Into the Slave Nebula Read Free Page A

me,” and hastened back the way he had come.
    He just made it before the door shut.
    Alone once more, Horn felt tears starting into his eyes as the android, conscious enough to have realized that there were voices nearby, tried to lift his hands and clutch at the world he could no longer see. His mouth had been torn at the corners; he attempted to articulate words, but they were shapeless and muffled with blood.
    That blood was as red as any human being’s. Overcoming his revulsion, Horn took the blue-skinned hand within his own. The android whimpered like a frightened child and pressed it feebly, drawing at least a shred of comfort from the contact.
    Why the hell hadn’t robots come running when he shouted for service? He swung around angrily to call again, and was startled to find someone—who had approached unheard—already standing only a few feet away. Beginning with the well-pressed cuffs in front of him, his eyes took in the dark business clothing, not of good quality but neat enough and well cleaned. By thissimple fact, that here was somebody still in working garb when everyone human in the city had changed into carnival rig, he knew that at the top he must encounter the blue face of another android.
    “It was good of you to do that much for him,” the newcomer said in a soft voice. I’m afraid it doesn’t look as though there’s much else that can be done—is there?”
    “What?” Horn was briefly confused. Nothing in his entire life had so rocked his personality as this encounter with the victim of a sadist’s lusts … if he was to believe the explanation offered by the pudgy man.
    “I mean holding his hand like that,” the newcomer said. “If you’ll excuse me, sir …?”
    Dazed, Horn drew back. With swift economical movements the android dropped on one knee beside his fellow, produced a diadermic syringe as neat and deadly looking as a pistol, and applied it to the upturned veins of his wrist. In a moment the writhing and moaning stopped.
    Meanwhile, Horn had risen to his feet, unsteadily. “You—ah—you’re on the hotel staff?” he asked. His voice was brusquer than he intended, but otherwise it might have broken.
    Wary, as though expecting a complaint about the quality of the service which permitted a guest to encounter such a shocking sight as this, the android nodded.
    “I’m the manager’s secretary, sir,” he said. “For the duration of carnival, of course, that makes me effectively the manager—my chief went to the fairground half an hour ago. On his behalf, I’d like to apologize for this unfortunate incident.”
    “Unfortunate!” The word burst out at the shrill top of Horn’s vocal register. “But this is terrible!” And, catching the android’s threatened renewal of apology before itcould be spoken, he plunged on. “No, I don’t mean my finding the poor devil beaten up and lying here! I mean that anyone should want to do such a horrible thing!”
    There was a moment of tense silence, during which the android seemed to be evaluating what he had just heard. At length he said, “It’s kind of you to express such concern, sir. But no doubt the perpetrator will be charged for what he has done.”
    “Is that all you can think of—someone having the cost of his fun added to his bill?”
    Once more the android hesitated. Abruply he relaxed. He said in a tone which bordered on the confidential, “Frankly, sir,
no
. That’s the last thing which concerns me. But the—is culprit too strong a word?—the
person responsible
hasn’t committed a crime, you know. We may be expensive, but we are replaceable.”
    “But surely—”
    “Oh, certainly my colleague was trained, and valuable to the hotel. He was the floor manager, incidentally. He—”
    “Was?”
    “I gave him a shot of comatine.” The android hefted his diadermic, glanced down at it thoughtfully, and returned it to his pocket. “One learns to judge whether an android is damaged beyond hope of economical