A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part two

tell, though, they run off accumulators. Their feelers are magnificently

precise sensors–magnetic, electric, radionic, thermal, et cetera. They

have optical and audio systems as well. In fact, with one exception,

they’re such gorgeous engineering that it’s a semantic quibble whether

to call them robots or artificial animals.

“Same thing, essentially, for the flyers–which, by the way, I’m tempted

to call snapdragonflies. They get their lift from the wings and a VTOL

turbojet; they use beak and claws to rip rather than grind metal; but

they have sensors and computers akin to the bugs’. And they seem able to

act more independently, as you’d expect with a larger ‘brain.’ ”

He put away the last dish, settled back, and longed for a cigarette.

“What do you mean by ‘one exception’?” Djana asked.

“I can imagine a robotic ecology, based on self-reproducing solar-cell

units that’d perform the equivalent of photosynthesis,” Flandry said. “I

seem to recall it was actually experimented with once. But these things

we’ve met don’t have anything I can identify as being for nourishment,

repair, or reproduction. No doubt they have someplace to go for

replacement parts and energy recharges–someplace where new ones are

also manufactured–most likely the centrum area. But what about the

wrecked ones? There doesn’t seem to be any interest in reclaiming those

marvelous parts, or even the metal. It’s not an ecology, then; it’s

open-ended. Those machines have no purpose except destruction.”

He drew breath. “In spite of which,” he said, “I don’t believe they’re

meant for guarding this world or any such job. Because who save a

lunatic would build a fighting robot and omit guns?

“Somehow, Djana, Wayland’s come down with a plague of monsters. Until we

know how many of what kinds, I suggest we proceed on the assumption that

everything we meet will want to do us in.”

A few times in the course of the next several Terran days, the humans

concealed themselves when shapes passed by. These might be flyers

cruising far overhead, in one case stooping on some prey hidden by a

ridge. Or a pair of dog-sized, huge-jawed, sensor-bristling hunters

loped six-legged on a quest; or a bigger object,vhorned and

spike-tailed, rumbled on caterpillar treads along the bottom of a

ravine. Twice Flandry lay prone and watched combats: bugs swarming over

a walking red globe with lobsterish claws; a constrictor shape entangled

with a mobile battering ram. Both end results appeared to confirm his

deductions. The vanquished were left where they fell while the victors

resumed prowling. Remnants from earlier battles indicated the same

aftermath. Otherwise the journey was nothing but a struggle to make

distance. There was little opportunity while afoot, little wakefulness

while at rest, to think about the significance of what had been seen.

Nor did Flandry worry about encountering a killer. If it happened, it

happened. On the whole, he didn’t expect that kind of trouble … yet.

This was too vast and rugged a land for any likelihood of ft. Given due

caution, he and Djana ought to make their first objective. What occurred

after that might be a different story.

He did notice that the radio traffic got steadily thicker on the

nonstandard band the robots used. No surprise. He was nearing what had

been the center of operations, which must still be the center of

whatever the hell was going on nowadays.

Hell indeed, he thought through the dullness of the exhaustion. Did

somebody sabotage Wayland, maybe long ago, by installing a predator

factory? Or was it perhaps an accident? People may have fought

hereabouts, and I suppose a nearby explosion could derange the main

computer.

None of the guesses seemed reasonable. The beast machines couldn’t offer

effective opposition to modern weapons. They threatened the lives of two

marooned humans; but a single spacecraft, well-armed, well-equipped with

detectors, crew alerted to the situation, could probably annihilate them

with small difficulty. That fact ruled out sabotage–didn’t it? As for

damage to the ultimate control engine: Imprimis, it must have had heavy

shielding, plus extensive self-repair capability, the more so in view of

the meteorite hazard. Secundus, assuming it did sustain permanent harm,

that implied a loss of components; it would then scarcely be able to

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