think? It takes a long while to heat things up again after half a month
of night. But not after two hours. And evaporation goes fast at low
pressures. What I saw from space, and assumed were lingering ground
hazes, were clouds higher up, like those I see steaming away above us–
That was at the back of his brain. Most of him saw what surrounded him.
The blaster sprang into his hand.
Though the mountain was not far behind, soaring from a knife-edge
boundary, he and Djana had passed by the nearest radio mast and were
down on the plain. Like other Waylander maria, it was not perfectly
level; it rolled, reared in scattered needles and minor craters, seamed
itself with narrow cracks, was bestrewn with rocks and overlaid in
places by ice banks. The travelers had entered the section that was
marked into squares. More than a kilometer apart, the lines ran arrow
straight, east and west, north and south, further than he cpuld see
before curvature shut off vision. He happened to be near one and could
identify it as a wide streak of Black granules driven permanently into
the stone.
What he truly saw in that moment was the robots.
A hundred meters to his right went three of the six-legged lopers.
Somewhat further off on his left rolled a horned and treaded giant.
Still further ahead, but not too far to catch him, straggled half a
dozen different monstrosities. Bugs by the score leaped and crawled
across the ground. Flyers were slanting down the sky. He threw a look to
rear and saw retreat cut off by a set of legs upbearing a circular saw.
Djana cast herself on her knees. Flandry crouched above, teeth skinned,
and waited in the racket of his heart for the first assailant.
There was none.
The killers ignored them.
Nor did they pay attention to each other.
While not totally unexpected, the relief sent Flandry’s mind whirling.
When he had recovered, he saw that the machines were converging on a
point. Nothing appeared above the horizon; their goal was too distant.
He knew what it was, though–the central complex of buildings.
Djana began to laugh, wilder and wilder. Flandry didn’t think they could
afford hysteria. He hauled her to her feet. “Turn off that braying
before I shake it out of you!” When words didn’t work, he took her by
her ankles, held her upside down, and made his threat good.
While she sobbed and gulped and wrestled her way back to control, he
held her in a more gentle embrace and studied the robots across her
shoulder. Most were in poor shape, holes torn in their skins, limbs
missing. No wonder he’d heard them rattle and clank in the fog.
Some looked unhurt aside from minor scratches and dents. Probably their
accumulators were about drained.
In the end, he could explain to her: “I always figured those which
survived the battles would get recharge and repair in this area. Um-m-m
… it can’t well serve all Wayland … I daresay the critters never
wander extremely far from it … and we did spot construction work, the
setup’s being steadily expanded, probably new centers are planned …
Anyhow, this place is trucial. Elsewhere, they’re programmed to attack
anything that moves and isn’t like their own particular breed. Here,
they’re perfect lambs. Or so goes my current guess.”
“W-we’re safe, then?”
“I wouldn’t swear to that. What’s caused this whole insanity? But I do
think we can proceed.”
“Where to?”
“The centrum, of course. Giving those fellows a respectful berth. They
seem to be headed offside. I imagine their R & R stations lie some ways
from the main computer’s old location.”
“Old?”
“We don’t know if it exists any longer,” Flandry reminded her.
Nonetheless he walked with ebullience. He was still alive. How marvelous
that his arms swung, his heels smote ground, his lungs inhaled, his
unwashed scalp itched! Regin had begun to wax, the thinnest of bows
drawing back from Mimir’s incandescent arrowpoint. Elsewhere glittered
stars. Djana walked silent, exhausted by emotion. She’d recover, and
when he got her back inside the sealtent …
He was actually whistling as they crossed the next line. A moment later