Bill 2 - on the Planet of Robot Slaves by Harry Harrison Page A

Zots,” Meta said. “We have our own food supplies with us. All we need is the stuff we were carrying — and a bare plot of ground.”
    “Simplicity itself and I have just so ordered. By radio signal of course. Relax and refresh yourselves and you will be summoned after I have conferred with my advisers.”
    “Seems like a nice place,” Wurber said as they followed their wheeled guide through the riveted corridors. “Gosh we were lucky...”
    “Shut up, you microcephalic moron,” Praktis implied. “You drivel on without a drop of any intelligent thought ever troubling your clogged synapses. Don't you see the scientific wonders all about you? No, obviously not. But I do! I will write papers, publish books, be galaxy famous!”
    “And get promoted in the navy too,” Bill said sycophantically. “When you get all these machines fighting against the Chingers it will mean advances in your military career.”
    “The only promotion I want is back to civvy street and, yes, this might just do it.”
    “These are — your quarters —” their guide said in a very metallic voice, throwing open the door to a large room. It was barren of decorations or furnishings, other than the large hooks on the walls. Their bellboy indicated these with one of its tentacles. “You may hang yourselves from these hooks at night.”
    “Thanks a lot, Shiny,” Meta sniffed. “But we have better ways to hang about at night. What about the patch of ground we asked for?”
    “Provided. Walk this way please.”
    “If I walked that way I would need crutches.”
    She followed the machine through another door and out into a courtyard. “Looks great.” She stamped on the bare soil, turned and called out. “Bring one of those melonsteak seeds. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut. Awwwrk!”
    “Awwwrk? What does that suppose to mean?” Praktis asked, turning towards the door just in time to see the sand boiling around her legs.
    “Awwwrk!” he said himself. Then popped his eyes as she sank into the ground and vanished from sight.
    “Help will be here soon,” the guide machine said, extending an arm with an electronic eye on its tip to look into the hole.
    It was right, too. The outer door burst open and Wurber was knocked to the floor by a torpedo-shaped machine that whizzed in on rows of little wheels. It nose-dived head first into the hole and vanished as quickly as Meta had done.
    “What happened to Meta?” Bill asked, running into the courtyard.
    “Beats me. The ground just opened up and she went down into it, zingo.”
    “I am getting reports now,” Zots said as he entered the room. Still lounging on his gold lounger, now carried by six little carrying machines. “The tunnel is quite long and extends out under the outer wall. As far as the foothills. Ahh, yes. It emerges into a pleasant sunlit valley where your companion is being loaded onto a flying dragon. Our machine has been seen...”
    Zots's throat was rasping and he took a quick slug of oil. “And that is it for the moment. The machine has been destroyed. I have dispatched warrior machines but I am afraid they are already too late. The lookouts report a dragon departing at great speed.”
    “Don't tell me — in the direction of the mountains,” Praktis sneered. “Does your hospitality always include kidnapping?”
    “I am mortified, dear guests, believe me. I am so dishonored that if I had an electric drill handy I would commit seppuku. But perhaps my presence alive is better than dead for I shall organize pursuit and rescue. A combat machine is on the way here even as I speak. Might I suggest that one of your number accompany it to advise on matters fleshly in obtaining the freedom of the captive? Do we have a volunteer?”
    There was a quick shuffle as they all moved back.
    “I'm a garbage tug commander.”
    “I just got drafted, right off the farm.”
    “Electronics only — I never learned to shoot a gun.”
    “Rank, admiral. Occupation, scientist. Which