The other chuckled. "Maybe he's changed his mind, and wants to go home. He'll be surprised when he learns where he's bound for." I'll admit I panicked then--because a robot chuckled. It's not the friendly sound you might think. And also because of what it said. I had no intention of going home, but I liked to think I could if I wanted to. Now I saw that, due to their system of rotating assignments, it was next to impossible to determine which ship was going back to Earth. I made up my mind quickly. Several things happened simultaneously. I dematerialized myself where I was, and rematerialized tenuously inside the robot. At the same time I took control of its motor and brain centers. I forced it away from the job, and commanded it to go to the storage space where the last of my food was hidden. The other robot didn't notice. I surmised they didn't take orders from each other but from someone above. For the moment _I_ was above. Out of the ship we went, and into the confusion of the repair shops. Nothing but ships and robots, and I'd had enough of these. I needed a hiding place to rest, and plan my forays against the creatures of this planet. I rummaged hurriedly through the robot brain, and learned that we were near the edge of a large city. Without cataloguing all the information I received, I forced the robot through obscure alleys toward the open plain that surrounded the city. It was cramped and uncomfortable inside the robot even though I didn't exist as solid matter. And I had to operate blind. I couldn't adjust my sight to that of the robot, and had to function once removed from reality, through its incomplete senses. The last alley we entered ended on the open plain. The robot rolled down it--and stopped. I couldn't see what was in front of us, but I could guess--one of the creatures of the planet, the things that made the flying saucers. Without hesitation I directed the robot to attack. It didn't. It's refusal was not unexpected. They would have been quite insane to build robots without installing some safeguards. It meant, however, that the next step was up to me. I took it. I dematerialized out of the robot and rematerialized facing my antagonist. On the average it takes me a few microseconds to evaluate a foe, and find his weakness. I looked longer than that. It was the first time I had seen anything that could destroy at a glance my confidence in my own survival capacity. And there was no weakness. * * * * * What I did then was not cowardice, it was pure survival, the reaction of a nervous system shocked to the limits of endurance. I dematerialized myself from where I stood and rematerialized far out on the open plain. Twice I repeated the process until the city was out of sight over the horizon. The creature didn't follow, though it could have done so easily enough--if it had wanted to.