"Zee went blot," gasped Jay. "Tried to kill Onin. And me."
The girl's small expoder snapped out of her wrist holster into her hand and she sent a stream of mosquito-sized explosive bullets after the animat.
A second later the all-pervading sea of fog had swallowed the apelike shape and she released the button. She jammed the weapon against Jay's middle.
"I knew we should have killed all of you animats," she said coldly. "Without controls you are unpredictable—less than beasts."
Jay's muscles tensed for the miniature bomb blasts that the pellets' impact would bring. Then he relaxed, laughing quietly.
"You know," he said, "you should be at least four feet away before you fire. And before you can get that far I'll have the gun."
The muzzle dropped away. Thela started to inch backward. It was common knowledge that a biaton needle's explosion nearby was dangerous. The whole magazine might explode in her hand—a blast as devastating as a case of ancient dynamite.
Jay's hand chopped across the girl's wrist. Her cry of dismay choked off abruptly and her eyes sparked contempt.
"Go ahead," she cried. "Kill me. That's all you animats know how to do. Work, eat and destroy."
Jay tucked the tiny wrist expoder into his soggy trunks' waistband.