"

"You mean toasters?"

"Anything that's lethal."

"Nothing. No knives even. Maybe a stray bar or so of metal." Vogel
scratched his head. "There is something dangerous, though. Dangerous
if you know how to take hold of it."

Instantly Cameron was alert. "What's that?"

"Why, the asteroid itself. You can't physically touch any part of the
gravital unit. But if you could somehow sneak an impulse into the
computer and change the direction of the field...." Vogel was very
grave. "You could pick up Handicap Haven and throw it anywhere you
wanted. At the Earth, say. Thirty miles in diameter is a big hunk of
rock."

It was this kind of information Cameron was looking for, though the
engineer seemed to regard the occasion as merely a social call. "Is
there any possibility of that occurring?" he asked quietly.

The engineer grinned. "Never happened, but they're ready for things
like that with any gravital system. They got monitor stations all
over--the moons of Jupiter, Mars, Earth, Venus.

"Any time the gravital computer gets dizzy, the monitor overrides it.
If that fails, they send a jammer impulse and freeze it up tight. It
won't work until they let loose."

Cameron sighed. He was getting very little help or information from
Vogel. "All right," he said. "You've told me what I wanted to know."

He watched the engineer depart for the gravity-generating chamber far
below the surface of the asteroid.

* * * * *

The post on Handicap Haven wasn't pleasant; it wasn't an experience a
normal human would desire. It did have advantages--advancement came in
sizes directly proportional to the disagreeableness of the place.

Ten months to go on a year's assignment. If Cameron could survive that
period with nothing to mar his administration, he was in line for
better positions. A suicide or any other kind of unpleasantness that
would focus the attention of the outside world on the forgotten
asteroid was definitely unwelcome.

He flipped on the telecom. "Rocket dome. Get me the pilot."

When the robot finally answered, it wasn't encouraging. "I'm sorry.
There is no answer."

"Then trace him," he snapped. "If he's not in the rocket dome, he's in
the main dome. I want you to get him at once."

A few seconds of silence followed. "There is no record of the pilot
leaving the rocket dome."

His heart skipped; with an effort he spoke carefully. "Scan the whole
area. Understand? You've got to