Disgustedly he turned towards the port and the grim old mansion looming large in the cold, storm-born dusk, and hesitated. The message had gotten through. They at least knew Andres' condition and position; they would doubtless come plunging to the Rendezvous. He must leave a message!
Moments later he returned to the ship, a disrupter and a freshly-charged paralysis-pellet gun buckled at his waist. Before him scurried the automaton, its tragi-comic simian face turned back to him as if exhorting him to greater speed.
Gently, awesomely, almost reverently (for is not reverence born in recognition of the mighty and the mystic unknown which man cannot quite understand?), he handed the monkey-like thing into the cabin and followed.
Blasting off, he set a Mercator course, with all due corrections, for Calidao. Soon he outflew the fringes of the storm and then night fell like a finely-stitched widow's veil, the stars danced crazily as the air cooled, and he was alone in the darkness, roaring at full speed towards Calidao. Alone, aye, save for the weird little robot standing by his side, whatever life it possessed recording his every movement.
Gloom and hope held thrall in his soul. Things had seemed soluble with Andres smiling and pledging his support. Now he had weapons and a ship and a strong feeling that Onupari was still in Calidao, but—he was alone! Del was not here to help him. Still, he did have weapons. He might—
Aye, gloom was fighting a losing battle. A transcendental confidence was stirring his breast—and yet he wondered if it were not telepathic hypnosis finding genesis in the mind of the alien life which was close beside him? What were the limits of its intellect? What aid might it give? He did not dare to even wonder.
IV
Who could say what thoughts, emotions, surged through the robot's mind? Intelligence there was and an undeniable strength inspiring confidence.... And something greater—some indefinable prowess beyond, perhaps, the ken of man—