“He said it was for the best out of loyalty to you; your generosity saved you from the trap. But doesn’t he love her too?”
“Not yet. He will hold out longer than I would have.”
Stile’s fist clenched. “Maybe too long.” One robot stood behind Bluette, pinning her arms back, holding her firmly. The other glanced at the holo-image for clarification. “No permanent damage yet,” the captor said. “Pinch her knee, slowly. Make her scream.”
“The knee!” Stile exclaimed. “That’s my enemy!” The robot reached for Bluette’s knee. The woman lifted both legs and planted them in the robot’s chest and shoved violently. Though the machine was strong, it did not have extraordinary mass; the shove drove it back several steps. “She fights; that’s all to the good,” the holo-woman said. “We need commotion.”
The robot holding Bluette did not let go. The recoil shoved it back a step; then it stood £rm. “You can’t fight robots,” the captor told her. “I don’t want you anyway. I want him. Make some noise, bring him in, and you won’t have to suffer.”
“What do you want with Stile?” Bluette cried. “She remembered to use your name,” Sheen said. “Smart woman.”
“I want this time to be quite sure he is dead,” the captor said. “But first I want to know why he proposed to destroy me. Adepts don’t usually fight Adepts. He had no call to attack me.”
Bluette’s surprise was genuine. “There really is a world of magic?”
“You will never see it. Now call the Blue Adept.”
“So you can torture him too? Never!”
“Do it,” the captor said to the robot.
The robot caught the lady’s leg and held it despite her struggles. It placed its metal fingers on her knee and squeezed. The pressure was obviously tremendous, cranking slowly up like that of a vise. She inhaled to scream, but caught herself and held her breath instead. “My knees with a laser; hers with a robot,” Stile grated. He was afraid for the lady, and chokingly angry—and helpless. Whatever would be—had already been. Bluette collapsed, sobbing. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts!”
“Call him,” the captor said dispassionately. “Scream. Bring him to you.”
Bluette looked defiant. The robot squeezed again. She collapsed again. “Stop! I’ll do it!”
The robot paused, hand still on knee. Dark showed around the edge of its grip, where pressure had crushed the fair skin. Bluette took another ragged breath. “S-s—“ she hissed, trying to call through her sobs. “You can do better than that,” the captor said without pity.
“He—went down that passage,” Bluette said, entirely unnerved. “I—I’ll try. Let me get closer—“ “What a sniveler you are!” the captor rapped. Now Stile smiled, grimly. “She is no sniveler. She knows what she has to do.”
“Robots are no match for the wiles of woman,” Sheen agreed.
The captor decided. “Take her to the force-field. Put only her head through. Hold it there until the man comes.”
Now Bluette held back. “No—“
“You will call him—or suffocate slowly,” the captor said.
The robots hauled the struggling Bluette to the force-field. One put a hand to her head, grasped her hair, and shoved her head through.
The opacity of the force-field exploded into man-form. One robot was lifted into the air and swung about by the legs so that its head crashed into the wall, hard. There was a blue flash of electricity as its wiring shorted; it was done for.
Already Hulk was turning on the other robot. But this one retained its hold on Bluette. Hulk could not get at it without going through her.
Without pause. Hulk turned back to the first robot, picked it up again by the feet, and smashed it into the wall again. Then he jumped on it, caught hold of one of its arms, and wrenched the limb up and around. His muscles bulged hugely as he strained—and the arm broke off, trailing wires. He worked it all the way free. “That man is beautiful,” Sheen said.
“They kidnapped more than they bargained on,” Stile agreed with grim satisfaction. “Hulk is the over-thirty serf wrestling champion, and he knows free-fighting too. Now he is armed, with only one robot left to disable. He has a fair chance.”
Hulk stalked the robot with his improvised weapon.
“Turn her loose, machine. You can not fight me while you remain encumbered with her.”
The robot retreated uncertainly, but retained its hold on Bluette, “What’s this?” the captor screamed. “You are not the Blue Adept!”
“I never said I was,” Hulk replied, baring his teeth in a fighting grin. “I’m his bodyguard.” He smashed his club at the robot, catching it on the back of the head. It let Bluette go, and she limped hastily away.
“Kill them both!” the captor screamed, enraged.
Hulk stood facing the robot, but he spoke to Bluette. “Go to the body. Open the chest cavity. Take out the breathing mask. Put it on and flee. I will occupy this machine.”
“I can’t go without you!” Bluette cried.
“You must go before the witch summons other help. Go to your Employer; bring a rescue mission here. Don’t let the robot make you hostage again. I need this chamber clear to fight it properly.”
