Death Trap by Sigmund Brouwer Page B

said. “To prove it to you.”
    A third scientist snorted through his thick white beard. “You brought them back? That’s a robot out there. You’ve been here in your wheelchair, asleep. Now I understand why Director Steven thinks you’re dangerous. You’ve lost your mind.”
    I’d forgotten. The experiments with the robot were so recent that only Mom, Rawling, and the director knew about them.
    I grinned at all the people staring at me. “I think I have a way to prove to you that I’m in control of the robot.”

CHAPTER 26
    It had become a beautiful sensation, falling off the edge of a high, invisible cliff into a deep, invisible hole.
    When the falling ended, I focused my video lens upward at the platform buggy observation deck. I saw nine people crowded at the glass wall, peering down on me. Behind them, I knew, my motionless body sat in my wheelchair.
    The heat of the Martian sun seemed to glow in my titanium bones. It was midday, and the temperature registered 65 degrees Fahrenheit. In my entire life, I’d never been outside. It felt as marvelous now as it had when I’d first left the dome to scoot across the plains.
    And wind. It whistled across the stark rocks embedded in the sand. Tiny bits of sand rattled off my wheels and arms as I sped across the landscape. It was such a glorious feeling of being alive.
    I wanted to sit where I was and enjoy all of this—the things that humans on Earth can have anytime, just by stepping outside. But I’d made a promise to the scientists in the platform buggy. And they, in return, had made a promise to me.
    If I could convince them I was the brains of this robot, they’d follow me back to the dome and share their oxygen with the others.
    First I raised one titanium hand and waved.
    They hadn’t expected this. I could see on their faces that a few were startled. Others waved back, smiling.
    I waved at Director Steven in the other dome.
    He crossed his arms and frowned at me.
    I stopped waving. My left hand held two solar panel wheels, small like the wheels of roller blades on Earth. I dropped my right hand, which held one wheel, down to the ground. Holding the wheel tight between two fingers, I dragged my other titanium finger as I began to move the robot back and forth.
    When I was finished, I surveyed my handwriting in the sand. Take us home, it said in big letters.
    I looked up again and saw that many were pointing down. They could see it clearly, and they understood.
    But that wasn’t all I’d promised as proof.
    I turned the robot to face them as they watched me from the observatory decks of both platform buggies.
    In my mind, I took a deep breath. Breathing was one of the few things I did better in my own crippled body than I did in the robot body. Still, just thinking of breathing helped me concentrate. I wanted to do this right. I wanted to be able to lead them to the dome across the packed sand of the desert that let this robot run like it was a leopard.
    All eyes were on me as I began to deliver on my promise to them.
    I switched the small solar panel wheel from my right hand into my left hand, so my left hand held all three wheels. Then I tossed one of the small solar panel wheels in the air with my left hand. I caught it with my right, but as I was catching that wheel, I tossed the second wheel from my left hand into the air. A split second later, I tossed the third wheel.
    And just like that, I was juggling.

CHAPTER 27
    We did it. We made it back to the dome just in time.
    All of us worked together to fix the solar panels and give oxygen to the people who were on the verge of slipping away.
    I was right. Microscopic sand particles were the problem. It had taken years, but eventually the buildup of sand and the wearing down of the ball bearings had made the solar panel wheels drag just slightly—enough to throw off the panel angles. So now that the ball bearings have been fixed, there’s