"I believe they are called blood-hounds." Pwowp became motionless for several seconds. "I think we'd better return to the surface," he said. "We have visitors coming." He turned to leave. As the robot hesitated, he turned back. "I understand you," he said. "It's natural to want to see the creatures you have kinship with. That will come later. In fact, you are to have complete charge of them. We have been unable to get anywhere with them—probably because we don't understand their psychology. Their young are to be trained for service in those robots. We have all the necessary equipment for it. First we have to see how your plan to trap any pursuers will work."
2615 tore its eyes from the view below and followed Pwowp. Shortly the robot was looking into a large viewscreen at two ships riding their trails toward the planetoid.
"They won't be within range for another two hours yet. Right now the robot bodies are being unloaded—just in case. We thought you would enjoy the honor of destroying those ships."
For the first time a low rumble emerged from the voice box of 2615. It was the almost whispered growl of anger of a bloodhound. It turned back to the screen. "One of those two ships isn't the kind that would come after the freighter," it said. "From the pattern of its rocket trail I would say it's a private ship."
"I noticed that," Pwowp said. "I can identify the type. I believe one of our monitors is picking up a broadcast from one of those ships."
A loudspeaker spat into life in the room.
"Calling robot 532 dash 03 dash 2615," a voice said. It was a female human voice, its tones rich with undertones of pleading urgency. "If you can hear me, please listen. I'm the owner of that freighter you're on. I want to talk to you. I understand you, and I want to help you."
The girl began repeating her message.
The robot turned to its companions. "This casts a different light on things," it said.