The Yugash flowed into the Bozog. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But, if so, which of you will be the pilot willing to surrender its own life for mine? No, I, too, knew it was a one-way trip, unless the Obie computer can send us back.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Mavra put in. “I don’t think any of us will ever see the inside of that control room. He’s too well defended.”

“If only there was some way to destroy it,” Wooley said in frustration. “A bomb, perhaps!”

“Maybe we can crash the ship into the big dish,” the Bozog suggested.

Mavra shook her head. “No, Obie’s pretty firm on that. Defenses are automatic since that was the weak point Trelig had to address. Fly into that beam and you’re gone.” Still, the idea of destroying Obie—which she rebelled against because, despite all, she liked and respected the thing—struck a chord. Schematics and plans flowed again, only this time with purpose.

Destruct. Destruct mechanisms.

The idea wouldn’t gel. A corner of her mind remembered Obie’s comment that, though he couldn’t absorb the Well’s input, he could do a few limited things by concentrating on a single, specific task. Well, Obie was to her what the Well was to Obie. She tried it, concentrating on destruct mechanisms.

And there it was.

Not a single one, but many, all over. Antor Trelig wanted to be certain that no one would ever be able to displace him as master of Obie or New Pompeii.

Excitedly, she told them about it. “Some are old—probably the original destruct mechanism for the whole planetoid. Others are new, in small pockets designed to blow vital parts of Obie in case Trelig was displaced.”

“Can we blow any of it?” Wooley asked.

Mavra sighed. “Let’s ask Obie—if he’ll tell us. He might not take kindly to assisting in his own murder.”

The elevator wall dissolved and the two women engaged their camouflage mechanisms. They blended well with the background. Though when moving, they could be made out with difficulty, they were generally undetectable to anyone not fully alert. The Well Worlder’s camp still lay nearby the top of the exit so the two crawled through the grass, and only someone actually looking for them would have noticed anything amiss.

In the clear now, they made their way to the primitive little colony of survivors of the destruction of New Pompeii.

Though Ben Yulin had instructed Obie not to tell anyone what he was doing about the Underside operations and plans, he had neglected to prohibit Obie from talking with others and thus only limited Obie’s informability.

“Hello, Obie, this is Mavra Chang,” she called into the ship’s radio.

“I’m here, Mavra,” the pleasant tenor of the computer replied.

She considered carefully what she was going to say. If in fact Obie could not cooperate in this, he might well have the power to stop it. At least he could warn Yulin.

“Obie, when we all came here, it was either to join with you in a partnership or to die. You know that.”

“I had concluded that you knew the only avenue home was through me.”

She nodded. “All right, then. It turned out bad. Wrong. Ben Yulin’s in there, and we can guess what land of person he is. We’re all agreed, even the Bozog and the Ghiskind, that we’re willing to die rather than let him get control of the big dish. You understand that?”

He seemed to sense her direction. “I accept that, Mavra. Come to the point. I feel as you do, if that helps any.”

It did. “Obie, in those plans you fed to me were the self-destruct mechanisms for New Pompeii. I’ve just picked them out of my mind.”

“I’m surprised it took you all this time,” responded the computer. “I am programmed not to participate in my own destruction, so I could not bring them to your attention, but I knew you’d find them sooner or later.”

His casual attitude and acceptance made it easier.

“All right, then. Obie, how is the main destruct system for New Pompeii’s power supply activated?” she asked. “Can you tell me that?”

“Phrased that way, yes,” Obie replied. “However, it’s a bust. It was coded to Trelig, almost literally built into him. If he were to die, so would the planetoid. But when he was transformed through the Well, the mechanism was removed. In effect, there is now no way to detonate the main power supply without a technical crew and a lot of work.”

She was disappointed. “Can any of the secondary systems still be activated?”

“All such systems are controlled from the control room itself. They are voice-actuated, and I’m afraid Ben wouldn’t allow something like that, nor could I give the codes to anyone not in the control room.”

“Could any one of them be triggered by external action?”

“Some.”

“Is there one that could be triggered by, say, the application of a strong electrical voltage to a specific message circuit?”

“There is at least one such,” Obie replied. “It is in the area between the voluntary and involuntary circuitry, and it can be reached from the main bridge. However, it is 62.35 meters down, and 7.61 meters inside the circuitry. The panel opening is less than a meter wide at that point, and the access tunnel twists up and around.”

Mavra concentrated. Diagrams sped by in her mind. She had it. She was learning that the more she used the implanted memory, the easier it became to find what she needed. Unfortunately, she had no overall picture. She knew the specific circuits, and she knew the general area, but she couldn’t be sure which opening led to that circuitry, or exactly which connector to jolt.

“Thank you, Obie,” she said sincerely. “We’ll take it from here.”

There was no reply.

She returned to the others with Renard, who’d sat there listening.

“There’s no way I could get into an opening that size, or even down there,” he pointed out. “Vistaru could fly down, and might fit, but she couldn’t handle the voltages, and her wings and stinger would be in the way, even if you knew just which circuit to tell her to reach. We’re probably dealing with a single microscopic line.”

She nodded. “No, you couldn’t. But the Ghiskind can certainly reach it. It could probably follow the circuitry all the way to the bomb.”

“So?” he responded. “What good is that? It can’t carry anything, nor generate a voltage.”

“But the Bozog could,” she pointed out. “I saw some traveling up walls at the launch site. Thousands of tiny, sticky feet. It’s low enough, and can ooze around curves like it managed in the elevator. And it can carry a wire—if we can find a hundred meters or more of thin copper wire.”

“Of course! Then all I’d have to do is touch the wire with a full charge after the Bozog carries it and the Ghiskind directs its placement!”

She nodded again. “But first we have to see if we have enough wire around. And, second, we have to lick the other problem—without Obie’s help, I’m afraid.”

He looked confused. “Other problem?”

“The Bozog is a living creature. It’s not at all immune to severe electrical jolts, nor—particularly—to those guns the plans in my head tell me are no bluff. The key area is on the far wall of the bridge, Renard. As long as Obie’s in his defense mode, we can’t get the Bozog to it.”

“Oh,” he said softly. Suddenly he froze, and there was a quizzical expression on his blue devil’s face. He cocked it slightly to one side, as if listening for something.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. Though Wooley had the best eyes of the group, Renard had by far the best hearing.

“There’s something moving over there, not far from the elevator,” he whispered. “Fairly large, too.”

She turned her head slightly, carefully, in that direction. Nothing could be seen.

For a while there was no sound, then even she heard it. A soft sound, as if something heavy were being dragged through the grass.

“Let’s head over to the elevator,” she suggested softly. He nodded imperceptibly and they strolled over, casual but alert.

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