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drive has a short antenna plug-in at the back of the pole to give and take X-ray signals.
    The robot is amazing. It has heat sensors that detect infrared, so I can see in total darkness. The video lenses’ telescoping is powerful enough that I can recognize a person’s face from five miles away. But I can zoom in close on something nearby and look at it as if using a microscope.
    I can amplify hearing and pick up sounds at higher and lower levels than human hearing. The fibers wired into the titanium let me feel dust falling, if I want to concentrate on that minute of a level. The fibers also let me speak easily, just as if I were using a microphone.
    The robot can’t smell or taste, however. But one of the fingers is wired to perform material testing. All I need are a few specks of the material, and this finger will heat up, burn the material, and analyze the contents.
    The robot is strong too. The titanium hands can grip a steel bar and bend it.
    Did I mention it’s fast? Its wheels will move three times faster than any human can sprint. But this morning, I had nowhere to go. My job was very simple. Fix a tire.
    Rawling had placed a communications radio just outside the dome of the platform buggy. I saw him lift his radio to his mouth. Instantly, my radio speaker rumbled with his voice.
    â€œTyce, check the tire to see if the leak is obvious.”
    I rolled over to the collapsed tire and scanned it with my video lens. “Nothing unusual,” I reported in my robot voice. “Can you roll the platform buggy ahead?”
    Moments later, it rolled forward in a lopsided way.
    Immediately, as the part of the tire that had been resting on the ground came into view, I saw the reason for the screeching sound.
    As Rawling had guessed, a long, narrow piece of lava rock stuck from the tire. In fact, it stuck out so far that it scraped the underside of the platform deck each time the tire rolled over.
    â€œGot it!” I said.
    I explained what I saw.
    With lots of instruction from Rawling, the strong robot hands and arms, and all the right equipment, I was able to seal the leak and refill the tire with compressed carbon dioxide.
    It was a simple, routine piece of work.
    The only unusual thing about it was a small gray box. I noticed it was attached to the axle of the wheel. I wondered if it was part of the GPS, because it had some wires sticking out, like communications antennae.
    I loaded the robot body and raised the cage off the ground so the robot would hang and swing in safety. Then I gave the stop command to disengage from the computer program that controlled the robot.
    From the bed inside the platform buggy’s minidome, I calmly told Rawling I was ready to be unstrapped.
    Seconds later, someone took off my headset and my blindfold.
    It wasn’t Rawling. It was Dad.
    Rawling was at the base radio. Talking.
    And when I heard what he said, I forgot all about that small gray plastic box beneath the platform deck.

CHAPTER 13
    â€œBlaine Steven has taken control of the dome?” I heard Rawling say, disbelief in his voice. “He has no authority to do that!”
    Blaine Steven? Ex-director? But he was under guard until the next spaceship left Mars to take him to Earth.
    â€œSir,” the communications techie said, “half an hour ago, we received a transmission from Earth. It has the proper electronic identification code that identifies it as a Science Agency message. It granted Blaine Steven full directorship in your absence. It—”
    Sudden silence.
    â€œPlatform one to main base,” Rawling said, trying to get the communications techie back. “Platform one to main base.”
    â€œDr. McTigre.” The sound of the radio communications was tinny, but I still recognized the new voice. Blaine Steven. He’d lost his position over a month ago because of how he’d mishandled an oxygen level zero situation that nearly killed 180 people under the dome. And now