Strange Highways

also puffed and mottled from the cold. It did not even shine in the torchlight, and yet ...
     ... yet ... obvious intelligence abided there. No doubt malevolent intelligence. Perhaps even maniacal. But intelligence nonetheless.
     Surprisingly, the monster spoke to Curanov. Its voice was deep, its language full of rounded, softened syllables, not at all like the clattering language the robots spoke to one another.
     Abruptly, the beast leaped forward, crying out, and swung a length of metal pipe at Curanov's neck.
     The robot danced backward out of range.
     The demon came forward.
     Curanov glanced at the others and saw that the first demon had backed Tuttle almost into the woods. A third had attacked Steffan, who was barely managing to hold his own.
     Screaming, the man before Curanov charged, plowed the end of the pipe into Curanov's chest.
     The robot fell hard.
     The man came in close, raising his bludgeon.
      Man thinks, though he's of flesh ... sleeps as an animal sleeps, devours other flesh, defecates, rots, dies .... He spawns his young in an unmechanical manner, although his young are sentient .... He kills ... he kills ... he overpowers robots, dismantles them, and does monstrous things (what?) with their parts .... He can be killed, permanently, only with a wooden implement ... and if killed in any other manner, he does not die a true death, but at once springs up elsewhere in a new body ....
     As the monster swung his club, Curanov rolled, rose, and struck out with his long-fingered hand.
     The man's face tore, gave blood.
     The demon stepped back, bewildered.
     Curanov's terror had changed into rage. He stepped forward and struck out again. And again. Flailing with all his reduced strength, he broke the demon's body, temporarily killed it, leaving the snow spattered with blood.
     Turning from his own assailant, he moved on the beast that was after Steffan. Clubbing it from behind, he broke its neck with one blow of his steel hand.
     By the time Curanov reached Tuttle and dispatched the third demon, Tuttle had sustained one totally demolished arm, another smashed hand, and damage to the ring cable that, luckily, had not terminated him. With any luck, the three robots would survive.
     "I thought I was finished," Tuttle said.
     Dazed, Steffan said to Curanov, "You killed all three of them!"
     "They would have terminated us," Curanov said. Inside, where they could not see, he was in turmoil.
     Steffan said, "But the prime directive from the Central Agency forbids the taking of life-"
     "Not quite," Curanov disagreed. "It forbids the taking of life which cannot be restored. Which cannot be restored."
     "These lives will be restored?" Steffan asked, looking at the hideous corpses, unable to understand.
     "You've seen human beings now," Curanov said. "Do you believe the myths - or do you still scoff?"
     "How can I scoff?"
     "Then," Curanov said, "if you believe that such demons exist, you must believe what else is said of them." He quoted his own store of data on the subject: "If killed in any other way, by any means other than wood, the man will only appear to be dead. In reality, the moment he drops before his assailant, he springs at once to life elsewhere, unharmed, in a new body."
     Steffan nodded, unwilling to argue the point.
     Tuttle said, "What now?"
     "We continue back to Walker's Watch," Curanov said.
     "And tell them what we found?"
     "No."
     "But," Tuttle said, "we can lead them back here, show them these carcasses."
     "Look around you," Curanov said. "Other demons are watching from the trees."
     A dozen hateful white faces could be seen, leering.
     Curanov said, "I don't think they'll attack us again. They've seen what we can do, how we have learned that, with them, the prime directive does not apply. But they're sure to remove and bury the bodies when we've gone."
     "We can take a carcass along with us," Tuttle said.
     Curanov said, "No. Both of your hands are useless. Steffan's right arm is uncontrollable. I couldn't carry one of those bodies all by myself as far as Walker's Watch, not with my power as reduced as it is."
     "Then," Tuttle said, "we still won't tell anyone about what we've seen up