People with disabilities -- Fiction; Science fiction
"Leave without the tank? Not a chance. Vogel hasn't got complete
control of the robots yet." It seemed to be true. They were huddled
away from the ship, looking alternately at the rocket and the tank,
nearly motionless, paralyzed.
"Yeah, but he'll have them soon. Look at them."
"I am, which is why I think he's having trouble. Give me full power on
the emergency radio."
"What good will it do? He's got priority."
"He's got it, but can he push it through to them? It's my idea that he
can't, that he's at the wrong angle to put much power in his signal.
There's a lot of steel between him and the robots and that's weakening
his beam."
"Maybe you've got something," said Jordan. "I'll burn the emergency
stuff out. If it doesn't work we won't need it again anyway." He
flipped the dials until the lights above them were blazing fiercely.
"Energized geepees are requested to lend assistance. This is an
emergency. Place the tank in the ship. At once. At once."
Geepees were not designed to sift contradictory commands at nearly
the same level of urgency. Their reasoning ability was feeble but the
mechanism that enabled them to think at all was complicated. In one
respect they resembled humans: borderline decisions were difficult. A
ship in distress--an asteroid in danger. Both called for the robot to
destroy itself if necessary. It seemed as if that was all that would be
accomplished.
"More power," whispered Docchi.
"There ain't more," answered Jordan, but somehow he coaxed an extra
trickle out of the reserves.
Marionettes. But they were always that, puppets on invisible wires.
And now this string led toward one action. Another, intrinsically
more important but suddenly less powerful, pulled for something else.
Circuits burned in electronic brains. Microrays fluttered under the
stress. They didn't know. They just didn't know.
But there had to be a choice.
Stiffly the geepees moved in and grasped the tank. The quality of their
decision was strained. They were pushing themselves more than the tank
but inch by inch the huge twisted structure rolled up the ramp.
"When it's completely on, raise the ramp." Docchi wasn't aware that he
could hardly be heard.
The cargo ramp began to lift up. The tank gained speed as it rolled
forward into the ship. "Geepees, the job is finished. Save yourselves,"
shouted Docchi. He saw a swirl of metallic bodies as they leaped from
the ramp.
Jordan breathed deeply. "That did it. I don't think they can hurt us
now."
"It's not over. Get ship-to-station communication, if there's any radio
left."
"I'll be surprised if there is," muttered Jordan, but his skepticism
was without basis. The radio was still functioning. He made the
adjustments.
Docchi was matter of fact. "Vogel, we're going out. Don't try to stop
us. Give us clearance and save the dome some damage."
There was no reply.
"He's bluffing," said Jordan. "He knows the airlocks in the main dome
will close automatically if we break through."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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