Behind him the door opened violently. Sharp heels clicked on the floor. "Mr. Wilson," Stella demanded. "I know why this man is here. You're going to give him instructions to blast my freighter out of existence the minute he can—"
"You're Stella Gamble?" Wilson said. "I've heard of you. Will you please wait in the reception room until I finish with—"
"Larry Jackson," Stella pronounced the name. Her wide-set blue eyes showed scorn. "The man who is going to kill one of my men and destroy my ship and its cargo just to get at a robot."
"Just to get at a robot?" Wilson said indignantly. "You must be out of your head!" He picked up an oblong of paper on his desk and thrust it at Larry. "The junkship has been traced three hundred million miles out by routine radar. You can pick it up from there by ion tracking—we hope. Don't take any chances. Destroy that ship!" His lips trembled. "Even if the pilot is still on it. It's one life against...." He didn't complete the thought.
"Against fear," Stella said. "You are all cowards. Afraid of a dog because it could turn against you."
"Afraid of an intelligence," Wilson said wearily. His lips pulled back in a weak grin. "So are you. You're just more afraid of going broke."
Larry folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He turned toward the door. Stella clutched his sleeve, stopping him. She spoke swiftly, pleading. "Let me go with you. I'm capable. Give me a chance to go down and reason with that robot. If it doesn't work...."
Larry looked at her upturned face, the lips that could smile or laugh more naturally than pout, the wide-set eyes that could do things to him at any other time. He thought, it's a shame I won't ever get the chance. "Sorry, Miss Gamble," he said stiffly, "I'm on duty, and I'm not permitted to take passengers with me."
He went on toward the door, feeling his sleeve tear at her nails as she tried to hold him longer.
"It's very unfortunate—" Wilson said as Larry opened the door.