"Very well, sir." The Iron Fley descended and walked toward him on six
of its legs, then squatted.
He stared at its back. Actually, it didn't have one; it was hollowed
out from the top, and in the hollow were--seats! Four of them!
Unable to mistake the meaning, he climbed in and sat down. Nothing
happened for a while. Then the creature began to buzz again. "Have you
forgotten the controls, sir? The lever on the left is for elevation;
the other one for horizontal motion. Would you prefer vocal control?"
"N-no, this is all right."
"Very good, sir." The buzz stopped.
The levers were just in front of him. Gingerly, he reached out and
gave the left-hand one a twitch, then yelled and let go of it as they
shot upward. They stopped, and he tried again gently. They rose more
smoothly.
He experimented with the other and moved forward, backward, and to the
sides. He lowered to a height where he was less frightened. "Er--Fley?"
"You spoke, sir?"
"I can go wherever I want?"
"Except into obvious danger, sir. I'm programmed to avoid that."
Alyar flew toward where he'd left his companions. They lay face down,
lamenting, Janee loudest of all. He eyed her posterior, and Bru's, with
some misgivings. The Fley's seats were a little skimpy.
He landed beside them, cleared his throat, and waited until they raised
dumfounded faces.
"Get in," he said.
* * * * *
Against feeble protests from the others, he maneuvered the creature
(which preferred to be called "Jeep") toward Iron Mountain. When they
were close Jeep woke up, buzzed, and hovered while a great doorway slid
open. It carried the four, clinging together, into the hollow blackness
within.
Then, quite suddenly--even though the door slid shut behind them--it
was light as day inside.
What a cave! Cylindrical, all of fifty man-lengths across, it slanted
down until it must reach far below ground. Far down there, where Jeep
was taking them, were some level platforms.
As soon as they settled on one, a terrible, huge, clanking monster,
also of non-rusting iron, flew toward them. They huddled while it
spoke. "Mr. Smith, sir, Roborepairunit seventeen reporting. Ship's
power and drive in order. Unable to complete hull repairs, or repair
other working and scouting units, without cannibalizing part of living
quarters. Do I have Mr. Smith's permission to proceed?"