In the Centre of the Galaxy

by Clark Darlton

  "You’re going?" Iltu asked in despair.

  "I must go," Harno corrected her. "I will wait for you on the world of the Metalix. Land there. Nothing will make you seem more convincing than your own conviction that you are in the right. That is the only effective weapon against the Metalix, who, deep in their souls, are unsure of themselves. Put this uncertainty to use!"

  Harno climbed higher, through the ceiling—and disappeared.

  Koster looked at Iltu. "Soul?" he whispered. "Since when have robots had souls?"

  Iltu, looked past him. "Pucky! I hope we won’t be too late…"

  Koster awakened as if from a dream. "Don’t worry, we won’t be too late. I now know our target. We’ll manage it in one or two days or we’ll never manage it."

  As the door closed behind Koster, Ooch said: "Och!"

  3/ ROBOTS VS. ROBOTS

  Pucky teleported himself back into the Silver Arrow. Since he didn’t know whether the sight of him might in any way jeopardize the relationship between Homunk and the robot commander, he kept himself hidden, avoiding everyone. Whenever anybody came near his hiding place, he would teleport himself to another part of the ship.

  Never in his life had Pucky felt so humiliated. He was a pariah in the artificial crystal eyes of the robots. He simply was not considered an intelligent living being.

  Like a hounded wild animal, he had to be alert constantly and flee whenever he heard steps. He dared not defend himself, even though it would have been easy enough for him to do so. They should keep on thinking that he had fallen into the converter with the robots and had been turned into energy. Maybe it would be better that way. Only Homunk would know that his friend was alive and waiting somewhere for the right moment.

  The right moment…

  Pucky was hungry. It had been hours since he’d had his last meal. Luckily he was wearing his spacesuit for in its pockets were energy and water tablets. Also medicines in case of need.

  He swallowed a few pills and thought sorrowfully about the supply of frozen carrots that lay in the cold storage compartments of the EX-238. Then he thought about Iltu, He needn’t worry about her, he knew that, but it disturbed him to think that she would be worrying about him. She would certainly try everything in her power to save him. Maybe she would even think of contacting Harno.

  It was a peculiar friendship that bound Pucky and Harno They had not met often, the lively mousebeaver and the mysterious sphere that no one was certain could be called an actual living being or not. One day Harno had been found on an uninhabited moon of a planet. The black sphere was lying there in a star- and light-sparse sector of the Milky Way. It didn’t even have enough energy any longer to change its location. It was the Terranians who helped it gather up life energy again and Harno had never forgotten this friendly service.

  Pucky sighed and turned onto his other side. He lay in a dark room under the propulsion engines. Here he would not be found so soon. Yes, Harno could now be of help—and only Harno.

  "If only he won’t turn up too soon," murmured Pucky worriedly. "I have to find the home base of the robots first. Reg would really laugh at me if I went back to Earth without results." He smiled to himself when he thought of his bosom buddy. "Will he be surprised…!"

  The steady hum of the propulsion machinery made him sleepy.

  Peacefully, as if he had not a care in the universe, and as full as if he had devoured 10 pounds of asparagus tips, he finally went to sleep.

  Meanwhile, the yellow star in front of the Silver Arrow had grown steadily larger.

  Homunk sat next to the robot commander before the screen.

  They did not communicate, for the robot had never yet opened its mouth nor made any other sound. Homunk had addressed it in Intercosmo but had received no reply. He was being treated with special courtesy, almost with respect. He was not very worried about Pucky because he knew that the mousebeaver could look after himself alright.

  He could have turned on the communication equipment but he wanted, if at all possible, to avoid rousing mistrust. Luckily he didn’t need to eat. His semi-organism was kept alive by the same inexhaustible energy source that gave him immortality.

  On the screen, stars were retreating right and left. The same held true above and below their flight path. The ship now entered into a spherical space four light-years in diameter in which there was only one sun—the yellow sun that seemed to be the objective of the flight. In the Centre’s tremendous concentration of suns, nearly 35 cubic light-years with just one sun was as good as a vacuum. There, where the planet Earth revolved around its own sun, the identical conditions would have been interpreted as high density.

  The yellow star quickly grew larger. Soon Homunk saw on the magnifying screen a planet circling the star. He had long known that the yellow sun was the centre of the Milky Way. It was thus the only star that did not follow the rotation of the galaxy. The Earth took about 200 million years to revolve once around this yellow sun.

  "That planet over there—are we going to land?" He asked with a special purpose in mind: he wanted to find out whether the robot would interrupt his speaking. Since he could make out no reaction, he turned on his communications set with an unobtrusive movement of his hand.

  "Pucky, I hope you can hear me. We are approaching a yellow sun that has one planet. It must be the home base of the robots. We’re going to land. Stay in the background until we find out what they have in mind for us. What they have in mind for you seems clear enough. They have acknowledged me but not you."

  He then turned the set to receiving, only to turn it off completely right away.

  The interference was unbearable. Here there could be no wireless communication. This might explain why all races in this part of the galaxy lived isolated in their worlds and despite modem technology were backward in certain ways. But if so, nature should have helped out with telepathy!

  But not for robots, Homunk thought, and scolded himself for a fool. Robots could never be telepaths. They react to speech and planned programming, perhaps they also possess a limited independence; but telepaths…?

  Homunk had at this moment no idea how badly he was in error.

  The sun had grown gigantic. It glided sideways out of sight as the ship sank down upon the planet. Homunk could now see all the details of the surface on the screen. No one tried to stop him but then no one could know that he had a photographic memory. Later he could present an exact map of this world that had until now been unknown.

  It was a world of the most modern robot technology, that was obvious at first glance. Extensive factories of flat, long buildings stretched along huge spaceports in which stood thousands of ships ready for flight. They were all Silver Arrows with only slight variations in size. The factories and spaceports were connected by wide avenues on which there was much traffic. Low, slender vehicles flitted back and forth, apparently guided electronically. The passengers were hard to make out but Homunk saw that they were also humanoids.

  Oceans appeared, then again factories. In between, bald mountains and forests. Broad highways ran through it all.

  And then it suddenly occurred to Homunk: Cities! There were no cities!

  There were spaceports, takeoff and landing fields, huge factories and model highways. But cities were missing.

  Did the masters of the robots live underneath the surface of their world? There was, after all, enough space available—the mountains and the forests. The beaches that seemed uninhabited.

  With the last orbital approach, the Silver Arrow flew still lower. At the foot of a mountain Homunk then discovered a city. It seemed disappointingly small and seemed to be deserted. The buildings were anything but modem. They looked like the grey houses of a Terranian city of the 20th century. On the narrow streets there were old-fashioned vehicles, motionless and deserted like the houses. Nothing stirred.

  Before Homunk could see any more details, the Silver Arrow lost more altitude and flew towards the next spaceport. With a gentle jerk the ship finally l
anded and stood upright on its stem next to ramps that rose up from the ground.

  The commander turned off the motors with a final movement of his hand. The humming and vibration gradually subsided completely.

  Then he signalled to Homunk to leave the cabin with him. The glass lenses of the other robots stared expressionlessly after him.

  * * * *

  Pucky woke up as the ship landed.

  He sat up and listened. The propulsion machinery was silent. If he did not want to lose Homunk, he could no longer remain here in the ship. In an alien world—and where else could they have landed?—it would be well-nigh impossible to find the android again.

  Pucky could not fly but he possessed powers of teleportation and telekinetics as no other of the mutants. In the course of his long experience he had managed to combine the two abilities. Plainly put, he could pull himself up by his own bootstraps, something that was impossible for any other living being. Through teleportation he could take himself any place he wanted and through the help of telekinetics he could hold himself there. Even when the place was several kilometres above the surface of a planet.

  As a precaution, he screwed on his space helmet, for he didn’t have the slightest idea whether the atmosphere of the alien world was breathable or not. Homunk did not have to worry about it but Pucky was an oxygen-breather like the Terranians. Since most of the inhabited worlds of the galaxy were oxygen worlds, that could be assumed to be the case here too. But he didn’t want to take any chances.

  He concentrated on an invisible point two kilometres above the ship. That would be enough for a first survey. Then he dematerialised.

  Pucky saw at first glance that it was a huge and modem spaceport. Its limits to one side could barely be seen even from this height. Below him was the Silver Arrow. Other ships stood quite near it. Behind lay the endless warehouses or factories that Homunk had noticed.

  Slowly Pucky let himself sink lower in order to be able to make out details.

  The hatchway of the Silver Arrow opened. Homunk was the first to come out, accompanied by a robot, probably the commander. Pucky had to keep in mind that the fellow had condemned him to death. Now would be a good time to help him take a free flight without a parachute. It would tinkle nicely to have such a robot fall from a height of a few kilometres and be smashed to pieces on the hard concrete.

  But Pucky postponed his revenge to a later time. Now he couldn’t let Homunk out of his sight.

  A teardrop-shaped car drove up and stopped in front of the Silver Arrow.

  Homunk got in first, followed by the robot. The vehicle started up and glided across the landing field toward the flat buildings. At a safe altitude, Pucky followed them.

  Homunk had no idea that he was being watched over in this way but, had he known it, he would no doubt have felt better. Silently he sat next to his equally silent companion and tried to understand the workings of the remote-control vehicle. Its operation seemed very simple, and after a few changes in direction to other guide runners, he was firmly convinced that he could drive such a thing himself.

  They passed a few Silver Arrows that were obviously being prepared for takeoff. Here, too, the work was performed exclusively by robots. Even in the vehicles they met sat robots. They paid no attention to him or to the commander.

  The real inhabitants of the planet must have reached the highest stage of civilization when they themselves didn’t have to lift a finger any more. They manned their ships with robots and stayed at home. Apparently they led a comfortable and lazy life underneath the surface, a life that doubtless camouflaged the danger of early degeneration.

  Calmly Homunk analysed the planet’s environment.

  The atmosphere was breathable—Pucky would have no difficulties. The gravity was slightly under one G, a little less than on Earth. The revolution time of the planet was two Earth years. The existing tilt along its longitudinal axis ensured seasons between the equator and the poles, and a temperate climate. The rotation took twice as long as on Terra. Long days and long nights and seasons that were twice as long. The climate was tolerable.

  The buildings came closer. Homunk was firmly convinced that the robot next to him was already in contact with his superior. He seemed as sure of himself and his objective as only a robot who was receiving running orders could be.

  The avenue turned slightly to the left and the wagon was now fast approaching the buildings that had a cold and sobering effect on Homunk. Cold and sobering, like everything else he had come upon in this world and on the Silver Arrow. The aliens must have left the surface of their world entirely to the robots in order to be less disturbed in their own living quarters.

  And yet something didn’t entirely fit.

  Homunk didn’t know what it was but all his questions should soon be answered when he would finally stand face to face with the aliens who had him brought here.

  The vehicle turned off the main avenue and approached a dome-like structure that, from the outside, did not appear to be as functional as the flat buildings. It was connected to the other structures by concrete tunnels 3 meters high. On top of the silvery shining dome there was a tall pole, at the upper end of which was a sphere.

  The car stopped; the robot got out. Homunk followed him across an open court and entered next to him into the dome structure whose door opened in front of them as if moved by ghostly hands. A wide hall bathed in brilliant light was before them. In the middle of this hall, surrounded by half-buried generators and other machines, stood a huge shape that vaguely resembled the control brain of the Silver Arrow. A hemisphere formed the base from which the robot brain protruded. Its front consisted of switchboards and dials, and a series of screens forming a semicircle, levers and countless manipulation devices. Most striking, though, was the oval vaulted screen in the middle. It was positioned to face the entrance exactly.

  Slowly the light in the hall dimmed; it became dusk.

  The robot strode on and remained standing 10 feet from the technical giant. Instinctively Homunk kept a step behind him, although he had no idea what was to happen now. He noted that the oval screen got brighter as it grew darker in the hall.

  And then the first colour patterns flickered over the milky surface.

  They were meaningless for Homunk but he got the idea that the machine was saying something to his attendant. A kind of optical communication, perhaps even a language. Other than the humming of hidden machines, nothing was to be heard. If it was a language, it was a soundless one.

  Homunk reflected that this robot brain could very well be a relay station. The masters of this world gave their orders to the robots in this way, and so did not have to be seen themselves. These relay stations must be all over the surface. Homunk was convinced that he was being photographed now by hidden cameras that would project his image onto the screens of the aliens. They could now see him, while he had not caught sight of any of them. His expression changed into an iron mask. This way, they would find out nothing. If they wanted something from him, they would have to come to him and show themselves. Perhaps then they could come to an understanding.

  The coloured patterns were now changing more slowly and often stood still for several seconds. Sometimes the same symbols appeared many times running. They were abstract and meaningless.

  Deep in Homunk’s memory banks something suddenly stirred. It was one of those chronicle-memories conveyed to him by the immortal and it was activated only when there was a stimulus to it. It could happen acoustically or optically—as in this case.

  The patterns!

  They were not so strange as Homunk’s consciousness had at first assumed. They closed a relay and thereby a circuit. Here memory changed now to knowledge.

  The colour patterns came fast and almost automatically; whoever was activating the keyboard knew his job well. It was hard for Homunk to follow the text but whatever fragments he could make out were sufficient for him to get an overview.

  Homunk’s expression did not change. It was muc
h too early to let the aliens know that he had decoded their secret. He pondered over which of the symbols that were familiar to him were contained in the structure of that language, in order to get an indication of the aliens’ origin.

  Arkonidean perhaps?

  The Arkonides had also sat in front of screens in their leisure hours and watched abstract colour patterns. For edification and recreation, without ever having understood any deeper meaning. They had simply enjoyed the orchestration of colours and forms, nothing more. It hadn’t even occurred to them there was anything more to it than pleasure. In reality, however, Homunk understood now that there was something more behind it. A language. The language of a race of which the Arkonides knew nothing any more. Not even the Akons who were considered the forebears of the Arkonides.

  It was a language that must be even older.

  How old, then, Homunk asked himself, must this race be?

  He concentrated anew on the colour patterns.

  At first he understood only fragments.

  "…treat with utmost care… origin uncertain… the little companion is still alive… capture… not kill…"

  The patterns died away.

  Homunk’s attendant, the commander of the Silver Arrow, took 10 steps forward and laid his hands on the keys of the switchboard. He waited a few seconds, then began to play with the levers and the push buttons. Immediately the screen lit up again.

  This time the screen served only as a control. The image that appeared on it must also be appearing simultaneously on the screens of the aliens somewhere on or beneath the planet. The robot was answering his superiors.

  "…attempts at communication unsuccessful… will keep on… the little companion disappeared… converter… seek directions…"

  So now! The robot was asking for instructions. He was a receiver of orders, as Homunk had thought all along.

  More than ever Homunk was now determined to find the aliens, to confront them and to demand an accounting. An accounting of what they had done with Pucky. He was alive, or so the patterns of the aliens indicated. They also did not want to kill him but they did want to capture him.