ly. "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.

"Agreed," said Jordan. "He needs attention. _Not_ the kind I gave
him." He balanced the toaster in his hand and burned a small hole in
the little wheeled monster. Tentacles emerged from the side of the
machine and felt puzzledly at the damaged area. The tentacles were
withdrawn and presently reappeared with a small torch and began
welding.

Jordan pulled the unconscious pilot toward him. He leaned against the
machine, raised the inert form over his head and laid it ge