They stood as if frozen in a tableau. The robot slumped backward, the man leaning forward, his face twisted with unreasoning hatred. The head lay between them like a symbol of death.

Coleman’s voice cut through the air of tenseness like a knife.

“ Druce , stop playing with the grease-can and get down to the main door to let Little Willy and his junk-brokers in. You can have it all to yourself afterward.”

The angry man turned reluctantly, but pushed out of the door at Coleman’s annoyed growl. Jon sat down against the wall, his mind sorting out the few facts with lightning precision. There was no room in his thoughts for Druce, the man had become just one more factor in a complex problem.

Call the emergency operator⁠—that meant this was no local matter, responsible authorities must be involved. Only the government could be behind a thing as major as this. Signal 14⁠—that inferred a complex set of arrangements, forces that could swing into action at a moment’s notice. There was no indication where this might lead, but the only thing to do was to get out of here and make that phone call. And quick. Druce was bringing in more people, junk-brokers, whatever they were. Any action that he took would have to be done before they returned.

Even as Jon followed this train of logic his fingers were busy. Palming a wrench, he was swiftly loosening the main retaining nut on his hip joint. It dropped free in his hand, only the pivot pin remained now to hold his leg on. He climbed slowly to his feet and moved towards Coleman’s desk.

“ Mr. Coleman, sir, it’s time to go down to the ship now, should I leave now, sir?”