"Come in, Jon. Sit down."
"Have you seen the projectors those crackpots have set up in the hills?" Graves demanded.
"I have, Jon. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"My God, Han! Do you have any idea of what it must feel like to die from cortical stimulation?" Graves' voice was tense and strained. "Can't we get out of here by 'copter?"
"No. The 'copters are both in Francisco picking up supplies. I ordered them out yesterday. Besides, that wouldn't settle anything. There are almost a thousand androids in the Creche as of this morning. What about them?"
Graves made a gesture of impatience. "It's the humans I'm thinking about."
Merrick forced down the bitter taste of disgust that welled into his throat and forced himself to go on. "We have to take some sort of action to protect the Creche, Jon. I've held off until the last moment, thinking the Council would never allow a Fanatic to investigate the Creche, but the Ten are more afraid of the HSP rubber stamp vote than they are of letting a thousand androids be slaughtered. But we can't leave it at that. If we don't prevent it, Erikson will precipitate a pogrom that will make the Canalopolis massacre look like a tea-party." For some reason he held back the information about the effect of the Fanatic weapon on robot tissue. The vague notion that knowing, Jon Graves might cast his lot with Erikson, restrained him.
"Of course, Erikson will come in wearing an energy shield," Graves said.
"He will. And we have none," Virginia Merrick said softly.
"Can we compromise with him?" Graves asked.