The girl bit her lip. Her cheeks were flushed, her large blue eyes starry with fright. "Then—then you think they'll try to break in here?"
"Of course they will! We're a menace to their continued existence. If we could just get hold of an atom gun, though. R-3 sounded frightened!"
"Frightened?" asked Sofi. She was still breathing heavily, but she had begun to quiet down. "Now who's reading emotion into the robots?"
He said with a puzzled expression, "It wasn't so much the nuance as his choice of words. 'Father is attacking the space ship! Aid! Aid!' He gave every appearance of being as frightened as we were. It's impossible, but they seem to be developing emotions!"
Sofi dropped weakly in a chair, clasped her arms around her knees. "Why should it be impossible?"
"You sound like R-7." He began pacing the sun deck. "Emotion results from glandular activity. The robots don't have glands."
"They've got their counterparts."
"Maybe," he admitted doubtfully. "You're referring to the metabolism that breaks down the rawstuffs and converts it into fuel, lubrication—that sort of chemical change?"
She nodded.
"I don't know. Anyway, it's worth a try. If they really experience fear, we might be able to bluff them."