by Carol
And Two, struck by the suggestion, answered, “You know, One, I think you’re right!”
There had been a slight lull in Jovian activity and now a new structure was brought up. It possessed a slender rod that pointed skyward through the impenetrable Jovian murk. It stood in that starkly incredible wind with a rigidity that plainly indicated remarkable structural strength. From its tip came a cracking and then a flash that lit up the depths of the atmosphere into a gray fog.
For a moment the robots were bathed in clinging radiance and then Three said thoughtfully, “High-tension electricity! Quite respectable power, too. One, I think you’re right. After all, the human masters have told us that these creatures seek to destroy all humanity, and organisms possessing such insane viciousness as to harbor a thought of harm against a human being”—his voice trembled at the thought—“would scarcely scruple at attempting to destroy us.”
“It’s a shame to have such distorted minds,” said ZZ One. “Poor fellows!”
“I find it a very saddening thought,” admitted Two.
“Let’s go back to the ship. We’ve seen enough for now.”
They did so, and settled down to wait. As ZZ Three said, Jupiter was a roomy planet, and it might take time for Jovian transportation to bring a radio code expert to the ship. However, patience is a cheap commodity to robots.
As a matter of fact, Jupiter turned on its axis three times, according to chronometer, before the expert arrived. The rising and setting of the sun made no difference, of course, to the dead darkness at the bottom of three thousand miles of liquid-dense gas, so that one could not speak of day and night. But then, neither Jovian nor robot saw by visible light radiation and that didn’t matter.
Through this thirty-hour interval the surrounding Jovians continued their attack with a patience and persevering relentlessness concerning which robot ZZ One made a good many mental notes. The. ship was assaulted by as many varieties of forces as there were hours, and the robots observed every attack attentively, analyzing such weapons as they recognized. They by no means recognized all.
But the human masters had built well. It had taken fifteen years to construct the ship and the robots, and their essentials could be expressed in a single phrase—raw strength. The attack spent itself uselessly and neither ship nor robot seemed the worse for it.
Three said, “This atmosphere handicaps them, I think. They can’t use atomic disruptors, since they would only tear a hole in that soupy air and blow themselves up.”
“They haven’t used high explosives either,” said Two, “which is well. They couldn’t have hurt us, naturally, but it would have thrown us about a bit.”
“High explosives are out of the question. You can’t have an explosive without gas expansion and gas just can’t expand in this atmosphere.”
“It’s a very good atmosphere,” muttered One. “I like it.”
Which was natural, because he was built for it. The ZZ robots were the first robots ever turned out by the United States Robots and Mechanical Men Corporation that were not even faintly human in appearance. They were low and squat, with a center of gravity less than a foot above ground level. They had six legs apiece, stumpy and thick, designed to lift tons against two and a half times normal Earth gravity. Their reflexes were that many times Earth-normal speed, to make up for the gravity. And they were composed of a beryllium-iridium-bronze alloy that was proof against any known corrosive agent, also any known destructive agent short of a thousand-megaton atomic disruptor, under any conditions whatsoever.
To dispense with further description, they were indestructible, and so impressively powerful that they were the only robots ever built on whom the roboticists of the corporation had never quite had the nerve to pin a serial-number nickname. One bright young fellow had suggested Sissy One, Two, and Three—but not in a very loud voice, and the suggestion was never repeated.
The last hours of the wait were spent in a puzzled discussion to find a possible description of a Jovian’s appearance. ZZ One had made a note of their possession of tentacles and of their radial symmetry—and there he had stuck. Two and Three did their best, but couldn’t help.
“You can’t very well describe anything,” Three declared finally, “without a standard of reference. These creatures are like nothing 1 know of—completely outside the positronic paths of my brain. It’s like trying to describe gamma light to a robot unequipped for gamma-ray reception.”
It was just at that time that the weapon barrage ceased once more. The robots turned their attention to outside the ship.
A group of Jovians were advancing in curiously uneven fashion, but no amount of careful watching could determine the exact method of their locomotion. How they used their tentacles was uncertain. At times the organisms took on a remarkable slithering motion, and then they moved at great speed, perhaps with the wind’s help, for they were moving downwind.
The robots stepped out to meet the Jovians, who halted ten feet away. Both sides remained silent and motionless.
ZZ Two said, “They must be watching us, but I don’t know how. Do either of you see any photosensitive organs?”
“I can’t say,” grunted Three in response. “I don’t see anything about them that makes sense at all.”
There was a sudden metallic clicking from among the Jovian group and ZZ One said delightedly, “It’s the radio code. They’ve got the communications expert here.”
It was, and they had. The complicated dot-dash system that over a period of twenty-five years had been laboriously developed by the beings of Jupiter and the Earthmen of Ganymede into a remarkably flexible means of communication was finally being put into practice at close range.
One Jovian remained in the forefront now, the others having fallen back. It was he that was speaking. The clicking said, “Where are you from?”
ZZ Three, as the most mentally advanced, naturally assumed spokesmanship for the robot group. “We are from Jupiter’s satellite, Ganymede.”
The Jovian continued, “What do you want?”
“Information. We have come to study your world and to bring back our findings. If we could have your cooperation—”
The Jovian clicking interrupted. “You must be destroyed!”
ZZ Three paused and said in a thoughtful aside to his two companions, “Exactly the attitude the human masters said they would take. They are very unusual.”
Returning to his clicking, he asked simply, “Why?”
The Jovian evidently considered certain questions too obnoxious to be answered. He said, “If you leave within a single period of revolution, we will spare you—until such time as we emerge from our world to destroy the unJovian vermin of Ganymede.”
“I would like to point out,” said Three, “that we of Ganymede and the inner planets—”
The Jovian interrupted, “Our astronomy knows of the Sun and of our four satellites. There are no inner planets.”
Three conceded the point wearily, “We of Ganymede, then. We have no designs on Jupiter. We’re prepared to offer friendship. For twenty-five years your people communicated freely with the human beings of Ganymede. Is there any reason to make sudden war upon the humans?”
“For twenty-five years,” was the cold response, “we assumed the inhabitants of Ganymede to be Jovians. When we found out they were not, and that we had been treating lower animals on the scale of Jovian intelligences, we were bound to take steps to wipe out the dishonor.”
Slowly and forcefully he finished, “We of Jupiter will suffer the existence of no vermin!”
The Jovian was backing away in some fashion, tacking against the wind, and the interview was evidently over.
The robots retreated inside the ship.
ZZ Two said, “It looks bad, doesn’t it?” He continued thoughtfully, “It is as the human masters said. They possess an ultimately developed superiority complex, combined with an extreme intolerance for anyone or anything that disturbs that complex.”
“The int
olerance,” observed Three, “is the natural consequence of the complex. The trouble is that their intolerance has teeth in it. They have weapons—and their science is great.”
“I am not surprised now,” burst out ZZ One, “that we were specifically instructed to disregard Jovian orders. They are horrible, intolerant, pseudo-superior beings!” He added emphatically, with robotical loyalty and faith, “No human master could ever be like that.”
’That, though true, is beside the point,” said Three. The fact remains that the human masters are in terrible danger. This is a gigantic world and these Jovians are greater in numbers and resources by a hundred times or more than the humans of the entire Terrestrial Empire. If they can ever develop the force field to the point where they can use it as a spaceship hull—as the human masters have already done—they will overrun the system at will. The question remains as to how far they have advanced in that direction, what other weapons they have, what preparations they are making, and so on. To return with that information is our function, of course, and we had better decide on our next step.”
“It may be difficult,” said Two. “The Jovians won’t help us.” Which, at the moment, was rather an understatement.
Three thought awhile. “It seems to me that we need only wait,” he observed. “They have tried to destroy us for thirty hours now and haven’t succeeded. Certainly they have done their best. Now a superiority complex always involves the eternal necessity of saving face, and the ultimatum given us proves it in this case. They would never allow us to leave if they could destroy us. But if we don’t leave, then rather than admit they cannot force us away, they will surely pretend that they are willing, for their own purposes, to have us stay.”
Once again they waited. The day passed. The weapon barrage did not resume. The robots did not leave. The bluff was called. And now the robots faced the Jovian radio-code expert once again.
If the ZZ models had been equipped with a sense of humor, they would have enjoyed themselves immensely. As it was, they felt merely a solemn sense of satisfaction.
The Jovian said, “It has been our decision that you will be allowed to remain for a very short time, so that you see our power for yourself. You shall then return to Ganymede to inform your companion vermin of the disastrous end to which they will unfailingly come within a solar revolution.”
ZZ One made a mental note that a Jovian revolution took twelve earthly years.
Three replied casually, “Thank you. May we accompany you to the nearest town? There are many things wc would like to learn.” He added as an afterthought, “Our ship is not to be touched, of course.”
He said this as a request, not as a threat, for no ZZ model was ever pugnacious. All capacity for even the slightest annoyance had been carefully barred in their construction. With robots as vastly powerful as the ZZ’s, unfailing good temper was essential for safety during the years of testing on Earth.
The Jovian said, “We are not interested in your verminous ship. No Jovian will pollute himself by approaching it. You may accompany us, but you must on no account approach closer than ten feet to any Jovian, or you will be instantly destroyed.”
“Stuck up, aren’t they?” observed Two in a genial whisper, as they plowed into the wind.
The town was a port on the shores of an incredible ammonia lake. The external wind whipped furious, frothy waves that shot across the liquid surface at the hectic rate enforced by the gravity. The port itself was neither large nor impressive and it seemed fairly evident that most of the construction was underground.
“What is the population of this place?” asked Three.
The Jovian replied, “It is a small town of ten million.”
“I see. Make a note of that, One.”
ZZ One did so mechanically, and then turned once more to the lake, at which he had been staring in fascination. He pulled at Three’s elbow. “Say, do you suppose they have fish here?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I think we ought to know. The human masters ordered us to find out everything we could.” Of the robots, One was the simplest and, consequently, the one who took orders in the most literal fashion.
Two said, “Let One go and look if he likes. It won’t do any harm if we let the kid have his fun.”
“All right. There’s no real objection if he doesn’t waste his time. Fish aren’t what we came for—but go ahead, One.”
ZZ One made off in great excitement and slogged rapidly down the beach, plunging into the ammonia with a splash. The Jovians watched attentively. They had understood none of the previous conversation, of course.
The radio code expert clicked out, “It is apparent that your companion has decided to abandon life in despair at our greatness.”
Three said in surprise, “Nothing of the sort. He wants to investigate the living organisms, if any, that live in the ammonia.” He added apologetically, “Our friend is very curious at times, and he isn’t quite as bright as we are, though that is his misfortune. We understand that and try to humor him whenever we can.”
There was a long pause, and the Jovian observed, “He will drown.”
Three replied casually, “No danger of that. We don’t drown. May we enter the town as soon as he returns?”
At that moment there was a spurt of liquid several hundred feet out in the lake. It sprayed upward wildly and then hurtled down in a wind-driven mist. Another spurt and another, then a wild white foaming that formed a trail toward shore, gradually quieting as it approached.
The two robots watched this in amazement, and the utter lack of motion on the part of the Jovians indicated that they were watching as well.
Then the head of ZZ One broke the surface and he made his slow way out on to dry land. But something followed him! Some organism of gigantic size that seemed nothing but fangs, claws, and spines. Then they saw that it wasn’t following him under its own power, but was being dragged across the beach by ZZ One. There was a significant flabbiness about it.
ZZ One approached rather timidly and took communication into his own hands. He tapped out a message for the Jovian in agitated fashion. “I am very sorry this happened, but the thing attacked me. I was merely taking notes on it. It is not a valuable creature, I hope.”
He was not answered immediately, for at the first appearance of the monster there had been a wild break in the Jovian ranks. These reformed slowly, and cautious observation having proven the creature to be indeed dead, order was restored. Some of the bolder were curiously prodding the body.
ZZ Three said humbly, “I hope you will pardon our friend. He is sometimes clumsy. We have absolutely no intention of harming any Jovian creature.”
“He attacked me,” explained One. “He bit at me without provocation. See!” And he displayed a two-foot fang that ended in a jagged break. “He broke it on my shoulder and almost left a scratch. I just slapped it a bit to send it away—and it died. I’m sorry!”
The Jovian finally spoke, and his code clicking was a rather stuttery affair. “It is a wild creature, rarely found so close to shore, but the lake is deep just here.” Three said, still anxiously, “If you can use it for food, we are only too glad—”
“No. We can get food for ourselves without the help of verm—without the help of others. Eat it yourselves.” At that ZZ One heaved the creature up and back into the sea, with an easy motion of one arm. Three said casually, “Thank you for your kind offer, but we have no use for food. We don’t eat, of course.”
Escorted by two hundred or so armed Jovians, the robots passed down a series of ramps into the underground city. If, above the surface, the city had looked small and unimpressive, then from beneath it took on the appearance of a vast megalopolis.
They were ushered into ground cars that were operated by remote control—for no honest, self-respecting Jovian would risk his superiority by placing himself in the same car with vermin—and driven at frightful speed to the center of the town. They saw enough to decide that it extend
ed fifty miles from end to end and reached downward into Jupiter’s crust at least eight miles.
ZZ Two did not sound happy as he said, “If this is a sample of Jovian development then we shall not have a hopeful report to bring back to the human masters. After all, we landed on the vast surface of Jupiter at random, with the chances a thousand to one against coming near any really concentrated center of population. This must be, as the code expert says, a mere town.”
“Ten million Jovians,” said Three abstractedly. ’Total population must be in the trillions, which is high, very high, even for Jupiter. They probably have a completely urban civilization, which means that their scientific development must be tremendous. If they have force fields—”
Three had no neck, for in the interest of strength the heads of the ZZ models were riveted firmly onto the torso, with the delicate positronic brains protected by three separate layers in inch-thick iridium alloy. But if he had had one, he would have shaken his head dolefully.
They had stopped now in a cleared space. Everywhere about them they could see avenues and structures crowded with Jovians, as curious as any terrestrial crowd would have been in similar circumstances.
The code expert approached. “It is time now for me to retire until the next period of activity. We have gone so far as to arrange quarters for you at great inconvenience to ourselves for, of course, the structure will have to be pulled down and rebuilt afterward. Nevertheless, you will be allowed to sleep for a space.”
ZZ Three waved an arm in deprecation and tapped out, “We thank you but you must not trouble yourself. We don’t mind remaining right here. If you want to sleep and rest, by all means do. We’ll wait for you. As for us,” casually, “we don’t sleep.”
The Jovian said nothing, though if it had had a face, the expression upon it might have been interesting. It left, and the robots remained in the car, with squads of well-armed Jovians, frequently replaced, surrounding them as guards.
