“Put down that gun,” said Jennings for the third time.
And then 9009 knew.
He stooped, laid down the gun upon the ground, and snatched at his waist-band. He rose to a crouch, to full height, and his right arm, unfolding, continued the upward movement. He stood thus a moment, motionless, straight, shoulders back, head back, right hand high in air. Then Jennings, bending, rushed forward, and 9009 sprang upon him.
He sprang high, leap-frog fashion; his left hand snapped down Jennings’s lowered head with a jerk, and now the other hand, still high in air, whistled down, It sank into the guard’s back with a crunch. It rose, fell, rose, fell, rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell in a rapid crescendo of pumping movement, crunching into the heap beneath long after it had become limp.
Then 9009, springing lithely to his feet, flung the file-knife from him in a wide gesture, and picking up his rifle, strode for the wall.
