Norby tnc-2

by Isaac Asimov

"Jeff always wanted a kitten," said Fargo, "but this is ridiculous. That lion has finished the chicken and I'm pretty sure he considers it only an appetizer with ourselves as the main course."

  The lion gave a cursory lick to its paws, licked its lips on either side with a huge, pink tongue, and then growled. It eyed the four human beings with what seemed to be unsatisfied hunger and aggressive ideas. It rose to its feet and snarled.

  Jeff said, "Fargo, do we still have those sedative pills you bought when the family shipping business went bankrupt and you thought you wouldn't sleep well? You never took them, but maybe the lion…"

  Fargo lifted his finger. "Good idea. They should still be in the kitchen behind the matchbox we never used till you got a pet robot that plays with kitchen computers."

  Jeff kicked Norby. "Stick out your head and legs and go find those pills or I'll tell the admiral to take away your honorary cadethood."

  "You wouldn't," said Norby.

  "Oh, wouldn't I? Try me-and bring the meatloaf, too."

  Norby's appendages and head popped out of his barrel and he ran into the kitchen in the kind of partial antigrav mode that allowed him to take long strides. He came back almost at once with the pills and with the meatloaf in its glass container.

  Jeff stuffed the pills into the meatloaf while Yobo made small lunges with the chair legs at the advancing lion, who growled louder. Albany was speaking softly into her wrist phone.

  She said, "The Central Park Greater Zoo says it has no room for another lion and it's against the law for us to have one in an apartment in the first place. We could get into a lot of trouble."

  "The lion's been telling us that for quite a while," said Yobo, shoving the lion back a step.

  "The Bronx Zoo will take one, if we can present a certificate of ownership. I don't suppose Jeff has one," she finished.

  "Not lately," said Jeff, swinging the meatloaf.

  "But I've called for an antigrav squad car to come up to the windows here."

  "Better than nothing," said Jeff, and let go of the meatloaf, which hit the lion in the muzzle.

  Fargo said indignantly, "Must I start my vacation by letting you throw the only other dinner we possess to the lions?"

  Yobo said, "That doesn't matter. I don't eat red meat. Cadet, did you put the sedative pills into that meatloaf?"

  "All of them, Admiral," said Jeff.

  "Good. Then it shouldn't be long."

  Yobo sat down and began to eat vegetables while the lion finished the meatloaf. "Vegetarianism is good for you," he announced. "Have some."

  "Have some what, honored Admiral?" asked Fargo, with exaggerated politeness. "You're eating it all. Besides, I don't believe that the lion will be put to sleep. Those were pretty old pills and I never tested them."

  "There's the squad car," said Albany. "Fully automated. Nobody in the precinct was keen on riding with a lion. "

  The lion yawned, displaying all of its large, efficient-looking teeth.

  Four humans, an automated police car, and a guilty robot waited impatiently for the lion to decide to go to sleep.

  "I'm sorry, Jeff," said Norby after awhile. "I suppose it is my fault. I got mixed up."

  "That's apparently his specialty, little brother," said Fargo. "When McGillicuddy mixed up his insides, he mixed up Norby." Fargo turned to the robot. "How did you come to think it was a good idea to bring a lion home from the zoo, Norby?"

  "It jumped on me, Fargo, and tossed me around as if I were a beach ball! Then it took a grip on me with its paws and I thought that if I went back into hyperspace that would scare it loose, but it didn't. It was too stupid to be scared and it must have held on to me because when I was back in the apartment, it was here, too."

  "But where was this zoo, and why did you go there?" asked Fargo.

  "It's a long story," said Norby.

  The robot turned to Jeff, who came to his defense immediately. "He's too upset to explain clearly, Fargo. It was just some zoo in Europe or somewhere."

  "In Europe," said Norby at once. "That's right."

  The lion's head sank to its paws. It snored loudly and distracted Fargo, who shook both fists in the air and said, "See? You don't need a gun; just a few pills."

  "And someone to think of the pills," grumbled Jeff under his breath.

  Yobo had finished the vegetables and began on the large cake Jeff had bought for dessert. "I trust, Cadet, that you will think of a way to get the beast over to the police car, because I do not intend to help lift it. I'm wearing my dress uniform and I'm convinced that animal has fleas."

  Albany marched toward the lion with a determined look on her face, but Fargo stopped her. He said, "You have your dress uniform on, too, and that beast must weigh 300 kilograms. It's a man's job. Jeff and I…"

  Albany was promptly offended. "What do you mean 'a man's job?' I'm as strong as you are, and Jeff is a boy."

  "Jeff may be a boy," Jeff said, "but he believes in thinking out a problem and not just slam-banging into it. That's what Fargo always said I should do. So it's up to Norby."

  "I don't want to pick him up," Norby said.

  "I don't care whether you want to or not. You just follow orders. Put your arms under that lion and intensify your antigrav and put him into the police car."

  "But Jeff, the lion is smelly and it has fleas."

  "Fleas aren't going to bother you, and I never heard you complain about smells before."

  "It may be sleeping lightly. It may wake up."

  "Norby, all this is your fault in the first place, and you're the one who's equipped to deal with the problem. I'm giving you a logical order, and I order you to obey it."

  "Oh, very well," said Norby, going to the lion.

  "I'll never get used to your robot," said Yobo. "There isn't another one like it in the Federation."

  "You mean sassy and rebellious?" asked Fargo.

  "I mean intelligent and emotional," said Yobo. There was no smile on his broad, high cheek-boned face. "It's amazing that only the Inventors Union is after him. We should all be. I imagine that if we can find out how he works, everyone will want a Norby instead of the stupid, dutiful machines the Federation allows."

  "Nobody would want a mixed-up robot," said Fargo with a shrug.

  "I don't know about that," said Albany. "I think he's cute."

  Norby winked one of his back eyes at her, wrapped his arms around the lion, and elevated. The lion opened one eye, growled, and began to struggle.

  "Hold him!" shouted Jeff, running to help.

  "I'm managing," said Norby. "You wanted me to do it myself and I'm going to do it. I'll show you…" He was balancing the sleepily struggling lion on the window sill. "This stupid life form is scratching my barrel. "

  "Don't drop him to the sidewalk!" yelled Jeff. "Stupid or not, it is a life form. Put him in the car safely."

  "All done," said Norby, stepping back from the window. The door of the police car shut, and Jeff could see the astonished and groggy lion inside.

  Albany spoke into her wrist radio and the car flew off. "Okay. The car will take the lion to the Bronx Zoo, where keepers are ready to take it into temporary custody pending determination of ownership."

  "Are we going to get fined?" asked Jeff.

  "Not likely," said Albany. "They haven't forgotten how we rescued Manhattan from Ing the Ingrate, so it will be easy to fix things up. Besides, the admiral can use his influence."

  "No, I won't," said Yobo. "You leave me out of your report. I don't want your Manhattan authorities to know I'm here. My problem is with Norby, not with the lion."

  Norby jiggled up and down on his legs. "I'm Jeff's problem, no one else's.

  "Unfortunately," said Yobo. "You're everyone's problem. The Inventors Union wants to investigate you scientifically."

  "You mean, tear me apart?" squeaked Norby at the highest pitch of his voice range. "Eviscerate my insides? Tangle my circuits? Electrocute my electronics? Spoil my beautiful appearance? I'll disappear and never com
e back, that's what I'll do."

  "No, you won't," said Jeff, "because I'm not going to let anyone do anything to you."

  "It's a family matter," said Fargo. "I'm Jeff's guardian and legally responsible for anything he owns. We'll sue…"

  "Don't bet on getting the chance," said Yobo, drily. "I think it would make sense to have a serious discussion on how to handle the obvious necessity of doing something about Norby."

  "I'm hungry," said Albany, tossing back her long, blond hair.

  "Unfortunately," said Fargo, "there's nothing to eat. What the lion didn't devour, the admiral did, so we'll have to go to one of the neighborhood restaurants. If you'll cover up that uniform of yours, Admiral, you can come disguised as an ordinary citizen. If we can get a shielded booth, we can talk privately there, out of reach of the Inventors Union."

  The admiral had no chance to respond because there was a thunderous knocking on the apartment door and a loud call that drowned out any announcement the door computer might have tried to make.

  "Open up! Federation security officers!"

  Fargo went to the door and leaned nonchalantly against it. "My lady love and I are here and we don't want company. Go away!"

  "We have a Federation warrant to confiscate your robot on behalf of the Inventors Union. Open up, or we'll break down the door."

  There was another violent knock.

  "Go to the bedroom," whispered Yobo to Jeff, "and I suggest you both go on a little trip now…

  "Yes, sir," said Jeff. He added quickly, "If I don't get back right away, Fargo, please go on vacation in our scoutship. We can join you because Norby can tune into your ship with his space-location sense."

  "Sure I can," said Norby. There was a short pause while Norby's eyes blinked. "I think."

  "We'll be sunk if we have to depend on Norby," Fargo said.

  Norby squawked incoherently at that, but the admiral pointed imperiously toward the bedroom as the banging on the door grew more forceful.

  Jeff and Norby dashed into the bedroom. Norby grabbed Jeff's hand, "Ready?"

  Jeff nodded. He was thinking. It's a good thing they don't know Norby's secret that he can vanish into hyperspace without special equipment, or they wouldn't have announced what they were here for.

  Just before they disappeared, Jeff and Norby heard Albany say, "Oh, hello, men. Do have this small left-over piece of cake."

  The grayness of hyperspace swallowed Jeff and Norby.

  3. Jamya

  Norby's personal protective field came on automatically to save them from lethal stress of hyperspace, so Jeff was aware only of gray nothingness. And, since time does not exist in hyperspace, he was no sooner aware of it when he was out of it again, with only a vague memory that Norby had been trying to explain-telepathically-how he had got into the bad zoo.

  "Where are we?" asked Jeff. They were sitting on a grassy lawn, facing interesting treelike plants that seemed familiar.

  "You again!"

  The voice was not speaking in Terran Basic, but Jeff understood, and Norby was already answering in the alien language. Nobody had the advantage of having eyes in the back of his head (except there wasn't any real back to his head; all sides were front).

  Jeff turned around. In the other direction was a landscaped hill with a large castlelike structure on it. At the foot of the hill, quite near to Jeff, was a miniature castle with a female dragon standing in the doorway. She was green, her large eyes fringed by eyelashes, and she held a smaller version of herself. Both wore thin gold collars.

  Jeff said softly, "You've brought us back to Jamya, Norby. I thought you didn't know how to get here."

  "I don't," Norby answered in a low voice. "It's some instinct or something. I just came. Part of me knows the planet of the dragons."

  "Well, then, please don't insult the Jamyns this time." He rose and bowed politely. "How do you do, ma'am? And how is your pretty daughter, Zargl, whom I see in your arms?"

  "I'm fine," said the young dragon, as she spread her wings and flew to Jeff's shoulder. "I'm glad you came back. You didn't stay long last time. I'm also glad you've learned our language."

  Jeff hoped his smile would seem a pleasant expression to the dragons. A gentle dragon bite had established telepathic communication with him when he and Norby had come here once before, and the bite had made it possible for him to learn the Jamyn language telepathically, almost at once. Perhaps the dragons could learn Terran Basic through telepathy.

  "I detect your thought," said the mother dragon in Terran Basic. "If you speak your language carefully and think more clearly, then I will learn more quickly." She switched to Jamyn. "It is more important, however, for you to continue to improve your knowledge of our language, which is clearly the more civilized of the two."

  Jeff did not think it would be wise to dispute that. He said, "Yes, ma'am," in careful Jamyn.

  "I discussed your earlier arrival with the Grand Dragon, and she said you must know the secret of hyperspace travel, which we Jamyn have never been given. We were meant to stay on our own planet."

  "Do you have many visitors?" Jeff asked.

  "We have had none at all. You were the first. That's why the matter had to be discussed. It was decided that if visitors are approved by the Mentors, they will be permitted to stay for a short period. Do you intend to remain?"

  "Do we intend to remain, Norby?" asked Jeff.

  "Not exactly." Norby blinked several times in that exasperating way he had when he was debating whether or not to confess that he'd gotten mixed up again. "Part of me seems to want to be here, and knows the way even though the rest of me doesn't. And I do know the language. I just can't quite remember what a Mentor is."

  "In Terran Basic, it means 'wise teacher,"' said Jeff.

  "It means the same in Jamyn," said the mother dragon. "They are our teachers. We were once a wild and primitive species, but the Others came and left Mentors to help us, as our legends say; and, of course, our legends are inspired and therefore true. By the way, you mustn't think of me as mother dragon. That is quite belittling. My name is Ziphyzggtmtizm."

  Jeff knew only so much could be expected of telepathic learning. "May I call you Zi?" he asked.

  Ziphyzggtmtizm whispered it several times softly to herself, then said, "Yes. I like it."

  "Who are the Others?"

  "That is difficult to say. There are no descriptions of them in our legends, and the Mentors have never told us anything about them…Zargl! Stop clawing at the alien's top scales! Mind your manners! Besides all that long, soft tangle may not be clean."

  Zargl took her claws out of Jeff's hair and said, "What's your name, alien?"

  "I'm Jeff and this is my robot, Norby."

  "Odd," said Zi. "Robots are small devices for mechanical labor, controlled by household computers, and are without personality or intelligence. Naturally, they belong to thinking Jamyns, as any machine might. This Norby that you call a robot, however, seems to have personality and intelligence. How can he be owned?"

  "That is a good question, come to think of it," said Norby.

  "Norby and I are partners," Jeff said before Norby could work over the question.

  The baby dragon left Jeff's shoulder and flew down to perch on Norby's hat.

  "Get off, get off," shouted Norby, waving his arms. "Won't," said Zargl. "You're not a Mentor."

  "I am, too," said Norby. "I am a teacher. I've been teaching that human boy languages, history, and-uh-galactic travel."

  Jeff sighed. Could you call it galactic travel when you were never sure where you were going, or how you would get away, or if you would return home when you did get away?

  "Would you care to have something to eat in my house?" asked Zi, courteously. "It was rude of me to chase you away last time and I would like to make amends. The Mentors know you are here by now, but they may not get round to you for a while because, as far as we know, they spend most of their time meditating. They are trying to tune in to all parts of the universe so
they can find the Others. We will have time to eat."

  "I'm not sure I can eat your food," said Jeff, trying to sound apologetic so as not to give offense.

  "I'll test it first," said Norby.

  "You being so accurate?"

  "Yes, indeed," said Norby, extending his legs to their longest and putting his hands on the sides of his barrel. "Testing the structure of foodstuffs is absurdly simple for a genius robot like me." Norby stalked into the dragon's home and Jeff followed.

  Norby passed the food as safe. "Good protein," he said. "High in fiber, lower in cholesterol. It will do you good, Jeff."

  Except for something blue and mushy that he decided not to try, Jeff thought it was delicious.

  The dragons' furniture was another thing. It was not built for human dimensions and angles and almost nothing looked the least bit comfortable. The exception was something in one corner that looked like a battered old green hassock.

  "May I sit on this, Zi?" Jeff asked.

  "Certainly. It's an antique tail rest that has been in our family for generations. It's still quite useful. Of course, you don't have a tail, you poor thing, but you are certainly welcome to rest the place where the tail ought to be."

  Jeff sat down and found it comfortable enough. It had a small design on top that resembled a diamond-shaped figure on the dragons' collars. A more interesting design of complicated wiggly patterns circled the sides of the hassock.

  Jeff said, "Where is your husband, Zi?"

  "What is a husband?"

  "Well, the male of the species who-that is…"

  "Male? Oh, you mean a different variety of a life form? I've read that such a phenomenon occurs on other planets. We don't travel, as I told you, but the Mentors have provided us with good galactographies. When I read about the peculiar customs and habits of other worlds I can only be grateful that we Jamyns live on a civilized planet."

  "But if you don't have males, how do you have children?"

  "Ah-you need males for that on other worlds, don't you? I've never really understood that. We bud, you know, and I don't see how it can be done conveniently any other way. Zargl was such a cute bud, right here under my wing. You should have seen her. But actually," she brought one wing forward and covered her eyes with it briefly, "we don't really talk about budding among ourselves. It's private. You're not Jamyn, of course, so you don't matter."