With a series of grinding shocks, like an enormous earthquake-fault
relieving a strain, the Pyramids began to fight back.
"Tropile!" the Alla-Narova mind called urgently.
Tropile flashed to the trouble spot. Through eyes that were not his
own, Tropile scanned the honeycombed world of the Pyramids. There was
an area where huge and ancient vehicles lay covered with the slow dust
of centuries, and the vehicles were beginning to move.
Caterpillar-treaded hauling machines were loading themselves with what
Tropile judged were quickly synthesized explosives. Almost forgotten
wheeled vehicles were creeping mindlessly out of nearly abandoned
storage sections and lumbering painfully along the tunnels of the
planet.
"Coming toward us," Tropile diagnosed dispassionately.