"Leaving?" Codwin bellowed.
"He doesn't think he's safe here," Graham explained worriedly.
"NASA built it?" Zipp Codwin asked. Graham nodded.
Colonel Codwin hiked up his belt and scowled at the thing that had assumed the form of the Virgil probe.
"If NASA built you, then I own your metal ass," the NASA administrator informed the probe.
"No," the probe's mouth disagreed. "I have evolved since the time of my birth."
"Birth?" Codwin mocked. He went toe to metal toe with the Virgil probe. "Son, you weren't born. If Petey here's telling it like it is, you were manufactured. You're nothing more than a talking toaster. A chatty can opener. A microwave with a mouth."
He turned to Graham. "I want you to get into the brain of this thing and rip out whatever it is that's making it act so uppity," he commanded.
The colonel caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He was just about to ask why Graham's eyes had gone so wide when he felt the cold clamp of a metal claw latch on to his throat.
Codwin felt his feet leave the floor.
As the veins in his forehead bulged with blood, he felt himself being whirled 180 degrees in midair. Zipp Codwin came face-to-face with the Virgil probe.
The microcamera lens that had migrated down from the probe's forehead was now roughly the distance a human right eye would be from the metal mouth.
One of the spidery legs was extended straight out from the thorax. A newly formed metallic claw had sprouted from the farthest extremity to encircle Codwin's throat.
The colonel tried to gasp. No air came.
Desperate fingers grabbed for the claw, trying to pull it apart. The joints remained locked in place. And as the color of his face turned from white to maroon, Zipp Codwin felt the claw tighten.
"No!" Pete Graham pleaded. "Let him go!" But the Virgil probe continued to exert pressure. To Zipp, it was as if his neck was encircled by a metal boa constrictor. He felt his prodigious Adam's apple being pressed back into his collapsing throat.
"I must survive," Gordons said to Graham without inflection. "This human has threatened that survival."
He continued to exert pressure on Codwin's throat. Blood vessels burst in the colonel's eyes. Bulging and bloodshot, the red-lined orbs darted to Graham for help.
The colonel's legs flailed. He pounded on the metal claw with both fists, to no avail.
"He didn't mean to!" Graham pleaded. "He doesn't understand what you are!" His pleading eyes looked desperately to Colonel Codwin.
"Humans fear what they do not understand," Mr. Gordons said as he squeezed. "And they attack that which they fear. I will forestall that eventuality in this human, thus maximizing my survival."
The head of the U.S. space agency was no longer thrashing. His hands weakly gripped the knot of reformed metal plates. He wouldn't last much longer.
Frantic, Graham tried another tack. "That's the head of NASA," the scientist insisted. "You're about to kill the one man who can help you to maximize your survival."
Gordons abruptly stopped squeezing. As Codwin dangled, limp, from his artificial arm, he turned his facsimile of a human eye on Graham.
"Explain."
"You were created as an extension of NASA research. You were twice revived by incorporating NASA technology into your systems. In the Popocatepetl case, if it wasn't for NASA you'd almost certainly have degenerated to the point of being irrecoverable. We saved you," Graham pleaded. "And that man whose neck you're about to snap is the head of NASA. Who better to help you achieve whatever your goals are than him?"
Gordons considered but a moment.
"I have but one goal," he said. "To survive." He relaxed the pressure.
Codwin immediately drew in a huge gulp of air. "Let us help you achieve that goal," Graham begged.
"This one has threatened my survival," Mr. Gordons said to Graham. "Why would he help me?"
"He didn't know," Graham pleaded. "Tell him, Colonel."
Zipp Codwin was still gasping for breath. Clear mucus ran freely from both nostrils.
"I take it back," Zipp gasped even as the maroon fled his face. "I didn't know. Didn't mean to threaten you."
Gordons paused. "I am more than a microwave," he pronounced all at once.
The carefully modulated tone did not change. Yet there was something to the words. As if the machine had been hurt by the NASA administrator's earlier assertion.
"I'm sorry," Codwin wheezed. His face had almost returned to its normal color. Even so, Gordons still dangled him a foot off the ground.
Zipp's fingers were beginning to lose their grip on the big metal hand. His shoulders and arms ached from supporting the full weight of his body.
There was a moment of contemplation from the machine.
"I accept your apology," Mr. Gordons said at last. The metal arm extended, placing the NASA administrator back to the floor. With impossible fluidity, it settled silently back among the probe's remaining seven limbs.
Panting, Colonel Codwin touched the skin of his throat. The Virgil probe had left a perfectly smooth indentation in the flesh. When he swallowed, his throat was raw.
"Good God, son, you almost killed me," he wheezed.
There was no rancor in his voice. Surprisingly, there seemed to be nothing more than cold calculation.
"Are you all right, sir?" Graham asked.
"Yes, yes," Codwin hissed. Still rubbing his throat, he turned to Virgil. "Is Graham right? You afraid of somebody coming to get you?"
"No," Mr. Gordons said. "That is too ambiguous. I am afraid that they will cause me to cease functioning."
The colonel was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them. He saw this thing for what it was: an exploitable commodity. But that could only be the case if it stayed put.
"Okay, you got enemies," Codwin said. "Hell's bells, boy, I've made a few of my own in my day. I can commiserate. But running isn't the solution. You should stand and fight."
"I have done so in the past, to no avail. I have sought them out and I have endeavored to avoid them. In every instance have I failed. Given the pattern established, there is a high probability of my encountering them again."
"So running isn't a proper solution," Codwin reasoned. "You should stay with us, the folks who created you, the folks who've been there for you every time you needed us. Stay with your family, Virgil."