"I saw the lights in the rocket dome go out. The entrance was open, so I came in. Maybe I can help." "They're off, all right. Everything. Even the standby system." The rocket pilot moved closer. The deadly little toaster was in his hand. "You can't help. You'd better get out. It's against regulations for you to be in here." Docchi ignored the weapon. "What happened? Did a meteor strike?" The pilot grunted. "Not likely." He peered intently at the barely visible silhouette. "Well, I see you're getting smart. You should do that all the time. You look better that way, even if they're not usable arms. You look...." His voice faded away. "Sure, almost human," Docchi finished for him. "Not like a pair of legs and a spinal column with a lightning bug stuck on top." "I didn't say that. So you're sensitive about it, eh? Maybe that's not your fault. Anyway, you'd better get going." "But I don't want to go," said Docchi deliberately. "I'm not afraid of the dark. Are you?" "Cut the psycho talk, Docchi. All your circuits are working and you know it. Now get out of here before I take your fake hand and drag you out." "Now you've hurt my feelings," declared Docchi reproachfully, nimbly stepping away. "You asked for it," growled the pilot, lunging after him. What he took hold of wasn't an imitation hand, made of plastic. It was flesh and blood. That was why the pilot screamed, once, before he was lifted off his feet and slammed to the floor. Docchi bent double. The dark figure on his back came over his head like a sword from a scabbard. "Jor--" "Yeah," said Jordan. He wrapped one arm around the pilot's throat and clamped it tight. With the other he felt for the toaster the pilot still held. Effortlessly he tore it away and used the butt with just enough force to knock the pilot unconscious without smashing the skull. Docchi stood by until it was over. All he could offer was an ineffectual kick, not balanced by arms. It wasn't needed. "Let there be light," ordered Jordan, laughing, and there was, a feeble, flickering illumination from Docchi. Jordan was balancing himself on his hands. A strong head, massive, powerful arms and shoulders. His body ended at his chest. A round metal capsule contained his digestive system. "Dead?" Docchi looked down at the pilot. Jordan rocked forward and listened for the heartbeat. "Nah," he said. "I remembered in time that we can't afford to kill anyone." "Good," said Docchi, and stifled an exclamation as something coiled around his leg. His reactions were fast; he broke loose almost instantly. "Repair robot," said Jordan, looking around. "The place is lousy with them." Docchi blinked on and off involuntarily and the robot came toward him. "Friendly creature," observed Jordan. "He's offering to fix your lighting system for you." Docchi ignored the squat contrivance and stared at the pilot. "Now what?" he asked.