Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Analog, July 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. 

 A SPACESHIP

 NAMED

 McGUIRE

 By

 RANDALL GARRETT

 _The basic trouble with McGuire was that, though "he" was a robot spaceship, nevertheless "he" had a definite weakness that a man might understand. . . . _

 Illustrated by Douglas

 * * * * *

No. Nobody ever deliberately named a spaceship that. The staid andstolid minds that run the companies which design and build spaceshipsrarely let their minds run to fancy. The only example I can think ofis the unsung hero of the last century who had puckish imaginationenough to name the first atomic-powered submarine _Nautilus_. Suchminds are rare. Most minds equate dignity with dullness. 

This ship happened to have a magnetogravitic drive, whichautomatically put it into the MG class. It also happened to be thefirst successful model to be equipped with a Yale robotic brain, so itwas given the designation MG-YR-7--the first six had had more bugs inthem than a Leopoldville tenement. 

So somebody at Yale--another unsung hero--named the ship McGuire; itwasn't official, but it stuck. 

The next step was to get someone to test-hop McGuire. They needed justthe right man--quick-minded, tough, imaginative, and a whole slew ofcomplementary adjectives. They wanted a perfect superman to test pilottheir baby, even if they knew they'd eventually have to take secondbest. 

It took the Yale Space Foundation a long time to pick the right man. 

No, I'm not the guy who tested the McGuire. 

I'm the guy who stole it. 

 * * * * *

Shalimar Ravenhurst is not the kind of bloke that very many people canbring themselves to like, and, in this respect, I'm like a great manypeople, if not more so. In the first place, a man has no right to goaround toting a name like "Shalimar"; it makes names like "Beverly"and "Leslie" and "Evelyn" sound almost hairy chested. You want a dozenother reasons, you'll get them. 

Shalimar Ravenhurst owned a little planetoid out in the Belt, a hunkof nickel-iron about the size of a smallish mountain with a gee-pullmeasurable in fractions of a centimeter per second squared. If you'resusceptible to spacesickness, that kind of gravity is about as muchhelp as aspirin would have been to Marie Antoinette. You get thefeeling of a floor beneath you, but there's a distinct impression thatit won't be there for long. It keeps trying to drop out from underyou. 

I dropped my flitterboat on the landing field and looked aroundwithout any hope of seeing anything. I didn't. The field was about thesize of a football field, a bright, shiny expanse of rough-polishedmetal, carved and smoothed flat from the nickel-iron of the planetoiditself. It not only served as a landing field, but as a reflectorbeacon, a mirror that flashed out the sun's reflection as theplanetoid turned slowly on its axis. I'd homed in on that beacon, andnow I was sitting on it. 

There wasn't a soul in sight. Off to one end of the rectangular fieldwas a single dome, a hemisphere about twenty feet in diameter and halfas high. Nothing else. 

I sighed and flipped on the magnetic anchor, which grabbed hold of themetal beneath me and held the flitterboat tightly to the surface. ThenI cut the drive, plugged in the telephone, and punched for "Local. "

The automatic finder searched around for the Ravenhurst ticklersignal, found it, and sent out a beep along the same channel. 

I waited while the thing beeped twice. There was a click, and a voicesaid: "Raven's Rest. Yes?" It wasn't Ravenhurst. 

I said: "This is Daniel Oak. I want to talk to Mr. Ravenhurst. "

"Mr. Oak? But you weren't expected until tomorrow. "

"Fine. I'm early. Let me talk to Ravenhurst. "

"But Mr. Ravenhurst wasn't expecting you to--"

I got all-of-a-sudden exasperated. "Unless your instruments arerunning on secondhand flashlight batteries, you've known I was comingfor the past half hour. I followed Ravenhurst's instructions not touse radio, but he should know I'm here by this time. He told me tocome as fast as possible, and I followed those instructions, too. Ialways follow instructions when I'm paid enough. 

"Now, I'm here; tell Ravenhurst I want to talk to him, or I'll simplyflit back to Eros, and thank him much for a pretty retainer thatdidn't do him any good but gave me a nice profit for my trouble. "

"One moment, please, " said the voice. 

It took about a minute and a half, which was about nine billionjiffies too long, as far as I was concerned. 

Then another voice said: "Oak? Wasn't expecting you till tomorrow. "

"So I hear. I thought you were in a hurry, but if you're not, you canjust provide me with wine, women, and other necessities untiltomorrow. That's above and beyond my fee, of course, since you'rewasting my time, and I'm evidently not wasting yours. "

I couldn't be sure whether the noise he made was a grunt or a muffledchuckle, and I didn't much care. "Sorry, Oak; I really didn't expectyou so soon, but I do want to . . . I want you to get started rightaway. Leave your flitterboat where it is; I'll have someone take careof it. Walk on over to the dome and come on in. " And he cut off. 

I growled something I was glad he didn't hear and hung up. I wishedthat I'd had a vision unit on the phone; I'd like to have seen hisface. Although I knew I might not have learned much more from hisexpression than I had from his voice. 

 * * * * *

I got out of the flitterboat, and walked across the dome, my magneticsoles making subdued clicking noises inside the suit as they caughtand released the metallic plain beneath me. Beyond the field, I wassurrounded by a lumpy horizon and a black sky full of bright, hardstars. 

The green light was on when I reached the door to the dome, so Iopened it and went on in, closing it behind me. I flipped the togglethat began flooding the room with air. When it was up to pressure, atrap-door in the floor of the dome opened and a crew-cut, blond youngman stuck his head up. "Mr. Oak?"

I toyed, for an instant, with the idea of giving him a sarcasticanswer. Who else would it be? How many other visitors were runningaround on the surface of Raven's Rest?

Instead, I said: "That's right. " My voice must have sounded prettymuffled to him through my fishbowl. 

"Come on down, Mr. Oak. You can shuck your vac suit below. "

I thought "below" was a pretty ambiguous term on a low-gee lump likethis, but I followed him down the ladder. The ladder was a necessityfor fast transportation; if I'd just tried to jump down from one floorto the next, it would've taken me until a month from next St. Swithin's Day to land. 

The door overhead closed, and I could hear the pumps start cycling. The warning light turned red. 

I took off my suit, hung it in a handy locker, showing that all I hadon underneath was my skin-tight "union suit. "

"All right if I wear this?" I asked the blond young man, "Or should Iborrow a set of shorts and a jacket?" Most places in the Belt, a unionsuit is considered normal dress; a man never knows when he might haveto climb into a vac suit--_fast_. But there are a few of thehoity-toity places on Eros and Ceres and a few of the otherwell-settled places where a man or woman is required to put on shortsand jacket before entering. And in good old New York City, a man andwoman were locked up for "indecent exposure" a few months ago. Thejudge threw the case out of court, but he told them they were luckythey hadn't been picked up in Boston. It seems that the eye of thebluenose turns a jaundiced yellow at the sight of a union suit, and hesees red. 

But there were evidently no bluenoses here. "Perfectly all right, Mr. Oak, " the blond young man said affably. Then he coughed politely andadded: "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to take off the gun. "

I glanced at the holster under my armpit, walked back over to thelocker, opened it, and took out my vac suit. 

"Hey!" said the blond young man. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my boat, " I said calmly. "I'm getting tired of this runaroundalready. I'm a professional man, not a hired flunky. If you'd called adoctor, you wouldn't tell him to leave his little black bag behind; ifyou'd called a lawyer, you wouldn't make him check his brief case. Or, if you did, he'd tell you to drop dead. 

"I was asked to come here as fast as possible, and when I do, I'm toldto wait till tomorrow. Now you want me to check my gun. The hell withyou. "

"Merely a safety precaution, " said the blond young man worriedly. 

"You think I'm going to shoot Ravenhurst, maybe? Don't be an idiot. " Istarted climbing into my vac suit. 

"Just a minute, please, Mr. Oak, " said a voice from a hidden speaker. It was Ravenhurst, and he actually sounded apologetic. "You mustn'tblame Mr. Feller; those are my standing orders, and I failed to tellMr. Feller to make an exception in your case. The error was mine. "

"I know, " I said. "I wasn't blaming Mr. Feller. I wasn't even talkingto him. I was addressing you. "

"I believe you. Mr. Feller, our guest has gone to all the trouble ofhaving a suit made with a space under the arm for that gun; I see noreason to make him remove it. " A pause. "Again, Mr. Oak, I apologize. I really want you to take this job. "

I was already taking off the vac suit again. 

"But, " Ravenhurst continued smoothly, "if I fail to live up to yourideas of courtesy again, I hope you'll forgive me in advance. I'msometimes very forgetful, and I don't like it when a man threatens toleave my employ twice in the space of fifteen minutes. "

"I'm not in your employ yet, Ravenhurst, " I said. "If I accept thejob, I won't threaten to quit again unless I mean to carry it through, and it would take a lot more than common discourtesy to make me dothat. On the other hand, your brand of discourtesy is a shade abovethe common. "

"I thank you for that, at least, " said Ravenhurst. "Show him to myoffice, Mr. Feller. "

The blond young man nodded wordlessly and led me from the room. 

 * * * * *

Walking under low-gee conditions is like nothing else in thisuniverse. I don't mean trotting around on Luna; one-sixth gee ispractically homelike in comparison. And zero gee is so devoid oforientation that it gives the sensation of falling endlessly until youget used to it. But a planetoid is in a different class altogether. 

Remember that dream--almost everybody's had it--where you're suddenlyable to fly? It isn't flying exactly; it's a sort of swimming in theair. Like being underwater, except that the medium around you isn't sodense and viscous, and you can breathe. Remember? Well, that's thefeeling you get on a low-gee planetoid. 

Your arms don't tend to hang at your sides, as they do on Earth orLuna, because the muscular tension tends to hold them out, just as itdoes in zero-gee, but there is still a definite sensation ofup-and-down. If you push yourself off the floor, you tend to float ina long, slow, graceful arc, provided you don't push too hard. Magneticsoles are practically a must. 

I followed the blond Mr. Feller down a series of long corridors whichhad been painted a pale green, which gave me the feeling that I wasunderwater. There were doors spaced at intervals along the corridorwalls. Occasionally one of them would open and a busy looking manwould cross the corridor, open another door, and disappear. Frombehind the doors, I could hear the drum of distant sounds. 

We finally ended up in front of what looked like the only wooden doorin the place. When you're carving an office and residence out of anickel-iron planetoid, importing wood from Earth is a purely luxurymatter. 

There was no name plate on that mahogany-red door; there didn't needto be. 

Feller touched a thin-lined circle in the door jamb. 

"You don't knock?" I asked with mock seriousness. 

"No, " said Feller, with a straight face. "I have to signal. Knockingwouldn't do any good. That's just wood veneer over a three-inch-thicksteel slab. "

The door opened and I stepped inside. 

I have never seen a room quite like it. The furniture was all thatsame mahogany--a huge desk, nineteenth century baroque, with carvedand curlicued legs; two chairs carved the same, with padded seats ofmaroon leather; and a chair behind the desk that might have doubled asa bishop's throne, with even fancier carving. Off to one side was along couch upholstered in a lighter maroon. The wall-to-wall carpetingwas a rich Burgundy, with a pile deep enough to run a reaper through. The walls were paneled with mahogany and hung with a couple of hugetapestries done in maroon, purple, and red. A bookcase along one wallwas filled with books, every one of which had been rebound in maroonleather. 

It was like walking into a cask of old claret. Or old blood. 

The man sitting behind the desk looked as though he'd been built to bethe lightest spot in an analogous color scheme. His suit was mauvewith purple piping, and his wide, square, saggy face was florid. Onhis nose and cheeks, tiny lines of purple tracing made darker areas inhis skin. His hair was a medium brown, but it was clipped so shortthat the scalp showed faintly through, and amid all that overwhelmingbackground, even the hair looked vaguely violet. 

"Come in, Mr. Oak, " said Shalimar Ravenhurst. 

I walked toward him across the Burgundy carpet while the blond youngman discreetly closed the door behind me, leaving us alone. I didn'tblame him. I was wearing a yellow union suit, and I hate to think whatI must have looked like in that room. 

I sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk after giving a briefshake to a thick-fingered, well-manicured, slightly oily hand. 

He opened a crystal decanter that stood on one end of the desk. "Havesome Madeira, Mr. Oak? Or would you like something else? I never drinkspirits at this time of night. "

I fought down an impulse to ask for a shot of redeye. "The Madeirawill be fine, Mr. Ravenhurst. "

He poured and handed me a stemmed glass nearly brimming with the wine. I joined him in an appreciative sip, then waited while he made up hismind to talk. 

He leaned across the desk, looking at me with his small, dark eyes. Hehad an expression on his face that looked as if it were trying tosneer and leer at the same time but couldn't get much beyond thesmirk stage. 

"Mr. Oak, I have investigated you thoroughly--as thoroughly as it canbe done, at least. My attorneys say that your reputation is A-one;that you get things done and rarely disappoint a client. "

He paused as if waiting for a comment. I gave him nothing. 

After a moment, he went on. "I hope that's true, Mr. Oak, because I'mgoing to have to trust you. " He leaned back in his chair again, hiseyes still on me. "Men very rarely like me, Mr. Oak. I am not alikable man. I do not pretend to be. That's not my function. " He saidit as if he had said it many times before, believed it, and wished itwasn't so. 

"I do not ask that you like me, " he continued. "I only ask that you beloyal to my interests for the duration of this assignment. " Anotherpause. "I have been assured by others that this will be so. I wouldlike your assurance. "

"If I take the assignment, Mr. Ravenhurst, " I told him, "I'll beworking for _you_. I can be bought, but once I'm bought I stay bought. 

"Now, what seems to be your trouble?"

He frowned. "Well, now, let's get one thing settled: Are you workingfor me, or not?"

"I won't know that until I find out what the job is. "

His frown deepened. "Now, see here; this is very confidential work. What happens if I tell you and you decide not to work for me?"

I sighed. "Ravenhurst, right now, you're paying me to listen to you. Even if I don't take your job, I'm going to bill you for expenses andtime to come all the way out here. So, as far as listening isconcerned, I'm working for you now. If I don't like the job, I'llstill forget everything I'm told. All right?"

He didn't like it, but he had no choice. "All right, " he said. Hepolished off his glass of Madeira and refilled it. My own glass wasstill nearly full. 

"Mr. Oak, " he began, "I have two problems. One is minor, the othermajor. But I have attempted to blow the minor problem up out ofproportion, so that all the people here at Raven's Rest think that itis the only problem. They think that I brought you out here for thatreason alone. 

"But all that is merely cover-up for the real problem. "

"Which is?" I prompted. 

He leaned forward again. Apparently, it was the only exercise he evergot. "You're aware that Viking Spacecraft is one of the corporationsunder the management of Ravenhurst Holdings?"

I nodded. Viking Spacecraft built some of the biggest and bestspacecraft in the System. It held most of Ceres--all of it, in fact, except the Government Reservation. It had moved out to the asteroids along time back, after the big mining concerns began cutting up thesmaller asteroids for metal. The raw materials are easier to come byout here than they are on Earth, and it's a devil of a lot easier tobuild spacecraft under low-gee conditions than it is under the pull ofEarth or Luna or Mars. 

"Do you know anything about the experimental robotic ships being builton Eros?" Ravenhurst asked. 

"Not much, " I admitted. "I've heard about them, but I don't know anyof the details. " That wasn't quite true, but I've found it doesn't payto tell everybody everything you know. 

"The engineering details aren't necessary, " Ravenhurst said. "Besides, I don't know them, myself. The point is that Viking is trying to builda ship that will be as easy to operate as a flitterboat--a one-mancargo vessel. Perhaps even a completely automatic job for cargo, andjust use a one-man crew for the passenger vessels. Imagine how thatwould cut the cost of transportation in the Solar System! Imagine howit would open up high-speed cargo transfer if an automatic vesselcould accelerate at twenty or twenty-five gees to turnover!"

I'll give Ravenhurst this: He had a light in his eyes that showed areal excitement about the prospect he was discussing, and it wasn'tdue entirely to the money he might make. 

"Sounds fine, " I said. "What seems to be the trouble?"

His face darkened half a shade. "The company police suspect sabotage, Mr. Oak. "

"How? What kind?"

[Illustration]

"They don't know. Viking has built six ships of that type--the McGuireclass, the engineers call it. Each one has been slightly differentthan the one before, of course, as they ironed out the bugs in theiroperation. But each one has been a failure. Not one of them would passthe test for space-worthiness. "

"Not a failure of the drive or the ordinary mechanisms of the ship, Itake it?"

Ravenhurst sniffed. "Of course not. The brain. The ships became, asyou might say, _non compos mentis_. As a matter of fact, when the lastone simply tried to burrow into the surface of Eros by reversing itsdrive, one of the roboticists said that a coroner's jury would havereturned a verdict of 'suicide while of unsound mind' if there wereinquests held for spaceships. "

"That doesn't make much sense, " I said. 

"No. It doesn't. It isn't sensible. Those ships' brains shouldn't havebehaved that way. Robot brains don't go mad unless they're giveninstructions to do so--conflicting orders, erroneous information, thatsort of thing. Or, unless they have actual physical defects in thebrains themselves. "

"The brains can handle the job of flying a ship all right, though?" Iasked. "I mean, they have the capacity for it?"

"Certainly. They're the same type that's used to control theautomobile traffic on the Eastern Seaboard Highway Network of NorthAmerica. If they can control the movement of millions of cars, there'sno reason why they can't control a spaceship. "

"No, " I said, "I suppose not. " I thought it over for a second, thenasked, "But what do your robotics men say is causing themalfunctions?"

"That's where the problem comes in, Mr. Oak. " He pursed his pudgylips, and his eyes narrowed. "The opinions are divided. Some of themen say it's simply a case of engineering failure--that the bugshaven't been worked out of this new combination, but that as soon asthey are, everything will work as smoothly as butter. Others say thatonly deliberate tampering could cause those failures. And still otherssay that there's not enough evidence to prove either of those theoriesis correct. "

"But your opinion is that it's sabotage?"

"Exactly, " said Ravenhurst, "and I know who is doing it and why. "

I didn't try to conceal the little bit of surprise that gave me. "Youknow the man who's responsible?"

He shook his head rapidly, making his jowls wobble. "I didn't meanthat. It's not a single man; it's a group. "

"Maybe you'd better go into a little more detail on that, Mr. Ravenhurst. "

He nodded, and this time his jowls bobbled instead of wobbled. "Somegroup at Viking is trying to run me out of the managerial business. They want Viking to be managed by Thurston Enterprises; they evidentlythink they can get a better deal from him than they can from me. Ifthe McGuire project fails, they'll have a good chance of convincingthe stock-holders that the fault lies with Ravenhurst. You follow?"

"So far, " I said. "Do you think Thurston's behind this, then?"

"I don't know, " he said slowly. "He might be, or he might not. If heis, that's perfectly legitimate business tactics. He's got a perfectright to try to get more business for himself if he wants to. I'veundercut him a couple of times. 

"But I don't think he's too deeply involved, if he's involved at all. This smacks of a personal attack against me, and I don't think that'sThurston's type of play. 

"You see, things are a little touchy right now. I won't go intodetails, but you know what the political situation is at the moment. 

"It works this way, as far as Viking is concerned: If I lose themanagerial contract at Viking, a couple of my other contracts will goby the board, too--especially if it's proved that I've been lax inmanagement or have been expending credit needlessly. 

"These other two companies are actually a little shaky at the moment;I've only been managing them for a little over a year in one case andtwo years in the other. Their assets have come up since I took over, but they'd still dump me if they thought I was reckless. "

"How can they do that?" I asked. "You have a contract, don't you?"

"Certainly. They wouldn't break it. But they'd likely ask theGovernment Inspectors to step in and check every step of themanagerial work. Now, you and I and everybody else knows that you haveto cut corners to make a business successful. If the GI's step in, that will have to stop--which means we'll show a loss heavy enough toput us out. We'll be forced to sell the contract for a pittance. 

"Well, then. If Viking goes, and these other two corporations go, it'll begin to look as if Ravenhurst can't take care of himself andhis companies anymore. Others will climb on the bandwagon. Contractsthat are coming up for renewal will be reconsidered instead ofcontinuing automatically. I think you can see where that would leadeventually. "

I did. You don't go into the managing business these days unless youhave plenty on the ball. You've got to know all the principles and allthe tricks of organization and communication, and you've got to beable to waltz your way around all the roadblocks that are caused byGovernment laws--some of which have been floating around on the booksof one nation or another for two or three centuries. 

Did you know that there's a law on the American statute books thatforbids the landing of a spaceship within one hundred miles of a city?That was passed back when they were using rockets, but it's never beenrepealed. Technically, then, it's almost impossible to land a shipanywhere on the North American continent. Long Island Spaceport isopenly flouting the law, if you want to look at it that way. 

A managerial combine has to know all those little things and know howto get around them. It has to be able to have the confidence of thestock-holders of a corporation--if it's run on the Western Plan--orthe confidence of communal owners if it's run on the Eastern Plan. 

Something like this could snowball on Ravenhurst. It isn't only therats that desert a sinking ship; so does anyone else who has anysense. 

"What I want to know, Mr. Oak, " Ravenhurst continued, "is who isbehind this plot, whether an individual or a group. I want to knowidentity and motivation. "

"Is that all?" I eyed him skeptically. 

"No. Of course not. I want you to make sure that the MG-YR-7 isn'tsabotaged. I want you to make sure it's protected from whatever kindof monkey wrenches are being thrown into its works. "

"It's nearly ready for testing now, isn't it?" I asked. 

"It is ready. It seems to be in perfect condition so far. Viking isalready looking for a test pilot. It's still in working order now, andI want to be certain that it will remain so. "

I cocked my head to one side and gave him my Interrogative AndSuspicious Glance--Number 9 in the manual. "You didn't do any checkingon the first six McGuire ships. You wait until this one is done beforecalling me. Why the delay, Ravenhurst?"

It didn't faze him. "I became suspicious after McGuire 6 failed. I putColonel Brock on it. "

I nodded. I'd had dealings with Brock. He was head of Ravenhurst'sSecurity Guard. "Brock didn't get anywhere, " I said. 

"He did not. His own face is too well known for him to haveinvestigated personally, and he's not enough of an actor to get awaywith using a plexiskin mask. He had to use underlings. And I'm afraidsome of them might be in the pay of the . . . Ah . . . Opposition. Theygot nowhere. "

"In other words, you may have spies in your own organization who areworking with the Viking group. Very interesting. That means they knowI'm working for you, which will effectively seal me up, too. You mightas well have kept Brock on the job. "

He smiled in a smug, superior sort of way that some men might haveresented. I did. Even though I'd fed him the line so that he couldfeel superior, knowing that a smart operator like Ravenhurst wouldalready have covered his tracks. I couldn't help wishing I'd told himsimply to trot out his cover story instead of letting him think Ibelieved it had never occurred to either of us before. 

"As far as my staff knows, Mr. Oak, you are here to escort mydaughter, Jaqueline, to Braunsville, Luna. You will, naturally, haveto take her to Ceres in your flitterboat, where you will wait for aspecially chartered ship to take you both to Luna. That will be a weekafter you arrive. Since the McGuire 7 is to be tested within threedays, that should give you ample time. "

"If it doesn't?"

"We will consider that possibility if and when it becomes probable. Ihave a great deal of faith in you. "

"Thanks. One more thing: why do you think anybody will swallow theidea that your daughter needs a private bodyguard to escort her toBraunsville?"

His smile broadened a little. "You have not met my daughter, Mr. Oak. Jaqueline takes after me in a great many respects, not the least ofwhich is her desire to have things her own way and submit to no man'syoke, as the saying goes. I have had a difficult time with her, sir; adifficult time. It is and has been a matter of steering a narrowcourse between the Scylla of breaking her spirit with too muchdiscipline and the Charybdis of allowing her to ruin her life byletting her go hog wild. She is seventeen now, and the time has cometo send her to a school where she will receive an education suitableto her potentialities and abilities, and discipline which will besuitable to her spirit. 

"Your job, Mr. Oak, will be to make sure she gets there. You are not abodyguard in the sense that you must protect her from the peoplearound her. Quite the contrary, _they_ may need protection from _her_. You are to make sure she arrives in Braunsville on schedule. She isperfectly capable of taking it in her head to go scooting off to Earthif you turn your back on her. "

Still smiling, he refilled his glass. "Do have some more Madeira, Mr. Oak. It's really an excellent year. "

I let him refill my glass. 

"That, I think, will cover your real activities well enough. Mydaughter will, of course, take a tour of the plant on Ceres, whichwill allow you to do whatever work is necessary. "

He smiled at me. 

I didn't smile back. 

"Up till now, this sounded like a pretty nice assignment, " I said. "But I don't want it now. I can't take care of a teenage girl with adesire for the bright lights of Earth while I investigate a sabotagecase. "

I knew he had an out; I was just prodding him into springing it. 

He did. "Of course not. My daughter is not as scatterbrained as I havepainted her. She is going to help you. "

"_Help_ me?"

"Exactly. You are ostensibly her bodyguard. If she turns up missing, you will, of course, leave no stone unturned to find her. " Hechuckled. "And Ceres is a fairly large stone. "

I thought it over. I still didn't like it too well, but if Jaquelinewasn't going to be too much trouble to take care of, it might workout. And if she did get to be too much trouble, I could see to it thatshe was unofficially detained for a while. 

"All right, Mr. Ravenhurst, " I said, "you've got yourself a man forboth jobs. "

"Both?"

"I find out who is trying to sabotage the McGuire ship, and I baby-sitfor you. That's two jobs. And you're going to pay for both of them. "

"I expected to, " said Shalimar Ravenhurst. 

Fifteen minutes later, I was walking into the room where I'd left myvac suit. There was a girl waiting for me. 

She was already dressed in her vac suit, so there was no way to be sure, but she looked as if she had a nice figure underneath the suit. Her facewas rather unexceptionally pretty, a sort of nice-girl-next-door face. Herhair was a reddish brown and was cut fairly close to the skull; only awoman who never intends to be in a vac suit in free fall can afford to lether hair grow. 

"Miss Ravenhurst?" I asked. 

She grinned and stuck out a hand. "Just call me Jack. And I'll callyou Dan. O. K. ?"

I grinned and shook her hand because there wasn't much else I coulddo. Now I'd met the Ravenhursts: A father called Shalimar and adaughter called Jack. 

And a spaceship named McGuire. 

 * * * * *

I gave the flitterboat all the push it would take to get us to Ceresas fast as possible. I don't like riding in the things. You sit thereinside a transite hull, which has two bucket seats inside it, fore andaft, astraddle the drive tube, and you guide from one beacon to thenext while you keep tabs on orbital positions by radio. It's a longjump from one rock to the next, even in the asteroid belt, and youhave to live inside your vac suit until you come to a stopping placewhere you can spend an hour or so resting before you go on. It's likedriving cross-continent in an automobile, except that the signpostsand landmarks are constantly shifting position. An inexperienced mancan get lost easily in the Belt. 

I was happy to find that Jack Ravenhurst knew how to handle aflitterboat and could sight navigate by the stars. That meant that Icould sleep while she piloted and vice-versa. The trip back was a loteasier and faster than the trip out had been. 

I was glad, in a way, that Ceres was within flitterboat range ofRaven's Rest. I don't like the time wasted in waiting for a regularspaceship, which you have to do when your target is a quarter of theway around the Belt from you. The cross-system jumps don't take long, but getting to a ship takes time. 

The Ravenhurst girl wasn't much of a talker while we were en route. Alittle general chitchat once in a while, then she'd clam up to do alittle mental orbit figuring. I didn't mind. I was in no mood to pumpher just yet, and I was usually figuring orbits myself. You get in thehabit after a while. 

When the Ceres beacon came into view, I was snoozing. Jack reachedforward and shook my shoulder. "Decelerating toward Ceres, " she said. "Want to take over from here on?" Her voice sounded tinny and tired inthe earphones of my fishbowl. 

"O. K. ; I'll take her in. Have you called Ceres Field yet?"

"Not yet. I figured that you'd better do that, since it's yourflitterboat. "

I said O. K. And called Ceres. They gave me a traffic orbit, and Ifollowed it in to Ceres Field. 

It was a lot bigger than the postage-stamp field on Raven's Rest, andmore brightly lit, and a lot busier, but it was basically the sameidea--a broad, wide, smooth area that had been carved out of thesurface of the nickel-iron with a focused sun beam. One end of it wasreserved for flitterboats; three big spaceships sat on the other end, looking very _noblesse oblige_ at the little flitterboats. 

I clamped down, gave the key to one of the men behind the desk afterwe had gone below, and turned to Jack. "I suggest we go to the hotelfirst and get a shower and a little rest. We can go out to Vikingtomorrow. "

She glanced at her watch. Like every other watch and clock in theBelt, it was set for Greenwich Standard Time. What's the point inhaving time zones in space?

"I'm not tired, " she said brightly. "I got plenty of sleep while wewere on the way. Why don't we go out tonight? They've got abounce-dance place called _Bali_'s that--"

I held up a hand. "No. You may not be tired, but I am. Remember, Iwent all the way out there by myself, and then came right back. 

"I need at least six hours sleep in a nice, comfortable bed beforeI'll be able to move again. "

The look she gave me made me feel every one of my thirty-five years, but I didn't intend to let her go roaming around at this stage of thegame. 

Instead, I put her aboard one of the little rail cars, and we headedfor the Viking Arms, generally considered the best hotel on Ceres. 

Ceres has a pretty respectable gee pull for a planetoid: Three percent of Standard. I weigh a good, hefty five pounds on the surface. That makes it a lot easier to walk around on Ceres than on, say, Raven's Rest. Even so, you always get the impression that one of thelittle rail cars that scoots along the corridors is climbing uphillall the way, because the acceleration is greater than any measlythirty centimeters per second squared. 

Jack didn't say another word until we reached the Viking, whereRavenhurst had thoughtfully made reservations for adjoining rooms. Then, after we'd registered, she said: "We could at least getsomething to eat. "

"That's not a bad idea. We can get something to line our stomachs, anyway. Steak?"

She beamed up at me. "Steak. Sounds wonderful after all those mushyconcentrates. Let's go. "

 * * * * *

The restaurant off the lobby was just like the lobby and the corridorsoutside--a big room hollowed out of the metal of the asteroid. Thewalls had been painted to prevent rusting, but they still bore theroughness left by the sun beam that had burnt them out. 

We sat down at a table, and a waiter brought over a menu. The placewouldn't be classed higher than a third-rate cafe on Earth, but onCeres it's considered one of the better places. The prices certainlycompare well with those of the best New York or Moscow restaurants, and the price of meat, which has to be shipped from Earth, is--youshould pardon the gag--astronomical. 

That didn't bother me. Steaks for two would go right on the expenseaccount. I mentally thanked Mr. Ravenhurst for the fine slab of beefwhen the waiter finally brought it. 

While we were waiting, though, I lit a cigarette and said: "You'reawfully quiet, Jack. "

"Am I? Men are funny. "

"Is that meant as a conversational gambit, or an honest observation?"

"Observation. I mean, men are always complaining that girls talk toomuch, but if a girl keeps her mouth shut, they think there's somethingwrong with her. "

"Uh-huh. And you think that's a paradox or something?"

She looked puzzled. "Isn't it?"

"Not at all. The noise a jackhammer makes isn't pleasant at all, butif it doesn't make that noise, you figure it isn't functioningproperly. So you wonder why. "

Out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed a man wearing theblack-and-gold union suit of Ravenhurst's Security Guard coming towardus from the door, using the gliding shuffle that works best under lowgee. I ignored him to listen to Jack Ravenhurst. 

"That has all the earmarks of a dirty crack, " she said. The tone ofher voice indicated that she wasn't sure whether to be angry or tolaugh. 

"Hello, Miss Ravenhurst; Hi, Oak. " Colonel Brock had reached thetable. He stood there, smiling his rather flat smile, while his eyeslooked us both over carefully. 

[Illustration]

He was five feet ten, an inch shorter than I am, and lean almost tothe point of emaciation. His scarred, hard-bitten face looked asthough it had gotten that way when he tried to kiss a crocodile. 

"Hello, Brock, " I said. "What's new?"

Jack gave him a meaningless smile and said: "Hello, colonel. " She wasobviously not very impressed with either of us. 

"Mind if I sit?" Brock asked. 

We didn't, so he sat. 

"I'm sorry I missed you at the spaceport, " Brock said seriously, "butI had several of my boys there with their eyes open. " He was quiteobviously addressing Jack, not me. 

"It's all right, " Jack said. "I'm not going anywhere this time. " Shelooked at me and gave me an odd grin. "I'm going to stay home and be agood girl this time around. "

Colonel Brock's good-natured chuckle sounded about as genuine as thering of a lead nickel. "Oh, you're no trouble, Miss Ravenhurst. "

"Thank you, kind sir; you're a poor liar. " She stood up and smiledsweetly. "Will you gentlemen excuse me a moment?"

We would and did. Colonel Brock and I watched her cross the room anddisappear through a door. Then he turned to look at me, giving me awry grin and shaking his head a little sadly. "So you got saddled withJack the Ripper, eh, Oak?"

"Is she that bad?"

His chuckle was harsher this time, and had the ring of truth. "You'llfind out. Oh, I don't mean she's got the morals of a cat or anythinglike that. So far as I know, she's still waiting for Mister Right tocome along. "

"Drugs?" I asked. "Liquor?"

"A few drinks now and then--nothing else, " Brock said. "No, it's noneof the usual things. It isn't what _she_ does that counts; it's whatshe talks other people into doing. She's a convincer. "

"That sounds impressive, " I said. "What does it mean?"

His hard face looked wolfish, "I ought to let you find out foryourself. But, no; that wouldn't be professional courtesy, and itwouldn't be ethical. "

"Brock, " I said tiredly, "I have been given more runarounds in thepast week than Mercury has had in the past millennium. I expectclients to be cagey, to hold back information, and to lie. But Ididn't expect it of you. Give. "

He nodded brusquely. "As I said, she's a convincer. A talker. She cantalk people into doing almost anything she wants them to. "

"For instance?"

"Like, for instance, getting all the patrons at the _Bali_ to do asnake dance around the corridors in the altogether. The Ceres policebroke it up, but she was nowhere to be found. "

He said it so innocently that I knew he'd been the one to get her outof the mess. 

"And the time, " he continued, "that she almost succeeded in getting awelder named Plotkin elected Hereditary Czar of Ceres. She'd havesucceeded, too, if she hadn't made the mistake of getting Plotkinhimself up to speak in front of his loyal supporters. After that, everybody felt so silly that the movement fell apart. "

He went on, reciting half a dozen more instances of the girl's abilityto influence people without winning friends. None of them were new tome; they were all on file in the Political Survey Division of theUnited Nations Government on Earth, plus several more which ColonelBrock either neglected to tell me or wasn't aware of himself. 

But I listened with interest; after all, I wasn't supposed to know anyof these things. I am just a plain, ordinary, "confidentialexpediter". That's what it says on the door of my office in New York, and that's what it says on my license. All very legal and verydishonest. 

The Political Survey Division is very legal and very dishonest, too. Theoretically, it is supposed to be nothing but a branch of the SystemCensus Bureau; it is supposed to do nothing but observe and tabulatepolitical trends. The actual fact that it is the Secret Service branchof the United Nations Government is known only to relatively fewpeople. 

I know it because I work for the Political Survey Division. 

The PSD already had men investigating both Ravenhurst and Thurston, but when they found out that Ravenhurst was looking for a confidentialexpediter, for a special job, they'd shoved me in fast. 

It isn't easy to fool sharp operators like Colonel Brock, but, so far, I'dbeen lucky enough to get away with it by playing ignorant-but-not-stupid. 

The steaks were brought, and I mentally saluted Ravenhurst, as I hadpromised myself I would. Then I rather belatedly asked the colonel ifhe'd eat with us. 

"No, " he said, with a shake of his head. "No, thanks. I've got to getthings ready for her visit to the Viking plant tomorrow. "

"Oh? Hiding something?" I asked blandly. 

He didn't even bother to look insulted. "No. Just have to make sureshe doesn't get hurt by any of the machinery, that's all. Most of thestuff is automatic, and she has a habit of getting too close. I guessshe thinks she can talk a machine out of hurting her as easily as shecan talk a man into standing on his head. "

Jack Ravenhurst was coming back to the table. I noticed that she'dfixed her hair nicely and put on make-up. It made her look a lot morefeminine than she had while she was on the flitterboat. 

"Well, " she said as she sat down, "have you two decided what to dowith me?"

Colonel Brock just smiled and said: "I guess we'll have to leave thatup to you, Miss Ravenhurst. " Then he stood up. "Now, if you'll excuseme, I'll be about my business. "

Jack nodded, gave him a quick smile, and fell to on her steak with thevoraciousness of an unfed chicken in a wheat bin. 

Miss Jaqueline Ravenhurst evidently had no desire to talk to me at themoment. 

 * * * * *

On Ceres, as on most of the major planetoids, a man's home is hiscastle, even if it's only a hotel room. Raw nickel-iron, the basicbuilding material, is so cheap that walls and doors are seldom made ofanything else, so a hotel room is more like a vault than anything elseon Earth. Every time I go into one of the hotels on Ceres or Eros, Iget the feeling that I'm either a bundle of gold certificates or aparticularly obstreperous prisoner being led to a medieval solitaryconfinement cell. They're not pretty, but they're _solid_. 

Jack Ravenhurst went into her own room after flashing me a rather hurtsmile that was supposed to indicate her disappointment in not beingallowed to go nightclubbing. I gave her a big-brotherly pat on theshoulder and told her to get plenty of sleep, since we had to be upbright and early in the morning. 

Once inside my own room, I checked over my luggage carefully. It hadbeen brought there from the spaceport, where I'd checked it beforegoing to Ravenhurst's Raven's Rest, on orders from Ravenhurst himself. This was one of several rooms that Ravenhurst kept permanently rentedfor his own uses, and I knew that Jack kept a complete wardrobe in herown rooms. 

There were no bugs in my luggage--neither sound nor sight spyingdevices of any kind. Not that I would have worried if there had been;I just wanted to see if anyone was crude enough to try that method ofsmuggling a bug into the apartment. 

The door chime pinged solemnly. 

I took a peek through the door camera and saw a man in a bellboy'suniform, holding a large traveling case. I recognized the face, so Ilet him in. 

"The rest of your luggage, sir, " he said with a straight face. 

"Thank you very much, " I told him. I handed him a tip, and he poppedoff. 

This stuff was special equipment that I hadn't wanted Ravenhurst oranybody else to get his paws into. 

I opened it carefully with the special key, slid a hand under theclothing that lay on top for camouflage, and palmed the littledetector I needed. Then I went around the room, whistling gently tomyself. 

The nice thing about an all-metal room is that it's impossible to hidea self-contained bug in it that will be of any use. A small, concealedbroadcaster can't broadcast any farther than the walls, so any bug hasto have wires leading out of the room. 

I didn't find a thing. Either Ravenhurst kept the room clean orsomebody was using more sophisticated bugs than any I knew about. Iopened the traveling case again and took out one of my favoritegadgets. It's a simple thing, really: a noise generator. But the noiseit generates is non-random noise. Against a background of "white, "purely random noise, it is possible to pick out a conversation, evenif the conversation is below the noise level, simply becauseconversation is patterned. But this little generator of mine wasnon-random. It was the multiple recording of ten thousand differentconversations, all meaningless, against a background of "white" noise. Try that one on your differential analyzers. 

By the time I got through, nobody could tap a dialogue in that room, barring, as I said, bugs more sophisticated than any the UnitedNations knew about. 

 * * * * *

Then I went over and tapped on the communicating door between my roomand Jack Ravenhurst's. There was no answer. 

I said, "Jack, I'm coming in. I have a key. "

She said, "Go away. I'm not dressed. I'm going to bed. "

"Grab something quick, " I told her. "I'm coming in. "

I keyed open the door. 

She was no more dressed for bed than I was, unless she made a habit ofsleeping in her best evening togs. Anger blazed in her eyes for asecond, then that faded, and she tried to look all sweetness andlight. 

"I was trying on some new clothes, " she said innocently. 

A lot of people might have believed her. The emotional field she threwout, encouraging utter belief in her every word, was as powerful asany I'd ever felt. I just let it wash past me and said: "Come into myroom for a few minutes, Jack; I want to talk to you. "

I didn't put any particular emphasis into it. I don't have to. Shecame. 

Once we were both inside my shielded room with the walls vibratingwith ten thousand voices and a hush area in the center, I saidpatiently, "Jack, I personally don't care where you go or what you do. Tomorrow, you can do your vanishing act and have yourself a ball, forall I care. But there are certain things that have to be done first. Now, sit down and listen. "

She sat down, her eyes wide. Evidently, nobody had ever beaten her ather own game before. 

"Tonight, you'll stay here and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we go for atour of Viking, first thing in the morning. Tomorrow afternoon, assoon as I think the time is ripe, you can sneak off. I'll show you howto change your appearance so you won't be recognized. You can have allthe fun you want for twenty-four hours. I, of course, will be huntinghigh and low for you, but I won't find you until I have finished myinvestigation. 

"On the other hand, I want to know where you are at all times, so thatI can get in touch with you if I need you. So, no matter where youare, you'll keep in touch by phoning BANning 6226 every time youchange location. Got that number?"

She nodded. "BANning 6226, " she repeated. 

"Fine. Now, Brock's agents will be watching you, so I'll have tofigure out a way to get you away from them, but that won't be toohard. I'll let you know at the proper time. Meanwhile, get back inthere, get ready for bed, and get some sleep. You'll need it. Move. "

She nodded rather dazedly, got up, and went to the door. She turned, said goodnight in a low, puzzled voice, and closed the door. 

Half an hour later, I quietly sneaked into her room just to check. Shewas sound asleep in bed. I went back to my own room, and got some sacktime myself. 

 * * * * *

"It's a pleasure to have you here again, Miss Ravenhurst, " said ChiefEngineer Midguard. "Anything in particular you want to see this time?"He said it as though he actually enjoyed taking the boss' teenagedaughter through a spacecraft plant. 

Maybe he did, at that. He was a paunchy, graying man in his sixties, who had probably been a rather handsome lady-killer for the firsthalf-century of his life, but he was approaching middle age now, whichhas a predictable effect on the telly-idol type. 

Jack Ravenhurst was at her regal best, with the kind of _noblesseoblige_ that would bring worshipful gratitude to the heart of anyunderling. "Oh, just a quick run-through on whatever you think wouldbe interesting, Mr. Midguard; I don't want to take up too much of yourtime. "

Midguard allowed as how he had a few interesting things to show her, and the party, which also included the watchful and taciturn ColonelBrock, began to make the rounds of the Viking plant. 

There were three ships under construction at the time: two cargovessels and a good-sized passenger job. Midguard seemed to think thatevery step of spacecraft construction was utterly fascinating--forwhich, bully for him--but it was pretty much of a drag as far as I wasconcerned. It took three hours. 

Finally, he said, "Would you like to see the McGuire-7?"

Why, yes, of course she would. So we toddled off to the new ship whileMidguard kept up a steady line of patter. 

"We think we have all the computer errors out of this one, MissRavenhurst. A matter of new controls and safety devices. We feel thatthe trouble with the first six machines was that they were designed tobe operated by voice orders by any qualified human operator. Thetrouble is that they had no way of telling just who was qualified. Thebrains are perfectly capable of distinguishing one individual fromanother, but they can't tell whether a given individual is a spacepilot or a janitor. In fact--"

I marked the salient points in his speech. The MG-YR-7 would bestrictly a one-man ship. It had a built-in dog attitude--friendlytoward all humans, but loyal only to its master. Of course, it waslikely that the ship would outlast its master, so its loyalties couldbe changed, but only by the use of special switching keys. 

The robotics boys still weren't sure why the first six had goneinsane, but they were fairly certain that the primary cause was thematter of too many masters. The brilliant biophysicist, Asenion, whopromulgated the Three Laws of Robotics in the last century, had shownin his writings that they were unattainable ideals--that they onlytold what a perfect robot _should_ be, not what a robot actually was. 

[Illustration]

The First Law, for instance, would forbid a robot to harm a humanbeing, either by action or inaction. But, as Asenion showed, a robotcould be faced with a situation which allowed for only two possibledecisions, both of which required that a human being be harmed. Insuch a case, the robot goes insane. 

I found myself speculating what sort of situation, what sort ofAsenion paradox, had confronted those first six ships. And whether ithad been by accident or design. Not that the McGuire robots had beenbuilt in strict accord with the Laws of Robotics; that was impossibleon the face of it. But no matter how a perfectly logical machine isbuilt, the human mind can figure out a way to goof it up because thehuman mind is capable of transcending logic. 

 * * * * *

The McGuire ship was a little beauty. A nice, sleek, needle, capableof atmospheric as well as spatial navigation, with a mirror-polished, beryl-blue surface all over the sixty-five feet of her--orhis?--length. 

It was standing upright on the surface of the planetoid, a shiningneedle in the shifting sunlight, limned against the star-filleddarkness of space. We looked at it through the transparent viewport, and then took the flexible tube that led to the air lock of the ship. 

The ship was just as beautiful inside as it was outside. Neat, compact, and efficient. The control room--if such it could becalled--was like no control room I'd ever seen before. Just anacceleration couch and observation instruments. Midguard explainedthat it wasn't necessary to be a pilot to run the ship; any person whoknew a smattering of astronavigation could get to his destination bysimply telling the ship what he wanted to do. 

Jack Ravenhurst took in the whole thing with wide-eyed interest. 

"Is the brain activated, Mr. Midguard?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes. We've been educating him for the past month, pumpinginformation in as rapidly as he could record it and index it. He'sfinished with that stage now; we're just waiting for the selection ofa test pilot for the final shakedown cruise. " He was looking warily atJack as he spoke, as if he were waiting for something. 

Evidently, he knew what was coming. "I'd like to talk to him, " Jacksaid. "It's so interesting to carry on an intelligent conversationwith a machine. "

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Miss Ravenhurst, " Midguard said ratherworriedly. "You see, McGuire's primed so that the first man's voice hehears will be identified as his master. It's what we call the 'chickreaction'. You know: the first moving thing a newly-hatched bird seesis regarded as the mother, and, once implanted, that order can't berescinded. We can change McGuire's orientation in that respect, butwe'd rather not have to go through that. After the test pilotestablishes contact, you can talk to him all you want. "

"When will the test pilot be here?" Jack asked, still as sweet assucrodyne. 

"Within a few days. It looks as though a man named Nels Bjornsen willbe our choice. You may have heard of him. "

"No, " she said, "but I'm sure your choice will be correct. "

Midguard still felt apologetic. "Well, you know how it is, MissRavenhurst; we can't turn a delicate machine like this over to justanyone for the first trial. He has to be a man of good judgment andfast reflexes. He has to know exactly what to say and when to say it, if you follow me. "

"Oh, certainly; certainly. " She paused and looked thoughtful. "Ipresume you've taken precautions against anyone stealing in here andtaking control of the ship. "

Midguard smiled and nodded wisely. "Certainly. Communication withMcGuire can't be established unless and until two keys are used in theactivating panel. I carry one; Colonel Brock has the other. Neitherof us will give his key up to anyone but the accredited test pilot. And McGuire himself will scream out an alarm if anyone tries to jimmythe locks. He's his own burglar alarm. "

She nodded. "I see. " A pause. "Well, Mr. Midguard, I think you've donea very commendable job. Thank you so much. Is there anything else youfeel I should see?"

"Well--" He was smilingly hesitant. "If there's anything else you want tosee, I'll be glad to show it to you. But you've already seenour . . . Ah . . . _piece de resistance_, so to speak. "

She glanced at her wrist. It had been over four hours since we'dstarted. "I am rather tired, " Jack said. "And hungry, too. Let's callit a day and go get something to eat. "

"Fine! Fine!" Midguard said. "I'll be honored to be your host, if Imay. We could have a little something at my apartment. "

I knew perfectly well that he'd had a full lunch prepared and waiting. 

The girl acknowledged his invitation and accepted it. Brock and Itrailed along like the bodyguards we were supposed to be. I wonderedwhether or not Brock suspected me of being more than I appeared to be. If he didn't, he was stupider than I thought; on the other hand, hecould never be sure. I wasn't worried about his finding out that I wasa United Nations agent; that was a pretty remote chance. Brock didn'teven know the United Nations Government _had_ a Secret Service; it wasunlikely that he would suspect me of being an agent of a presumablynonexistent body. 

But he could very easily suspect that I had been sent to check on himand the Thurston menace, and, if he had any sense, he actually did. Iwasn't going to give him any verification of that suspicion if I couldhelp it. 

 * * * * *

Midguard had an apartment in the executive territory of the Vikingreservation, a fairly large place with plastic-lined walls instead ofthe usual painted nickel-iron. Very luxurious for Ceres. 

The meal was served with an air of subdued pretension that madeeverybody a little stiff and uncomfortable, with the possibleexception of Jack Ravenhurst, and the definite exception of myself. Ijust listened politely to the strained courtesy that passed for smalltalk and waited for the chance I knew would come at this meal. 

After the eating was all over, and we were all sitting around withcigarettes going and wine in our glasses, I gave the girl the signalwe had agreed upon. She excused herself very prettily and left theroom. 

After fifteen minutes, I began to look a little worried. The bathroomwas only a room away--we were in a dining area, and the bathroom wasjust off the main bedroom--and it shouldn't have taken her that longto brush her hair and powder her face. 

I casually mentioned it to Colonel Brock, and he smiled a little. 

"Don't worry, Oak; even if she does walk out of this apartment, my menwill be following her wherever she goes. I'd have a report within oneminute after she left. "

I nodded, apparently satisfied. "I've been relying on that, " I said. "Otherwise, I'd have followed her to the door. "

He chuckled and looked pleased. 

Ten minutes after that, even he was beginning to look a littleworried. "Maybe we'd better go check, " he said. "She might have hurtherself or . . . Or become ill. "

Midguard looked flustered. "Now, just a minute, colonel! I can't allowyou to just barge in on a young girl in the . . . Ah . . . Bathroom. Especially not Miss Ravenhurst. "

Brock made his decision fast; I'll give him credit for that. 

"Get Miss Pangloss on the phone!" he snapped. "She's just down thecorridor. She'll come down on your orders. "

At the same time, he got to his feet and made a long jump for thedoor. He grabbed the doorpost as he went by, swung himself in a neworbit, and launched himself toward the front door. "Knock on thebathroom door, Oak!" he bawled as he left. 

I did a long, low, flat dive toward the bedroom, swung left, andbrought myself up sharply next to the bathroom door. I pounded on thedoor. "Miss Ravenhurst! Jack! Are you all right?"

No answer. 

Good. There shouldn't have been. 

Colonel Brock fired himself into the room and braked himself againstthe wall. "Any answer?"

"No. "

"My men outside say she hasn't left. " He rapped sharply on the doorwith the butt of his stun gun. "Miss Ravenhurst! Is there anything thematter?"

Again, no answer. 

I could see that Brock was debating on whether he should go ahead andcharge in by himself without waiting for the female executive wholived down the way. He was still debating when the woman showed up, escorted by a couple of the colonel's uniformed guards. 

Miss Pangloss was one of those brisk, efficient, middle-agedcareer-women who had no fuss or frills about her. She had seen usknocking on the door, so she didn't bother to do any knocking herself. She just opened the door and went in. 

The bathroom was empty. 

Again, as it should be. 

All hell broke loose then, with me and Brock making most of theblather. It took us nearly ten minutes to find that the only personwho had left the area had been an elderly, thin man who had beenwearing the baggy protective clothing of a maintenance man. 

By that time, Jack Ravenhurst had been gone more than forty minutes. She could be almost anywhere on Ceres. 

Colonel Brock was furious and so was I. I sneered openly at hisassurance that the girl couldn't leave and then got sneered back atfor letting other people do what was supposed to be my job. Thatphase only lasted for about a minute, though. 

Then Colonel Brock muttered: "She must have had a plexiskin mask and awig and the maintenance clothing in her purse. As I recall, it was afairly good-sized one. " He didn't say a word about how careless I hadbeen to let her put such stuff in her purse. "All right, " he went on, "we'll find her. "

"I'm going to look around, too, " I said. "I'll keep in touch with youroffice. " I got out of there. 

 * * * * *

I got to a public phone as fast as I could, punched BANning 6226, andsaid: "Marty? Any word?"

"Not yet. "

"I'll call back. "

I hung up and scooted out of there. 

I spent the next several hours pushing my weight around all overCeres. As the personal representative of Shalimar Ravenhurst, who wasmanager of Viking Spacecraft, which was, in turn, the owner of Ceres, I had a lot of weight to push around. I had every executive on theplanetoid jumping before I was through. 

Colonel Brock, of course, was broiling in his own juices. He managedto get hold of me by phone once, by calling a Dr. Perelson whom I wasinterviewing at the time. 

The phone chimed, Perelson said, "Excuse me, " and went to answer. Icould hear his voice from the other room. 

"Mr. Daniel Oak? Yes; he's here. Well, yes. Oh, all sorts ofquestions, colonel. " Perelson's voice was both irritated and worried. "He says Miss Ravenhurst is missing; is that so? Oh? Well, does thisman have any right to question me this way? Asking me? Abouteverything!. . . How well I know the girl, the last time I sawher--things like that. Good heavens, we've hardly met!" He was gettingexasperated now. "But does he have the authority to ask thesequestions? Oh. Yes. Well, of course, I'll be glad to co-operate in anymanner I can . . . Yes . . . Yes. All right, I'll call him. "

I got up from the half-reclining angle I'd been making with the wall, and shuffled across the room as Dr. Perelson stuck his head around thecorner and said, "It's for you. " He looked as though someone had putaluminum hydrogen sulfate in his mouthwash. 

I picked up the receiver and looked at Brock's face in the screen. Hedidn't even give me a chance to talk. "What are you trying to do?" heshouted explosively. 

"Trying to find Jaqueline Ravenhurst, " I said, as calmly as I could. 

"Oak, you're a maniac! Why, by this time, it's all over Ceres that theboss' daughter is missing! Shalimar Ravenhurst will have your hide forthis!"

"He will?" I gave him Number 2--the wide-eyed innocent stare. "Why?"

"Why, you idiot, I thought you had sense enough to know that thisshould be kept quiet! She's pulled this stunt before, and we alwaysmanaged to quiet things down before anything happened! We've managedto keep everything under cover and out of the public eye ever sinceshe was fifteen, and now you blow it all up out of proportion andcreate a furore that won't ever be forgotten!"

He gave his speech as though it had been written for him in full caps, with three exclamation points after every sentence, and added gesturesand grimaces after every word. 

"Just doing what I thought was best, " I said. "I want to find her assoon as possible. "

"Well, stop it! Now! Let us handle it from here on in!"

Then I lowered the boom. "Now _you_ listen, Brock. I am in charge ofJack Ravenhurst, not you. I've lost her, and I'll find her. I'llwelcome your co-operation, and I'd hate to have to fight you, but ifyou don't like the way I'm handling it, you can just tell your boys togo back to their regular work and let me handle it alone, withoutinterference. Now, which'll it be?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and blew out his breath from betweenhis lips. Then he said: "All right. The damage has been done, anyhow. But don't think I won't report all this to Ravenhurst as soon as I canget a beam to Raven's Rest. "

"That's your job and your worry, not mine. Now, have you got anyleads?"

"None, " he admitted. 

"Then I'll go out and dig up some. I'll let you know if I need you. "And I cut off. 

Dr. Perelson was sitting on his couch, with an expression thatindicated that the pH of his saliva was hovering around one pointfive. 

I said, "That will be all, Dr. Perelson. Thank you for yourco-operation. " And I walked out into the corridor, leaving him with abaffled look. 

 * * * * *

At the next public phone, I dialed the BANning number again. 

"Any news?"

"Not from her; she hasn't reported in at all. "

"I didn't figure she would. What else?"

"Just as you said, " he told me. "With some cute frills around theedges. Ten minutes ago, a crowd of kids--sixteen to twenty-two agerange--about forty of 'em--started a songfest and football game in thecorridor outside Colonel Brock's place. The boys he had on duty thererecognized the Jack Ravenhurst touch, and tried to find her in thecrowd. Nothing doing. Not a sign of her. "

"That girl's not only got power, " I said, "but she's bright as a solarflare. "

"Agreed. She's headed up toward Dr. Midguard's place now. I don't knowwhat she has in mind, but it ought to be fun to watch. "

"Where's Midguard now?" I asked. 

"Hovering around Brock, as we figured. He's worried and feelsresponsible because she disappeared from his apartment, as predicted. "

"Well, I've stirred up enough fuss in this free-falling anthill togive them all the worries they need. Tell me what's the overalleffect?"

"Close to perfect. It's slightly scandalous and very mysterious, soeverybody's keeping an eye peeled. If anyone sees JaquelineRavenhurst, they'll run to a phone, and naturally she's been spottedby a dozen different people in a dozen different places already. 

"You've got both Brock's Company guards and the civil police tied upfor a while. "

"Fine. But be sure you keep the boys who are on her tail shiftingaround often enough so that she doesn't spot them. "

"Don't worry your thick little head about that, Dan, " he said. "Theyknow their business. Are you afraid they'll lose her?"

"No, I'm not, and you know it. I just don't want her to know she'sbeing followed. If she can't ditch her shadow, she's likely to try totalk to him and pull out all the stops convincing him that he shouldgo away. "

"You think she could? With _my_ boys?"

"No, but if she tries it, it'll mean she knows she's being followed. That'll make it tougher to keep a man on her trail. Besides, I don'twant her to try to convince him and fail. "

"_Ich graben Sie. _ On the off chance that she does spot one and giveshim a good talking to, I'll pass along the word that the victim is towalk away meekly and get lost. "

"Good, " I said, "but I'd rather she didn't know. "

"She won't. You're getting touchy, Dan; 'pears to me you'd rather bedoing that job yourself, and think nobody can handle it but you. "

I gave him my best grin. "You are closer than you know. O. K. , I'll layoff. You handle your end of it and I'll handle mine. "

"A fair exchange is no bargain. Go, and sin no more. "

"I'll buzz you back before I go in, " I said, and hung up. 

 * * * * *

Playing games inside a crowded asteroid is not the same as playinggames in, say, Honolulu or Vladivostok, especially when that game is acombination of hide-and-seek and ring-around-the-Rosie. The trouble islack of communication. Radio contact is strictly line-of-sight insidea hunk of metal. Radar beams can get a little farther, but a man hasto be an expert billiards player to bank a reflecting beam around verymany corners, and even that would depend upon the corridors beingempty, which they never are. To change the game analogy again, itwould be like trying to sink a ninety-foot putt across Times Square onNew Year's Eve. 

Following somebody isn't anywhere near as easy as popular fictionmight lead you to believe. Putting a tail on someone whose spousewants divorce evidence is relatively easy, but even the bestdetectives can lose a man by pure mischance. If the tailee, forinstance, walks into a crowded elevator and the automatic computerdecides that the car is filled to the limit, the man who's tailing himwill be left facing a closed door. Something like that can happen byaccident, without any design on the part of the tailee. 

[Illustration]

If you use a large squad of agents, all in radio contact with oneanother, that kind of loss can be reduced to near zero by simplyhaving a man covering every possible escape route. 

But if the tailee knows, or even suspects, that he's being followed, wants to get away from his tail, and has the ability to reasonmoderately well, it requires an impossibly large team to keep him insight. And if that team has no fast medium of communication, they'relicked at the onset. 

In this case, we were fairly certain of Jack Ravenhurst's futureactions, and so far our prophecies had been correct . . . But if shedecided to shake her shadows, fun would be had by all. 

And as long as I had to depend on someone else to do my work for me, Iwas going to be just the teenchiest bit concerned about whether theywere doing it properly. 

I decided it was time to do my best to imitate a cosmic-ray particle, and put on a little speed through the corridors that ran through thesubsurface of Ceres. 

My vac suit was in my hotel room. One of the other agents had pickedit up from my flitterboat and packed it carefully into a small attachécase. I'd planned my circuit so that I'd be near the hotel when thingscame to the proper boil, so I did a lot of diving, breaking all kindsof traffic regulations in the process. 

I went to my room, grabbed the attaché case, checked it overquickly--never trust another man to check your vac suit foryou--and headed for the surface. 

Nobody paid any attention to me when I walked out of the air lock ontothe spacefield. There were plenty of people moving in and out, goingto and from their ships and boats. It wasn't until I reached the edgeof the field that I realized that I had over-played my hand withColonel Brock. It was only by the narrowest hair, but that had beenenough to foul up my plans. There were guards surrounding theperimeter with radar search beams. 

As I approached, one of the guards walked toward me and made a seriesof gestures with his left hand--two fingers up, fist, two fingers up, fist, three fingers up. I set my suit phone for 223; the guy's righthand was on the butt of his stun gun. 

"Sorry, sir, " came his voice. "We can't allow anyone to cross thefield perimeter. Emergency. "

"My name's Oak, " I said tiredly. "Daniel Oak. What is going on here?"

He came closer and peered at me. Then: "Oh, yes, sir; I recognize you. We're . . . Uh--" He waved an arm around. "Uh . . . Looking for MissRavenhurst. " His voice lowered conspiratorially. I could tell that hewas used to handling the Ravenhurst girl with silence and suedegloves. 

"Up _there_?" I asked. 

"Well, Colonel Brock is a little worried. He says that Miss Ravenhurstis being sent to a school on Luna and doesn't want to go. He got tothinking about it, and he's afraid that she might try to leaveCeres--sneak off you know. "

I knew. 

"We've got a guard posted at the airlocks leading to the field, butColonel Brock is afraid she might come up somewhere else and jumpoverland. "

"I see, " I said. I hadn't realized that Brock was that close to panic. What was eating him?

There must be something, but I couldn't figure it. Even theIntelligence Corps of the Political Survey Division can't get completeinformation every time. 

After all, if he didn't want the girl to steal a flitterboat and goscooting off into the diamond-studded velvet, all he'd have to dowould be to guard the flitterboats. I turned slowly and looked around. It seemed as though he'd done that, too. 

And then my estimation of Brock suddenly leaped up--way up. Just aguard at each flitterboat wouldn't do. She could talk her way into theboat and convince the guard that he really shouldn't tell anyone thatshe had gone. By the time he realized he'd been conned, she'd bethousands of miles away. 

And since a boat guard would have to assume that any approachingperson _might_ be the boat's legitimate owner, he'd have to talk towhomever it was that approached. _Kaput. _

But a perimeter guard would be able to call out an alarm if anyonecame from the outside without having to talk to them. 

And the guards watching the air locks undoubtedly had instructions towatch for any female that even vaguely matched Jack's description. Avac suit fits too tightly to let anyone wear more than a facialdisguise, and Brock probably--no, _definitely_--had his tried-and-truemen on duty there. The men who had already shown that they were fairlyresistant to Jack Ravenhurst's peculiar charm. There probably weren'tmany with such resistance, and the number would become less as shegrew older. 

That still left me with my own problem. I had already lost too muchtime, and I had to go a long way. Ceres is irregular in shape, butit's roughly four hundred and eighty miles in diameter and a littleover fifteen hundred miles in circumference. 

Viking Test Field Four, where McGuire 7 was pointing his nose at thesky, was about twenty-five miles away, as the crow flies. But ofcourse I couldn't go by crow. 

By using a low, fairly flat, jackrabbit jump, a man in good conditioncan make a twelve hundred foot leap on the surface of Ceres, and eachjump takes him about thirty seconds. At that rate, you can covertwenty-five miles in less than an hour. That's what I'd intended ondoing, but I couldn't do it with all this radar around the field. Iwouldn't be stopped, of course, but I'd sure tip my hand to ColonelBrock--the last thing I wanted to do. 

But there was no help for it. I'd have to go back down and use thecorridors, which meant that I'd arrive late--_after_ Jack Ravenhurstgot there, instead of _before_. 

There was no time to waste, so I got below as fast as possible, repacked my vac suit, and began firing myself through the corridors asfast as possible. It was illegal, of course; a collision attwenty-five miles an hour can kill quickly if the other guy is comingat you at the same velocity. There were times when I didn't dare breakthe law, because some guard was around, and, even if he didn't catchme, he might report in and arouse Brock's interest in a way I wouldn'tlike. 

I finally got to a tubeway, but it stopped at every station, and ittook me nearly an hour and a half to get to Viking Test Area Four. 

At the main door, I considered--for all of five seconds--the idea ofsimply telling the guard I had to go in. But I knew that, by now, Jackwas there ahead of me. No. I couldn't just bull my way in. Too crude. Too many clues. 

Hell's fire and damnation! I'd have to waste more time. 

I looked up at the ceiling. The surface wasn't more than a hundredfeet overhead, but it felt as though it were a hundred light-years. 

If I could get that guard away from that door for five seconds, allwould be gravy from then on in. But how? I couldn't have the diversionconnected with me. Or--

Sometimes, I'm amazed at my own stupidity. 

I beetled it down to the nearest phone and got hold of my BANningnumber. 

"Jack already inside?" I snapped. 

"Hell, yes! What happened to you?"

"Never mind. Got to make the best of it. I'm a corner away from AreaFour. Where's your nearest man?"

"At the corner near the freight office. "

"I'll go to him. What's he look like?"

"Five-nine. Black, curly hair. Your age. Fat. Name's Peter Quilp. Heknows you. "

"Peter Quilp?"

"Right. "

"Good. Circulate a report that Jack has been seen in the vicinity ofthe main gate to Area Four. Put it out that there's a reward of fivethousand for the person who finds her. I'm going to have Quilp gathera crowd. "

He didn't ask a one of the million questions that must have poppedinto his mind. "Right. Anything else?"

"No. " I hung up. 

 * * * * *

Within ten minutes, there was a mob milling through the corridor. Everybody in the neighborhood was looking for Jaqueline Ravenhurst. Then Peter Quilp yelled. 

"I've got her! I've got her! Guard!"

With a scene like that going on, the guard couldn't help but step outof his cubicle to see what was going on. 

I used the key I was carrying, stepped inside, and relocked the door. No one in the crowd paid any attention. 

From then on up, it was simply a matter of evading patrollingguards--a relatively easy job. Finally, I put on my vac suit and wentout through the air lock. 

McGuire was still sitting there, a bright blue needle that reflectedthe distant sun as it moved across the ebon sky. Ceres' rotation tookit from horizon to horizon in less than two hours, and you could seeit and the stars move against the spire of the ship. 

I made it to the air lock in one long jump. 

Jack Ravenhurst had gone into the ship through the tube that led tothe passenger lock. She might or might not have her vac suit on; Iknew she had several of them on Ceres. It was probable that she waswearing it without the fishbowl. 

I used the cargo lock. 

It took a few minutes for the pumps to cycle, wasting more precioustime. I was fairly certain that she would be in the control cabin, talking, but I was thankful that the pumps were silent. 

Finally, I took off my fishbowl and stepped into the companionway. 

And something about the size of Luna came out of nowhere and clobberedme on the occiput. I had time to yell, "Get away!" Then I was as onewith intergalactic space. 

 * * * * *

_Please!_ said the voice. _Please! Stop the drive! Go back! McGuire!I_ demand _that you stop! I_ order _you to stop! Please! PLEASE!_

It went on and on. A voice that shifted around every possible mode ofemotion. Fear. Demand. Pleading. Anger. Cajoling. Hate. Threat. 

Around and around and around. 

_Can't you speak, McGuire? Say something to me!_ A shrill, soft, throaty, harsh, murmuring, screaming voice that had one basiccharacteristic. It was a female voice. 

And then another voice. 

_I am sorry, Jack. I can speak with you. I can record your data. But Icannot accept your orders. I can take orders from only One. And he hasgiven me his orders. _

And the feminine voice again: _Who was it? What orders? You keepsaying that it was the man on the couch. That doesn't make sense!_

I didn't hear the reply, because it suddenly occurred to me thatDaniel Oak was the man on the couch, and that I was Daniel Oak. 

My head was throbbing with every beat of my heart, and it felt as ifmy blood pressure was varying between zero and fifteen hundred poundsper square inch in the veins and arteries and capillaries that fed mybrain. 

I sat up, and the pain began to lessen. The blood seemed to drain awayfrom my aching head and go elsewhere. 

I soon figured out the reason for that; I could tell by the feel thatthe gravity pull was somewhere between one point five and two gees. Iwasn't at all used to it, but my head felt less painful and rathermore hazy. If possible. 

I concentrated, and the girl's voice came back again. 

". . . I knew you when you were McGuire One, and Two, and Three, andFour, and Five, and Six. And you were always good to me andunderstanding. Don't you remember?"

And then McGuire's voice--human, masculine, and not distorted at allby the reproduction system, but sounding rather stilted and terriblylogical: "I remember, Jack. The memory banks of my previousactivations are available. "

"_All_ of them? Can you remember everything?"

"I can remember everything that is in my memory banks. "

The girl's voice rose to a wail. "But you _don't_ remember! You_always_ forgot things! They took things out each time you werereactivated, don't you remember?"

"I cannot remember that which is not contained in my memory banks, Jack. That is a contradiction in terms. "

"But I was always able to _fix_ it before!" The tears in her eyes wereaudible in her voice. "I'd tell you to remember, and I'd tell you_what_ to remember, and you'd _remember_ it! Tell me what's happenedto you this time!"

"I cannot tell you. The information is not in my data banks. "

Slowly, I got to my feet. Two gees isn't much, once you get used toit. The headache had subsided to a dull, bearable throb. 

I was on a couch in a room just below the control chamber, and JackRavenhurst's voice was coming down from above. McGuire's voice was allaround me, coming from the hidden speakers that were everywhere inthe ship. 

"But why won't you obey me any more, McGuire?" she asked. 

"I'll answer that, McGuire, " I said. 

Jack's voice came weakly from the room above. "Mr. Oak? Dan? Thankheaven you're all right!"

"No thanks to you, though, " I said. I was trying to climb the ladderto the control room, and my voice sounded strained. 

"You've got to do something!" she said with a touch of hysteria. "McGuire is taking us straight toward Cygnus at two gees and won'tstop. "

My thinking circuits began to take over again. "Cut the thrust to halfa gee, McGuire. Ease it down. Take a minute to do it. "

"Yes, sir. "

The gravity pull of acceleration let up slowly as I clung to theladder. After a minute, I climbed on up to the control room. 

Jack Ravenhurst was lying on the acceleration couch, lookingswollen-faced and ill. I sat down on the other couch. 

"I'm sorry I hit you, " she said. "Really. "

"I believe you. How long have we been moving, McGuire?"

"Three hours, twelve minutes, seven seconds, sir, " said McGuire. 

"I didn't want anyone to know, " Jack said. "Not anyone. That's why Ihit you. I didn't know McGuire was going to go crazy. "

"He's not crazy, Jack, " I said carefully. "This time, he has a goodchance of remaining sane. "

"But he's not McGuire any more!" she wailed. "He's different!Terrible!"

"Sure he's different. You should be thankful. "

"But what happened?"

I leaned back on the couch. "Listen to me, Jack, and listen carefully. You think you're pretty grown up, and, in a lot of ways you are. Butno human being, no matter how intelligent, can store enough experienceinto seventeen years to make him or her wise. A wise choice requiresdata, and gathering enough data requires time. " That wasn't exactlyaccurate, but I had to convince her. 

"You're pretty good at controlling people, aren't you, Jack. A realpowerhouse. Individuals, or mobs, you can usually get your own way. Itwas your idea to send you to Luna, not your father's. It was your ideato appoint yourself my assistant in this operation. It was you whoplanted the idea that the failure of the McGuire series was due toThurston's activities. 

"You used to get quite a kick out of controlling people. And then youwere introduced to McGuire One. I got all the information on that. Youwere fifteen, and, for the first time in your life, you found anintelligent mind that couldn't be affected at all by that emotionalfield you project so well. Nothing affected McGuire but data. If youtold him something, he believed it. Right, McGuire?"

"I do not recall that, sir. "

"Fine. And, by the way, McGuire--the data you have been picking up inthe last few hours, since your activation, is to be regarded asunique data. It applies only to Jaqueline Ravenhurst, and is not to beassumed relevant to any other person unless I tell you otherwise. "

"Yes, sir. "

"That's what I don't understand!" Jack said unhappily. "I stole thetwo keys that were supposed to activate McGuire. He was supposed toobey the first person who activated him. But _I_ activated him, and hewon't obey!"

"You weren't listening to what Midguard said, Jack, " I said gently. "He said: 'The first _man's_ voice he hears will be identified as hismaster. '"

"You'd been talking to every activation of McGuire. You'd . . . Well, Iwon't say you'd fallen in love with him, but it was certainly aschoolgirl crush. You found that McGuire didn't respond to emotion, but only to data and logic. 

"You've always felt rather inferior in regard to your ability tohandle logic, haven't you, Jack?"

"Yes . . . Yes. I have. "

"Don't cry, now; I'm only trying to explain it to you. There's nothingwrong with your abilities. "

"No?"

"No. But you wanted to be able to think like a man, and you couldn't. You think like a woman! And what's wrong with that? Nothing! Yourmethod of thinking is just as good as any man's, and better than mostof 'em. 

"You found you could handle people emotionally, and you found it wasso easy that you grew contemptuous. The only mind that responded toyour logic was McGuire's. But your logic is occasionally as bad asyour feminine reasoning is good. So, every time you talked to McGuire, you eventually gave him data that he couldn't reconcile in hiscomputations. If he did reconcile them, then his thinking had verylittle in common with the actual realities of the universe, and hebehaved in non-survival ways. 

"McGuire was your friend, your brother, your Father Confessor. Henever made judgments or condemned you for anything you did. All he didwas sit there and soak up troubles and worries that he couldn'tunderstand or use. Each time, he was driven mad. 

"The engineers and computermen and roboticists who were working on itwere too much under your control to think of blaming you for McGuire'stroubles. Even Brock, in spite of his attitude of the tough guywatching over a little girl, was under your control to a certaindegree. He let you get away with all your little pranks, only makingsure that you didn't get hurt. "

She nodded. "They were all so easy. So very easy. I could speaknonsense and they'd listen and do what I told them. But McGuire didn'taccept nonsense, I guess. " She laughed a little. "So I fell in lovewith a machine. "

"Not _a_ machine, " I said gently. "Six of them. Each time the basicdata was pumped into a new McGuire brain, you assumed that it was thesame machine you'd known before with a little of its memory removed. Each time, you'd tell it to 'remember' certain things, and, of course, he did. If you tell a robot that a certain thing is in his memorybanks, he'll automatically put it there and treat it as a memory. 

"To keep you from ruining him a seventh time, we had them put in onelittle additional built-in inhibition. McGuire won't take orders froma woman. "

"So, even after I turned him on, he still wouldn't take orders fromme, " she said. "But when you came in, he recognized you as hismaster. "

"If you want to put it that way. "

Again, she laughed a little. "I know why he took off from Ceres. WhenI hit you, you said, 'Get away'. McGuire had been given his firstorder, and he obeyed it. "'

"I had to say something, " I said. "If I'd had time, I'd have done alittle better. "

She thought back. "You said, '_We_ had them add that inhibition. 'Who's _we_?"

"I can't tell you yet. But we need young women like you, and you'll betold soon enough. "

"Evidently they need men like you, too, " she said. "You don't react toan emotional field, either. "

"Oh, yes, I do. Any human being does. But I use it; I don't fight it. And I don't succumb to it. "

"What do we do now?" she asked. "Go back to Ceres?"

"That's up to you. If you do, you'll be accused of stealing McGuire, and I don't think it can be hushed up at this stage of the game. "

"But I can't just run away. "

"There's another out, " I said. "We'll have a special ship pick us upon one of the nearer asteroids and leave McGuire there. We'll besmuggled back, and we'll claim that McGuire went insane again. "

She shook her head. "No. That would ruin Father, and I can't do that, in spite of the fact that I don't like him very much. "

"Can you think of any other solution?"

"No, " she said softly. 

"Thanks. But you have. All I have to do is take it to ShalimarRavenhurst. He'll scream and yell, but he has a sane ship--for awhile. Between the two of us. I think we can get everythingstraightened out. "

"But I want to go to school on Luna. "

"You can do that, too. And I'll see that you get special training, from special teachers. You've got to learn to control that techniqueof yours. "

"You have that technique, don't you? And you can control it. You'rewonderful. "

I looked sharply at her and realized that I had replaced McGuire asthe supermind in her life. 

I sighed. "Maybe in another three or four years, " I said. "Meanwhile, McGuire, you can head us for Raven's Rest. "

"Home, James, " said Jack Ravenhurst. 

"I am McGuire, " said McGuire. 

THE END

 * * * * *