Blindly confident, Tio Holtzman plunged ahead with his new idea, making Norma Cenva feel like chaff in a gusting wind. With his alloy-resonance generator, the inventor insisted on proving himself to her.

Though she remained doubtful that his concept would work, Norma could not demonstrate her reason for uncertainty with straightforward mathematical proofs. Instinct spoke to her like a nagging voice, but she kept her worries to herself. After Holtzman’s sour reaction to her initial reservations, he had not asked for her opinion again.

Norma hoped that she was mistaken. She was human, after all, and far from perfect.

While the Savant busied himself inside the domed demonstration laboratory— a theater-sized structure atop an adjoining bluff— Norma kept to the sidelines. Even her most innocent participation made him nervous, as if he put more stock in her doubts than he admitted aloud.

Now she stood on the span of the bridge between bluff sections and reached up to grab the rail. Listening to breezes hum through the cables, she peered through safety netting at the river traffic far below.

She heard Holtzman inside the domed demo-lab, shouting to slaves as they erected a bulky generator that produced a resonating field intended to shake apart and melt a metal form. An imperious presence in a white-and-purple robe, he wore chains of office about his neck, baubles that signified his scientific awards and achievements. Holtzman glared at his workers, then paced around, double-checking, watching every detail.

Lord Bludd and a handful of Poritrin nobles would join them to watch the day’s test, so Norma understood Holtzman’s anxiety. She herself would never have made such an extravagant presentation of an untried device, but the scientist did not show even a glimmer of doubt.

“Norma, please assist me in here,” Holtzman called in an exasperated tone. On short legs she ran from the bridge into the enclosure. He gestured disgustedly toward the slaves. “They don’t understand a thing I’ve told them to do. Supervise them, so I can test the calibration.”

At the center of the reinforced chamber, Holtzman’s crew had erected a metal mannequin that had the vague features of a combat robot. Norma had never seen a real thinking machine, but had scrutinized many stored images. She stared at the mockup. This was the enemy, the true foe against which all of her work must be directed.

She looked at her mentor with more compassion, understanding his desperation. Holtzman was morally obligated to pursue any idea, to find any way to continue this noble fight. He had a good feel for projected energies, distortion fields, and nonprojectile weaponry. She hoped his alloy-resonance generator would work after all.

Before the slaves had finished rigging the test apparatus, a commotion occurred outside the main house. Ribbon-festooned ceremonial barges came into view above the cliffs, where Holtzman’s balconies overlooked the river. Scale-armored Dragoon guards stood on the flying craft with Lord Bludd, along with five senators and a black-robed court historian.

Holtzman dropped what he was doing. “Norma, finish this. Please!” Without looking back at her, he rushed across the connecting bridge to greet his prestigious visitors.

Norma urged the slaves to hurry, as she personally adjusted the calibrations and attuned the apparatus to the inventor’s specifications. Light shone through high skylights to illuminate the robot facsimile. Reinforced metal ceiling beams crisscrossed the overhead vault, supporting pulleys and winches that had been used to haul the blockish resonance generator into place.

Moody Zenshiite slaves milled about, wearing traditional clothing, red-and-white stripes wrapped around serviceable gray jumpsuits. Many slave owners didn’t allow their captives to show signs of individuality, but Holtzman didn’t care one way or the other. He only wanted the captive people to perform their tasks without complaint.

As they completed their work the slaves backed close to the plated wall, their dark gazes averted. One black-bearded, shadowy-eyed man spoke to them in a language unfamiliar to Norma. Moments later a grinning Holtzman ushered his impressive guests into the demonstration area.

The Savant made a grand entrance. At his side, Niko Bludd wore a billowing azure tunic and a scarlet doublet fastened across his barrel chest. His reddish beard had been curled in neat ringlets. Small tattooed circles looked like bubbles at the far points of each eyelid.

Walking past the slaves, Bludd noticed Norma and gave the diminutive woman a smile that was both condescending and paternal. Norma bent in a formal bow and politely grasped his slick, lotioned hand.

“We know your time is valuable, Lord Bludd. Therefore, everything has been prepared.” Holtzman folded his hands. “This new device has never been tested, and in today’s presentation you will be the first to witness its potential.”

Bludd’s voice was deep, but musical. “We always expect the best from you, Tio. If thinking machines have nightmares, no doubt you are in them.”

The entourage chuckled, and Holtzman did his best to blush. He turned toward the slaves and began issuing orders. A half dozen workers held data-recording devices, positioned at important points around the robot mockup.

Plush chairs from the main residence had been arranged as seats of honor. Holtzman sat beside Lord Bludd, and Norma was forced to stand by the door. Her mentor appeared confident and intense, but she knew how worried he really was. A failure today might dim his glory in the eyes of the politically powerful nobles on Poritrin.

The esteemed observers sat in their cumbersome chairs. Holtzman stared at the generator setup, glancing around as if offering a quiet prayer. He smiled reassuringly at Norma, then ordered the activation of the prototype.

A slave flipped a switch, as he had been taught to do. The bulky generator began to hum, directing its invisible beam toward the robot construction.

“If put to practical use,” Holtzman said with the faintest of quavers, “we will find ways to make the generator more compact, more easily installed on small ships.”

“Or we can just build bigger ships,” Bludd said, with a deep chortle.

The hum grew louder, a vibrating rattle that made Norma’s teeth chatter. She noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on Holtzman’s brow.

“Look, you can see it already.” The scientist pointed. The targeted robot began to shake, its metal limbs jostling and torso vibrating. “The effect will continue to build.”

Bludd was delighted. “That robot is regretting he ever turned against the human race, isn’t he!”

The facsimile robot began to shimmer cherry red, its metal heating up as the alloys were attuned to the destructive field projected upon it. Glowing brighter, it shifted to yellow mixed with patches of blinding white.

“By now, a real robot would have been destroyed internally,” Holtzman said, finally looking content.

Abruptly the laboratory’s heavy ceiling girders started to rattle, a secondary resonance fed from the targeted robot into the dome’s structural framework. The thick walls rumbled and shuddered. A high-pitched hum shrieked through the structure.

Norma cried, “The resonance field is bleeding over.”

Ceiling girders clenched like angry snakes. A crack opened in the dome.

“Shut it off!” Holtzman shouted, but the terrified slaves scrambled to a corner of the room, as far from the generator as they could get.

The robot mockup undulated and twisted, its body core melting. Support struts that held it inside the targeting zone buckled. The ominous-looking combat machine lurched forward then abruptly fell and shattered into blackened metal.

Holtzman grabbed Niko Bludd’s sleeve. “My Lord, please hurry across the bridge to my main quarters. We seem to have a . . . slight problem.”

The other nobles were already pelting across the high-tension bridge. Norma was swept along with them. She took one look behind her and saw that the Zenshiite slaves were uncertain what to do. Tio Holtzman gave them no guidance as he retreated over the walkway right behind Bludd.

From safety, Norma watched six panicked slaves stumble onto the bridge. Remaining behind, the dark-haired leader pushed them forward, shouting in their odd language. The walkway began to whip up and down as resonance from the projector coupled to the bridge’s connecting metal.

The bearded Zenshiite leader howled at them again. Norma wished she could rescue those unfortunate, confused people. Couldn’t the Dragoon guards do anything? Holtzman remained speechless on this side of the bluff, paralyzed with shock.

Before the first batch of slaves could cross, the suspension walkway snapped in the middle, dropping open in a screeching groan of agonized metal. The hapless victims plummeted two hundred meters to the base of the bluff and into the river.

Standing on the threshold, separated now by the gulf between the cliffs, the black-bearded leader cursed again. Behind him, a section of the vaulted roof crashed down, destroying the prototype generator and finally stopping the relentless pulse.

Dust settled. A few flames and a curl of smoke rose into the air amidst the wailing of injured men still trapped within the collapsed building.

Norma felt sick. Beside her, Holtzman sweated profusely and lookedill. He blinked again and again, then wiped his forehead. His skin was gray.

In a wry voice, Bludd said, “Not one of your most successful efforts, Tio.”

“But you must admit, the concept shows promise, Lord Bludd. Look at the destructive potential,” Holtzman said, looking at the unruffled nobles without even considering the dead and injured slaves. “We can be thankful at least that no one was hurt.”