_How could a robot--a machine, after all--be involved in something like law application and violence? Harry Harrison, who will be remembered for his THE VELVET GLOVE (Nov. 1956) and his more recent TRAINEE FOR MARS (June 1958) tells what happens when a police robot hits an outpost on Mars. _

 arm of the law

 _by . .. Harry Harrison_

 At one time--this was before the Robot Restriction Laws--they'd even allowed them to make their own decisions. .. . 

It was a big, coffin-shaped plywood box that looked like it weighed aton. This brawny type just dumped it through the door of the policestation and started away. I looked up from the blotter and shouted atthe trucker's vanishing back. 

"What the hell is that?"

"How should I know?" he said as he swung up into the cab. "I justdeliver, I don't X-ray 'em. It came on the morning rocket from earth isall I know. " He gunned the truck more than he had to and threw up abillowing cloud of red dust. 

"Jokers, " I growled to myself. "Mars is full of jokers. "

When I went over to look at the box I could feel the dust grate betweenmy teeth. Chief Craig must have heard the racket because he came out ofhis office and helped me stand and look at the box. 

"Think it's a bomb?" he asked in a bored voice. 

"Why would anyone bother--particularly with a thing this size? And allthe way from earth. "

He nodded agreement and walked around to look at the other end. Therewas no sender's address anywhere on the outside. Finally we had to digout the crowbar and I went to work on the top. After some prying itpulled free and fell off. 

That was when we had our first look at Ned. We all would have been a lothappier if it had been our last look as well. If we had just put the lidback on and shipped the thing back to earth! I know now what they meanabout Pandora's Box. 

But we just stood there and stared like a couple of rubes. Ned laymotionless and stared back at us. 

"A robot!" the Chief said. 

"Very observant; it's easy to see you went to the police academy. "

"Ha ha! Now find out what he's doing here. "

I hadn't gone to the academy, but this was no handicap to my finding theletter. It was sticking up out of a thick book in a pocket in the box. The Chief took the letter and read it with little enthusiasm. 

"Well, well! United Robotics have the brainstorm that . .. _robots, correctly used will tend to prove invaluable in police work_ . .. Theywant us to co-operate in a field test . .. _robot enclosed is the latestexperimental model; valued at 120, 000 credits_. "

We both looked back at the robot, sharing the wish that the credits hadbeen in the box instead of it. The Chief frowned and moved his lipsthrough the rest of the letter. I wondered how we got the robot out ofits plywood coffin. 

Experimental model or not, this was a nice-looking hunk of machinery. Auniform navy-blue all over, though the outlet cases, hooks and such werea metallic gold. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get thateffect. This was as close as a robot could look to a cop in uniform, without being a joke. All that seemed to be missing was the badge andgun. 

Then I noticed the tiny glow of light in the robot's eye lenses. It hadnever occurred to me before that the thing might be turned on. There wasnothing to lose by finding out. 

"Get out of that box, " I said. 

The robot came up smooth and fast as a rocket, landing two feet in frontof me and whipping out a snappy salute. 

"Police Experimental Robot, serial number XPO-456-934B, reporting forduty, sir. "

His voice quivered with alertness and I could almost hear the humming ofthose taut cable muscles. He may have had a stainless steel hide and abunch of wires for a brain--but he spelled rookie cop to me just thesame. The fact that he was man-height with two arms, two legs and thatpainted-on uniform helped. All I had to do was squint my eyes a bit andthere stood Ned the Rookie Cop. Fresh out of school and raring to go. Ishook my head to get rid of the illusion. This was just six feet ofmachine that boffins and brain-boys had turned out for their ownamusement. 

"Relax, Ned, " I said. He was still holding the salute. "At ease. You'llget a hernia of your exhaust pipe if you stay so tense. Anyways, I'mjust the sergeant here. That's the Chief of Police over there. "

Ned did an about face and slid over to the Chief with that samegreased-lightning motion. The Chief just looked at him like somethingthat sprang out from under the hood of a car, while Ned went through thesame report routine. 

"I wonder if it does anything else beside salute and report, " the Chiefsaid while he walked around the robot, looking it over like a dog with ahydrant. 

"The functions, operations and responsible courses of action open to thePolice Experimental Robots are outlined on pages 184 to 213 of themanual. " Ned's voice was muffled for a second while he half-dived backinto his case and came up with the volume mentioned. "A detailedbreakdown of these will also be found on pages 1035 to 1267 inclusive. "

The Chief, who has trouble reading an entire comic page at one sitting, turned the 6-inch-thick book over in his hands like it would maybe bitehim. When he had a rough idea of how much it weighed and a good feel ofthe binding he threw it on my desk. 

"Take care of this, " he said to me as he headed towards his office. "Andthe robot, too. Do something with it. " The Chief's span of attentionnever was great and it had been strained to the limit this time. 

I flipped through the book, wondering. One thing I never have had muchto do with is robots, so I know just as much about them as any Joe inthe street. Probably less. The book was filled with pages of fine print, fancy mathematics, wiring diagrams and charts in nine colors and thatkind of thing. It needed close attention. Which attention I was notprepared to give at the time. The book slid shut and I eyed the newestemployee of the city of Nineport. 

"There is a broom behind the door. Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes, sir. "

"In that case you will sweep out this room, raising as small a cloud ofdust as possible at the same time. "

He did a very neat job of it. 

I watched 120, 000 credits worth of machinery making a tidy pile of buttsand sand and wondered why it had been sent to Nineport. Probably becausethere wasn't another police force in the solar system that was smalleror more unimportant than ours. The engineers must have figured thiswould be a good spot for a field test. Even if the thing blew up, nobodywould really mind. There would probably be someone along some day to geta report on it. Well, they had picked the right spot all right. Nineportwas just a little bit beyond nowhere. 

Which, of course, was why I was there. I was the only real cop on theforce. They needed at least one to give an illusion of the wheels goingaround. The Chief, Alonzo Craig, had just enough sense to take graftwithout dropping the money. There were two patrolmen. One old and drunkmost of the time. The other so young the only scar he had was the markof the attram. I had ten years on a metropolitan force, earthside. Why Ileft is nobody's damn business. I have long since paid for any mistakesI made there by ending up in Nineport. 

Nineport is not a city, it's just a place where people stop. The onlypermanent citizens are the ones who cater to those on the way through. Hotel keepers, restaurant owners, gamblers, barkeeps, and the rest. 

There is a spaceport, but only some freighters come there. To pick upthe metal from some of the mines that are still working. Some of thesettlers still came in for supplies. You might say that Nineport was atown that just missed the boat. In a hundred years I doubt if there willbe enough left sticking of the sand to even tell where it used to be. Iwon't be there either, so I couldn't care less. 

I went back to the blotter. Five drunks in the tank, an average night'shaul. While I wrote them up Fats dragged in the sixth one. 

"Locked himself in the ladies' john at the spaceport and resistingarrest, " he reported. 

"D and D. Throw him in with the rest. "

Fats steered his limp victim across the floor, matching him step fordragging step. I always marveled at the way Fats took care of drunks, since he usually had more under his belt than they had. I have neverseen him falling down drunk or completely sober. About all he was goodfor was keeping a blurred eye on the lockup and running in drunks. Hedid well at that. No matter what they crawled under or on top of, hefound them. No doubt due to the same shared natural instincts. 

Fats clanged the door behind number six and weaved his way back in. "What's that?" he asked, peering at the robot along the purple beauty ofhis nose. 

"That is a robot. I have forgotten the number his mother gave him at thefactory so we will call him Ned. He works here now. "

"Good for him! He can clean up the tank after we throw the bums out. "

"That's _my_ job, " Billy said coming in through the front door. Heclutched his nightstick and scowled out from under the brim of hisuniform cap. It is not that Billy is stupid, just that most of hisstrength has gone into his back instead of his mind. 

"That's Ned's job now because you have a promotion. You are going tohelp me with some of my work. "

Billy came in very handy at times and I was anxious that the forceshouldn't lose him. My explanation cheered him because he sat down byFats and watched Ned do the floor. 

That's the way things went for about a week. We watched Ned sweep andpolish until the station began to take on a positively antiseptic look. The Chief, who always has an eye out for that type of thing, found outthat Ned could file the odd ton of reports and paperwork that clutteredhis office. All this kept the robot busy, and we got so used to him wewere hardly aware he was around. I knew he had moved the packing caseinto the storeroom and fixed himself up a cozy sort of robotdormitory-coffin. Other than that I didn't know or care. 

The operation manual was buried in my desk and I never looked at it. IfI had, I might have had some idea of the big changes that were in store. None of us knew the littlest bit about what a robot can or cannot do. Ned was working nicely as a combination janitor-file clerk and shouldhave stayed that way. He would have too if the Chief hadn't been solazy. That's what started it all. 

It was around nine at night and the Chief was just going home when thecall came in. He took it, listened for a moment, then hung up. 

"Greenback's liquor store. He got held up again. Says to come at once. "

"That's a change. Usually we don't hear about it until a month later. What's he paying protection money for if China Joe ain't protecting?What's the rush now?"

The Chief chewed his loose lip for a while, finally and painfullyreached a decision. 

"You better go around and see what the trouble is. "

"Sure, " I said reaching for my cap. "But no one else is around, you'llhave to watch the desk until I get back. "

"That's no good, " he moaned. "I'm dying from hunger and sitting hereisn't going to help me any. "

"I will go take the report, " Ned said, stepping forward and snapping hisusual well-greased salute. 

At first the Chief wasn't buying. You would think the water cooler cameto life and offered to take over his job. 

"How could _you_ take a report?" he growled, putting the wise-guy watercooler in its place. But he had phrased his little insult as a questionso he had only himself to blame. In exactly three minutes Ned gave theChief a summary of the routine necessary for a police officer to make areport on an armed robbery or other reported theft. From the glazed lookin Chief's protruding eyes I could tell Ned had quickly passed theboundaries of the Chief's meager knowledge. 

"Enough!" the harried man finally gasped. "If you know so much why don'tyou make a report?"

Which to me sounded like another version of "_if you're so damned smartwhy ain't you rich?_" which we used to snarl at the brainy kids ingrammar school. Ned took such things literally though, and turnedtowards the door. 

"Do you mean you wish me to make a report on this robbery?"

"Yes, " the Chief said just to get rid of him, and we watched his blueshape vanish through the door. 

"He must be brighter than he looks, " I said. "He never stopped to askwhere Greenback's store is. "

The Chief nodded and the phone rang again. His hand was still resting onit so he picked it up by reflex. He listened for a second and you wouldhave thought someone was pumping blood out of his heel from the way hisface turned white. 

"The holdup's still on, " he finally gasped. "Greenback's delivery boy ison the line--calling back to see where we are. Says he's under a tablein the back room . .. "

I never heard the rest of it because I was out the door and into thecar. There were a hundred things that could happen if Ned got therebefore me. Guns could go off, people hurt, lots of things. And thepolice would be to blame for it all--sending a tin robot to do a cop'sjob. Maybe the Chief had ordered Ned there, but clearly as if the wordswere painted on the windshield of the car, I knew I would be draggedinto it. It never gets very warm on Mars, but I was sweating. 

Nineport has fourteen traffic regulations and I broke all of them beforeI had gone a block. Fast as I was, Ned was faster. As I turned thecorner I saw him open the door of Greenback's store and walk in. Iscreamed brakes in behind him and arrived just in time to have a galleryseat. A shooting gallery at that. 

There were two holdup punks, one behind the counter making like a clerkand the other lounging off to the side. Their guns were out of sight, but blue-coated Ned busting through the door like that was too much fortheir keyed up nerves. Up came both guns like they were on strings andNed stopped dead. I grabbed for my own gun and waited for pieces ofbusted robot to come flying through the window. 

Ned's reflexes were great. Which I suppose is what you should expect ofa robot. 

"DROP YOUR GUNS, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. "

He must have had on full power or something, his voice blasted so loudmy ears hurt. The result was just what you might expect. Both torpedoeslet go at once and the air was filled with flying slugs. The showwindows went out with a crash and I went down on my stomach. From theamount of noise I knew they both had recoilless . 50's. You can't stopone of those slugs. They go right through you and anything else thathappens to be in the way. 

Except they didn't seem to be bothering Ned. The only notice he seemedto take was to cover his eyes. A little shield with a thin slit poppeddown over his eye lenses. Then he moved in on the first thug. 

I knew he was fast, but not that fast. A couple of slugs jarred him ashe came across the room, but before the punk could change his aim Nedhad the gun in his hand. That was the end of that. He put on one of thesweetest hammer locks I have ever seen and neatly grabbed the gun whenit dropped from the limp fingers. With the same motion that slipped thegun into a pouch he whipped out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them onthe punk's wrists. 

Holdupnik number two was heading for the door by then, and I was waitingto give him a warm reception. There was never any need. He hadn't gonehalfway before Ned slid in front of him. There was a thud when they hitthat didn't even shake Ned, but gave the other a glazed look. He nevereven knew it when Ned slipped the cuffs on him and dropped him down nextto his partner. 

I went in, took their guns from Ned, and made the arrest official. Thatwas all Greenback saw when he crawled out from behind the counter and itwas all I wanted him to see. The place was a foot deep in broken glassand smelled like the inside of a Jack Daniels bottle. Greenback began tohowl like a wolf over his lost stock. He didn't seem to know any moreabout the phone call than I did, so I grabbed ahold of a pimply lookingkid who staggered out of the storeroom. He was the one who had made thecalls. 

It turned out to be a matter of sheer stupidity. He had worked forGreenback only a few days and didn't have enough brains to realize thatall holdups should be reported to the protection boys instead of thepolice. I told Greenback to wise up his boy, as look at the trouble thatgot caused. Then pushed the two ex-holdup men out to the car. Nedclimbed in back with them and they clung together like two waifs in astorm. The robot's only response was to pull a first aid kit from hiship and fix up a ricochet hole in one of the thugs that no one hadnoticed in the excitement. 

 * * * * *

The Chief was still sitting there with that bloodless look when wemarched in. I didn't believe it could be done, but he went two shadeswhiter. 

"You made the pinch, " he whispered. Before I could straighten him out asecond and more awful idea hit him. He grabbed a handful of shirt on thefirst torpedo and poked his face down. "You with China Joe, " he snarled. 

The punk made the error of trying to be cute so the Chief let him haveone on the head with the open hand that set his eyes rolling likemarbles. When the question got asked again he found the right answer. 

"I never heard from no China Joe. We just hit town today and--"

"Freelance, by God, " the Chief sighed and collapsed into his chair. "Lock 'em up and quickly tell me what in hell happened. "

I slammed the gate on them and pointed a none too steady finger at Ned. 

"There's the hero, " I said. "Took them on single-handed, rassled themfor a fall and made the capture. He is a one-robot tornado, a power forgood in this otherwise evil community. And he's bulletproof too. " I rana finger over Ned's broad chest. The paint was chipped by the slugs, butthe metal was hardly scratched. 

"This is going to cause me trouble, big trouble, " the Chief wailed. 

I knew he meant with the protection boys. They did not like punksgetting arrested and guns going off without their okay. But Ned thoughtthe Chief had other worries and rushed in to put them right. "There willbe no trouble. At no time did I violate any of the Robotic RestrictionLaws, they are part of my control circuits and therefore fullyautomatic. The men who drew their guns violated both robotic and humanlaw when they threatened violence. I did not injure the men--merelyrestrained them. "

It was all over the Chief's head, but I liked to think _I_ could followit. And I _had_ been wondering how a robot--a machine--could be involvedin something like law application and violence. Ned had the answer tothat one too. 

"Robots have been assuming these functions for years. Don't recordingradar meters pass judgment on human violation of automobile regulations?A robot alcohol detector is better qualified to assess the sobriety of aprisoner than the arresting officer. At one time robots were evenallowed to make their own decisions about killing. Before the RoboticRestriction Laws automatic gun-pointers were in general use. Their finaldevelopment was a self-contained battery of large anti-aircraft guns. Automatic scan radar detected all aircraft in the vicinity. Those thatcould not return the correct identifying signal had their coursestracked and computed, automatic fuse-cutters and loaders readied thecomputer-aimed guns--which were fired by the robot mechanism. "

There was little I could argue about with Ned. Except maybe hiscollege-professor vocabulary. So I switched the attack. 

"But a robot can't take the place of a cop, it's a complex human job. "

"Of course it is, but taking a human policeman's place is not thefunction of a police robot. Primarily I combine the functions ofnumerous pieces of police equipment, integrating their operations andmaking them instantly available. In addition I can aid in the_mechanical_ processes of law enforcement. If you arrest a man youhandcuff him. But if you order me to do it, I have made no moraldecision. I am just a machine for attaching handcuffs at that point . .. "

My raised hand cut off the flow of robotic argument. Ned was hipped tohis ears with facts and figures and I had a good idea who would come offsecond best in any continued discussion. No laws had been broken whenNed made the pinch, that was for sure. But there are other laws thanthose that appear on the books. 

"China Joe is not going to like this, not at all, " the Chief said, speaking my own thoughts. 

The law of Tooth and Claw. That's one that wasn't in the law books. Andthat was what ran Nineport. The place was just big enough to have a goodpopulation of gambling joints, bawdy houses and drunk-rollers. They wereall run by China Joe. As was the police department. We were all in hispocket and you might say he was the one who paid our wages. This is notthe kind of thing, though, that you explain to a robot. 

"Yeah, China Joe. "

I thought it was an echo at first, then realized that someone had easedin the door behind me. Something called Alex. Six feet of bone, muscleand trouble. China Joe's right hand man. He imitated a smile at theChief who sank a bit lower in his chair. 

"China Joe wants you should tell him why you got smart cops going aroundand putting the arm on people and letting them shoot up good liquor. He's mostly angry about the hooch. He says that he had enough guff andafter this you should--"

"I am putting you under Robot Arrest, pursuant to article 46, paragraph19 of the revised statutes . .. "

Ned had done it before we realized he had even moved. Right in front ofour eyes he was arresting Alex and signing our death warrants. 

Alex was not slow. As he turned to see who had grabbed him, he hadalready dragged out this cannon. He got one shot in, square againstNed's chest, before the robot plucked the gun away and slipped on thecuffs. While we all gaped like dead fish, Ned recited the charge in whatI swear was a satisfied tone. 

"The prisoner is Peter Rakjomskj, alias Alex the Axe, wanted in CanalCity for armed robbery and attempted murder. Also wanted by local policeof Detroit, New York and Manchester on charges of . .. "

"_Get it off me!_" Alex howled. We might have too, and everything mighthave still been straightened out if Benny Bug hadn't heard the shot. Hepopped his head in the front door just long enough to roll his eyes overour little scene. 

"Alex . .. They're puttin' the arm on Alex!"

Then he was gone and when I hit the door he was nowhere in sight. ChinaJoe's boys always went around in pairs. And in ten minutes he would knowall about it. 

"Book him, " I told Ned. "It wouldn't make any difference if we let himgo now. The world has already come to an end. "

Fats came in then, mumbling to himself. He jerked a thumb over hisshoulder when he saw me. 

"What's up? I see little Benny Bug come out of here like the place wason fire and almost get killed driving away?"

Then Fats saw Alex with the bracelets on and turned sober in one second. He just took a moment to gape, then his mind was made up. Without atrace of a stagger he walked over to the Chief and threw his badge onthe desk in front of him. 

"I am an old man and I drink too much to be a cop. Therefore I amresigning from the force. Because if that is whom I think it is overthere with the cuffs on, I will not live to be a day older as long as Iam around here. "

"Rat. " The Chief growled in pain through his clenched teeth. "Desertingthe sinking ship. Rat. "

"Squeak, " Fats said and left. 

The Chief was beyond caring at this point. He didn't blink an eye when Itook Fats' badge off the desk. I don't know why I did it, perhaps Ithought it was only fair. Ned had started all the trouble and I was justangry enough to want him on the spot when it was finished. There weretwo rings on his chest plate, and I was not surprised when the badge pinfitted them neatly. 

"There, now you are a real cop. " Sarcasm dripped from the words. Ishould have realized that robots are immune to sarcasm. Ned took mystatement at face value. 

"This is a very great honor, not only for me but for all robots. I willdo my best to fulfill all the obligations of the office. " Jack Armstrongin tin underwear. I could hear the little motors in his guts hummingwith joy as he booked Alex. 

If everything else hadn't been so bad I would have enjoyed that. Ned hadmore police equipment built into him than Nineport had ever owned. Therewas an ink pad that snapped out of one hip, and he efficiently rolledAlex's fingertips across it and stamped them on a card. Then he held theprisoner at arm's length while something clicked in his abdomen. Oncemore sideways and two instant photographs dropped out of a slot. The mugshots were stuck on the card, arrest details and such inserted. Therewas more like this, but I forced myself away. There were more importantthings to think about. 

Like staying alive. 

"Any ideas, Chief?"

A groan was my only answer so I let it go at that. Billy, the balance ofthe police force, came in then. I gave him a quick rundown. Eitherthrough stupidity or guts he elected to stay, and I was proud of theboy. Ned locked away the latest prisoner and began sweeping up. 

That was the way we were when China Joe walked in. 

Even though we were expecting it, it was still a shock. He had a bunchof his toughest hoods with him and they crowded through the door like anoverweight baseball team. China Joe was in front, hands buried in thesleeves of his long mandarin gown. No expression at all on his asceticfeatures. He didn't waste time talking to us, just gave the word to hisown boys. 

"Clean this place up. The new police Chief will be here in a while and Idon't want him to see any bums hanging around. "

It made me angry. Even with the graft I like to feel I'm still a cop. Not on a cheap punk's payroll. I was also curious about China Joe. Hadbeen ever since I tried to get a line on him and never found a thing. Istill wanted to know. 

"Ned, take a good look at that Chinese guy in the rayon bathrobe and letme know who he is. "

My, but those electronic circuits work fast. Ned shot the answer backlike a straight man who had been rehearsing his lines for weeks. 

"He is a pseudo-oriental, utilizing a natural sallowness of the skinheightened with dye. He is not Chinese. There has also been an operationon his eyes, scars of which are still visible. This has been undoubtedlydone in an attempt to conceal his real identity, but Bertillonmeasurements of his ears and other features make identity positive. Heis on the Very Wanted list of Interpol and his real name is . .. "

China Joe was angry, and with a reason. 

"That's the _thing_ . .. That big-mouthed tin radio set over there. Weheard about it and we're taking care of it!"

The mob jumped aside then or hit the deck and I saw there was a guykneeling in the door with a rocket launcher. Shaped anti-tank charges, no doubt. That was my last thought as the thing let go with a "whoosh. "

Maybe you can hit a tank with one of those. But not a robot. At leastnot a police robot. Ned was sliding across the floor on his face whenthe back wall blew up. There was no second shot. Ned closed his hand onthe tube of the bazooka and it was so much old drainpipe. 

Billy decided then that anyone who fired a rocket in a police stationwas breaking the law, so he moved in with his club. I was right behindhim since I did not want to miss any of the fun. Ned was at the bottomsomewhere, but I didn't doubt he could take care of himself. 

There were a couple of muffled shots and someone screamed. No one firedafter that because we were too tangled up. A punk named Brooklyn Eddiehit me on the side of the head with his gunbutt and I broke his noseall over his face with my fist. 

 * * * * *

There is a kind of a fog over everything after that. But I do rememberit was very busy for a while. 

When the fog lifted a bit I realized I was the only one still standing. Or leaning rather. It was a good thing the wall was there. 

Ned came in through the street door carrying a very bashed-lookingBrooklyn Eddie. I hoped I had done all that. Eddie's wrists werefastened together with cuffs. Ned laid him gently next to the heap ofthugs--who I suddenly realized all wore the same kind of handcuffs. Iwondered vaguely if Ned made them as he needed them or had a supplytucked away in a hollow leg or something. 

There was a chair a few feet away and sitting down helped. 

Blood was all over everything and if a couple of the hoods hadn'tgroaned I would have thought they were corpses. One was, I noticedsuddenly. A bullet had caught him in the chest, most of the blood wasprobably his. 

Ned burrowed in the bodies for a moment and dragged Billy out. He wasunconscious. A big smile on his face and the splintered remains of hisnightstick still stuck in his fist. It takes very little to make somepeople happy. A bullet had gone through his leg and he never moved whileNed ripped the pants leg off and put on a bandage. 

"The spurious China Joe and one other man escaped in a car, " Nedreported. 

"Don't let it worry you, " I managed to croak. "Your batting averagestill leads the league. "

It was then I realized the Chief was still sitting in his chair, wherehe had been when the brouhaha started. Still slumped down with thatglazed look. Only after I started to talk to him did I realize thatAlonzo Craig, Chief of Police of Nineport, was now dead. 

A single shot. Small caliber gun, maybe a . 22. Right through the heartand what blood there had been was soaked up by his clothes. I had a goodidea where the gun would be that fired that shot. A small gun, the kindthat would fit in a wide Chinese sleeve. 

I wasn't tired or groggy any more. Just angry. Maybe he hadn't been thebrightest or most honest guy in the world. But he deserved a better endthan that. Knocked off by a two-bit racket boss who thought he was beingcrossed. 

Right about then I realized I had a big decision to make. With Billy outof the fight and Fats gone I was the Nineport police force. All I had todo to be clear of this mess was to walk out the door and keep going. Iwould be safe enough. 

Ned buzzed by, picked up two of the thugs, and hauled them off to thecells. 

Maybe it was the sight of his blue back or maybe I was tired of running. Either way my mind was made up before I realized it. I carefully tookoff the Chief's gold badge and put it on in place of my old one. 

"The new Chief of Police of Nineport, " I said to no one in particular. 

"Yes, sir, " Ned said as he passed. He put one of the prisoners down longenough to salute, then went on with his work. I returned the salute. 

The hospital meat wagon hauled away the dead and wounded. I took an evilpleasure in ignoring the questioning stares of the attendants. After thedoc fixed the side of my head, everyone cleared out. Ned mopped up thefloor. I ate ten aspirin and waited for the hammering to stop so I couldthink what to do next. 

 * * * * *

When I pulled my thoughts together the answer was obvious. Too obvious. I made as long a job as I could of reloading my gun. 

"Refill your handcuff box, Ned. We are going out. "

Like a good cop he asked no questions. I locked the outside door when weleft and gave him the key. 

"Here. There's a good chance you will be the only one left to use thisbefore the day is over. "

I stretched the drive over to China Joe's place just as much as I could. Trying to figure if there was another way of doing it. There wasn't. Murder had been done and Joe was the boy I was going to pin it on. So Ihad to get him. 

The best I could do was stop around the corner and give Ned a briefing. 

"This combination bar and dice-room is the sole property of he whom wewill still call China Joe until there is time for you to give me arundown on him. Right now I got enough distractions. What we have to dois go in there, find Joe and bring him to justice. Simple?"

"Simple, " Ned answered in his sharp Joe-college voice. "But wouldn't itbe simpler to make the arrest now, when he is leaving in that car, instead of waiting until he returns?"

The car in mention was doing sixty as it came out of the alley ahead ofus. I only had a glimpse of Joe in the back seat as it tore by us. 

"Stop them!" I shouted, mostly for my own benefit since I was driving. Itried to shift gears and start the engine at the same time, andsucceeded in doing exactly nothing. 

So Ned stopped them. It had been phrased as an order. He leaned his headout of the window and I saw at once why most of his equipment waslocated in his torso. Probably his brain as well. There sure wasn't muchroom left in his head when that cannon was tucked away in there. 

A . 75 recoilless. A plate swiveled back right where his nose should havebeen if he had one, and the big muzzle pointed out. It's a neat ideawhen you think about it. Right between the eyes for good aiming, uphigh, always ready. 

The BOOM BOOM almost took my head off. Of course Ned was a perfectshot--so would I be with a computer for a brain. He had holed one reartire with each slug and the car flap-flapped to a stop a little waysdown the road. I climbed out slowly while Ned sprinted there in secondsflat. They didn't even try to run this time. What little nerve they hadleft must have been shattered by the smoking muzzle of that . 75 pokingout from between Ned's eyes. Robots are neat about things like that sohe must have left it sticking out deliberate. Probably had a course inpsychology back in robot school. 

Three of them in the car, all waving their hands in the air like thelast reel of a western. And the rear floor covered with interestinglittle suitcases. 

Everyone came along quietly. 

China Joe only snarled while Ned told me that his name really wasStantin and the Elmira hot seat was kept warm all the time in hopes hewould be back. I promised Joe-Stantin I would be happy to arrange itthat same day. Thereby not worrying about any slip-ups with the localauthorities. The rest of the mob would stand trial in Canal City. 

It was a very busy day. 

Things have quieted down a good deal since then. Billy is out of thehospital and wearing my old sergeant's stripes. Even Fats is back, though he is sober once in a while now and has trouble looking me in theeye. We don't have much to do because in addition to being a quiet townthis is now an honest one. 

Ned is on foot patrol nights and in charge of the lab and files days. Maybe the Policeman's Benevolent wouldn't like that, but Ned doesn'tseem to mind. He touched up all the bullet scratches and keeps his badgepolished. I know a robot can't be happy or sad--but Ned _seems_ to behappy. 

Sometimes I would swear I can hear him humming to himself. But, ofcourse, that is only the motors and things going around. 

When you start thinking about it, I suppose we set some kind ofprecedent here. What with putting on a robot as a full-fledged policeofficer. No one ever came around from the factory yet, so I have neverfound out if we're the first or not. 

And I'll tell you something else. I'm not going to stay in thisbroken-down town forever. I have some letters out now, looking for a newjob. 

So some people are going to be _very_ surprised when they see who theirnew Chief of Police is after _I_ leave. 

Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ August 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.