumed. "At one time they had hopes for it but no longer. The present function of the generator is to provide gravity inside the ship, for passenger comfort. Nothing else.
"So it is a rocket ship, slow and clumsy but reliable. It'll get us there. The Medicouncil refused us and so we'll have to go higher."
"I'm all for it," said Anti. "How do we get higher?"
"We've discussed it before," answered Docchi. "The Medicouncil is responsible to the Solar Government, and in turn Solar has been known to yield to devious little pressures."
"Or not so devious great big pressures. Fine. I'm in favor," said Anti. "I just wanted to be sure."
"Mars is close," continued Docchi. "But Earth is more influential. Therefore I recommend it." His voice trailed off and he stopped and listened, listened.
Anti listened too but the sound was too faint for her hearing. "What's the matter?" she said. "I think you're imagining things."
Jordan leaned forward in his seat and examined the instrument panel carefully before answering. "That's the trouble, Anti. You're not supposed to hear it, but you should be able to feel vibrations as long as the rocket's on."
"I don't feel it either."
"I know," said Jordan, looking at Docchi. "I can't understand. There's plenty of fuel."
The momentum of the ship carried it along after the rockets stopped firing. They were still moving but not very fast and not in the direction they ultimately had to go. Gingerly Docchi tried out the magnetic shoes. He was clumsy but no longer helpless in the gravityless ship. He stared futilely at the instruments as if he could wring out more secrets than the panel had electronic access to.
"It's mechanical trouble of some sort," he said uneasily. "I don't know where to begin."
Before he could get to it Anti was in the passageway that led from the control compartment. "Course I'm completely ignorant," she said. "Seems to me we ought to start with the rocket tubes and trace the trouble from there."
"I was going to," said Docchi. "You stay here, Anti. I'll see what's wrong."
She reached nearly from the floor to the ceiling. She missed by scant inches the sides of the corridor. Locomotion was easy for her, turning around wasn't. So she didn't turn. "Look, honey," her voice floated back. "You brought me along for the ride. That's fine. I'm grateful but I'm not satisfied with just that. Seems to me I've got to earn my fare. You stay and run the ship. You and Jordan know how. I don't. I'll find out what's wrong."
"But you won't know what to do."
"I don't have to. You don't have to be a mechanic to see something's broken. I'll find it, and when I do you can come and fix it."
He knew when it was useless to argue with her. "We'll both go," he said. "Jordan will stay at the controls."
It was a dingy poorly lighted passageway in an older ship. Handicap Haven didn't rate the best equipment that was being produced, and even when it was new the ship had been no prize. On one side of the corridor was the hull of the ship; on the other a few small cabins. None were occupied. Anti stopped. The long hall ended in a cross corridor that led to the other side of the ship where a return passage led back to the control compartment.
"We'll check the stern tubes," he said, still unable to see around her. "Open the door and we'll look in."
"Can't," said Anti. "Tried to but the handle won't turn. There's a red light too. Does it mean anything?"
He'd expected something like this but nevertheless his heart sank now that he was actually confronted with it. "It does. Don't try again. With your strength you might be unlucky enough to open the door."
"There's a man for you," said Anti. "First you tell me to open it and then you don't want me to."
"There's no air in the rear compartment, Anti. The combustion chamber's been retracted—that's why the rockets stopped firing. The air rushed out into space as soon as it happened. That's what the red light means."
"We'd all die if I opened it now?"
"We would."
"Then let's get busy and fix it."
"We will. But we've got to make sure it doesn't happen again. You see, it wasn't accidental. Someone, or something, was responsible."
"Are you sure?"
"Very sure. Did you see anyone while we were loading your tank in the ship?"
"Nothing. How could I? I heard Cameron shouting, other noise. But I couldn't see a thing that wasn't directly overhead, and there wasn't anything."
"I thought so. A geepee could have got in without anyone seeing him. I didn't count them but I was certain all of them had dropped outside. I was mistaken; one of them didn't."
"Why does it have to be a geepee?"
"It just does, Anti. The combustion chamber was retracted while we were all in the control compartment. We didn't do it and therefore it had to be someone back here.
"No man is strong enough to retract the cap, but if he somehow exerted superhuman effort, as soon as the chamber cleared the tubes rocket action would cease and the air in the compartment would exhaust into space."
"So we have a dead geepee in the rocket compartment."
"A geepee doesn't die or even become inactive. Lack of air doesn't hinder it in the least. Not only that, a geepee might be able to escape from the compartment. It's strong and fast enough to open the door against the pressure and get out and close it again in less than a second. We wouldn't notice it because the ship would automatically replenish the small amount of air that would escape."
Anti settled down grimly. "Then there's a geepee on the loose, intent on wrecking us?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Then what are we standing around for? All we have to do is go back to the controls and pick up the robot on the radio. We'll make it go in there and repair the damage it's done."
She partly turned around and saw Docchi's face. "Don't tell me," she said, "I should have thought of it. The radio doesn't work inside the ship."
Docchi nodded reluctantly. "It doesn't. Robots are never used aboard and so the emergency band is broadcast by the bow antenna. The hull of the ship is a pretty good insulation."
"Ain't that nice?" said Anti happily. "We've got a robot hunt ahead of us."
"And our bare hands to hunt it with."
"Oh come. It's not as hopeless as that. Look, the robot was back here when the rockets stopped. It couldn't get by the control compartment without our seeing it."
"That's right. There are two corridors leading through the compartment, one on each side of the ship."
"That's what I mean. We came down one and there wasn't any geepee. So it's got to be in the other. If it goes in a cabin a light will shine outside. It can't hide from us."
"I don't doubt we'll find it. But what'll we do then?"
"I was thinking," said Anti. "Can you get past me when I'm standing like this?"
"No."
"That's what I thought. Neither can a geepee. All I need is a toaster, or something that looks like it. I'll drive the robot forward and Jordan can burn it down." Determinedly she began to move toward the far corridor. "Hurry back to Jordan and tell him. There ought to be another weapon on the ship. Should be one for the pilot to use. Bring it back to me."
Docchi bit his lip and stared at the back of the huge woman. He knew Anti, and when it was useless to argue with her. "All right," he answered. "Stay here though. Don't try anything until I get a toaster for you."
The magnetics on his feet were no substitute for gravity. Docchi couldn't move fast, no human could. He had time to think as he went along but nothing better suggested itself. A toaster for Jordan and another for Anti—if there was another.
And Anti would block the passageway. A geepee might go through her but it could never squeeze past. The robot would try to get away. If it came toward Anti she might disable it. But she would be firing directly into the control compartment. And if she missed even partially—well, the instruments were delicate.
But Jordan might get the chance to bring down the robot. Then Anti would be in the line of fire. No matter how he looked at it, Docchi was sure the plan was unworkable. They'd have to devise something else.
"Jordan," called Docchi as soon as he got there; but Jordan wasn't in sight. Nona was, still gazing serenely at the gravity indicator. Nothing seemed capable of breaking through the shell that surrounded her.
Light was streaming from the opposite corridor. Docchi hurried over. Jordan was just inside the entrance, the toaster clutched grimly in his hand. He was hitching his truncated body slowly toward the stern.
Coming to meet him was Anti—unarmed enormous Anti. She hadn't meant to wait for the weapon—she was pretty certain there wasn't any—she had merely wanted to get him out of the way. And she wasn't walking; somehow it seemed more like swimming, a bulbous huge sea animal moving through the air. She waved what resembled fins against the wall, with them propelling herself forward. "Melt it down," she cried.
It was difficult to make out the vaguely human form of the geepee. The powerful shining body blended in with the structure of the ship—unintentional camouflage, though the robot wasn't aware of it. It crouched at the threshold of a cabin, hesitating between approaching dangers.
Jordan raised the weapon and lowered it with the same motion. "Get out of the way." He gestured futilely to Anti.
There was no place she could go. She was too big to enter a cabin, too massive to let the robot squeeze by even if she wanted. "Never mind. Get him," she called.
The geepee wasn't a genius even by robot standards. But it did know that heat is deadly and that a human body is a fragile thing. And so it ran toward Anti. Unlike humans it didn't need special magnetics; such a function was built into it and the absence or presence of gravity disturbed it not at all. It moved very fast.
Docchi had to watch though he didn't want to. The robot exploded into action, launching its body at Anti. But it was the robot that was thrown back. It had calculated swiftly but incorrectly—relative mass favored the enormous woman.
The electronic brain obeyed the original instructions, whatever they were. It got up and rushed Anti again. Metal arms shot out with dazzling speed and crashed against the flesh of the huge woman. Docchi could hear the rattle of blows. No ordinary person could take that punishment and live.
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 lungs 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 his 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 Anti. "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.