They materialized 50 meters below ground in a rectangular, bare room. There was no furniture at all. Several doors led into other rooms that seemed as cheerless as the first. It was cold, and if ever there had been a heating system here, it was no longer functioning.
"It doesn’t look very livable," Pucky complained in disappointment.
"Let’s look farther. I don’t think these were living quarters. If so, there should have been at least the remains of some furnishings. They’re made of durable materials."
After a few more tries, they landed in a huge hall with a low ceiling. In the middle was a nearly square basin, about three meters deep.
"A swimming pool!" said Homunk in wonder. "So they did not even do without that. I think we’re getting closer. Well, what does your famous nose say? Any scent yet?"
Pucky sniffed around the air.
"Plenty stale, I’d say. Look at this dust, Homunk! Nobody’s cleaned up for years. Since the robots established themselves as the masters of the surface, they couldn’t care less about the nice underground quarters. Let’s go on. I’m curious about what all we’ll find."
The farther they went, the more livable the rooms became. Harno had been right; the furnishings were of durable material that not even time could attack. The projection equipment and the receiving screens were still functioning properly, as a brief trial demonstrated. Homunk was interested in a control station as described and shown them by Harno. On the screen appeared, one after the other, various images of the capital city and the spaceports as seen from a small distance above ground. It was a puzzle how these pictures were made, for Pucky had seen neither low-flying satellites nor aircraft.
"We could await developments in peace and quiet down here," Homunk suggested. "We should go up only after Koster has landed."
Pucky did not reply. He was busy trying to open a heavy door. He could simply have teleported himself through the door but it was too risky. No one knew what lay beyond the door. He cautiously probed the electronic locks by telekinesis until he had familiarized himself with the wiring and switches. Then he started his move. Slowly the door swung open.
A frightful smell met the two explorers. Shocked, they retreated. Pucky closed the door as fast as possible.
"There you’ve got your something to eat," said Homunk.
Pucky made a face.
"Wager lost," he stated. "If you don’t say anything to Bell, I can still keep my carrots."
"You didn’t bet with Bell but with me. You’re lucky you lost, otherwise you’d have to give me Bell’s scalp. But you can keep your carrots. Still, there’s something I don’t understand: if the food was going to spoil, it should have done so thousands of years ago. There should be no trace left of it, also no smell. The ventilation here is working perfectly."
Before Pucky could answer, they heard footsteps.
Homunk reacted immediately. He took Pucky by the sleeve and pulled him into a niche next to a cupboard. They ducked down. The footsteps came closer. They were hard and even but also a bit unsteady, as if the alien were not used to walking any more.
The door opened and a robot came into the room. It stopped as it noticed the light shining down from the ceiling.
It was broadly and powerfully built, on its chest a screen that now lit up. The familiar symbols appeared in rapid succession.
Homunk nodded reassuringly to Pucky and came out of their hiding place. He ignored the robot and went to the controls of the symbol screen.
"Don’t worry, Pucky," he said. "A worker or servant. Let’s see what it wants."
The conversation that now took place was entirely silent as both screens flickered. They were the same symbols as came from the great robot brain.
"I await the orders of my master," he robot said.
Homunk’s brain worked faster than any human brain. From the given facts and the question of the robot he came to conclusions that would have taken more time and more facts for human beings. But Homunk knew immediately that he was facing a robot that had lost every contact with the long-independent robot brains. Apparently it also had no sense of time. At any rate, it took Homunk for a Galacteer.
"Prepare a bath and bring me something to eat," said Homunk. Before the robot could go again, he added quickly, "And something to drink."
At the door, the symbol screen of the servant lit up again: "Does my master wish to eat before or after the bath?"
"Before, of course."
The robot disappeared. Pucky came out of hiding. Quickly Homunk explained what they had ‘said’ to each other. Pucky’s eyes expressed wonder.
"How is it possible? Why isn’t the robot astounded that you’re here? It couldn’t possibly assume that you’ve been sleeping for a couple of thousand years…"
"It doesn’t know, Pucky. I would guess that contact with the surface was lost gradually. The Galacteers let the robots take over their world; Harno has already told us that. They stayed down below with their mechanized servants. As they slowly died out, the servants remained. There was nothing for them to do any more, and with greater and greater pauses from work, they deactivated themselves. The time that has gone by is meaningless for them. Whether it’s a single night or 5,000 years—it doesn’t matter. For the robots only a few hours have passed since they last saw a Galacteer. The robot thinks I’m one. Evidence that they were humanoids."
"Even so, I can’t understand it. Its brain functions logically and perfectly. Why shouldn’t it know what has happened on the surface? It must have been informed of the change."
"Didn’t you once say that these robots had race prejudice?" Homunk smiled. "You apparently had no idea how right you were. Between the ordering robots of the surface and the silent waiters of the underworld, there was even then a strong, sociological difference that could be the cause of the present situation. As they gained mastery, the surface robots simply ignored the servants. They did not think it necessary to inform the servants or to reprogram them. So there is a third group of robots in this world, apparently the most friendly towards us."
"That makes no difference as far as I’m concerned. No doubt this servant will also take me for the devil when he sees me."
"More likely for a toy of its master’s," Homunk said. "I’m only curious as to what it’ll bring us. Hopefully not a sample of rotten food."
Pucky shook himself and disappeared with lightning speed as the door opened and the robot entered.
The robot was pushing a serving cart and steered it towards the low table that was surrounded by wide sofas. It gave Pucky, who was peeking around the comer of the niche in curiosity, a warning glance. The mousebeaver ducked and rolled up his eyes.
An enticing aroma spread throughout the room.
The food, as Homunk ascertained through a quick olfactory analysis, consisted of synthetic materials. They were entirely suitable for a human organism and even the mousebeaver would not suffer any harm from tasting it. Four sizable bottles were also on the tray. In them variously coloured liquids floated back and forth. The robot servant disappeared soundlessly.
Pucky shot out of the niche and fell on the unexpected meal. For awhile he tasted the various dishes sceptically, even though Homunk had assured him that they were edible and he could consume them without risk. Then he decided on a kind of stew.
"Excellent," he squeezed out while chewing. "Really excellent! I’d like to know what it’s made of."
"I could tell you but it wouldn’t do your appetite any good. It’s synthetic, as I told you already. But nourishing."
Pucky ate till he was stuffed. The drink seemed equally palatable. In one flask there was even a trace of alcohol. Just for fun, Homunk joined him in a glass.
Pucky drank all there was in the bottle, stretched himself out on the sofa, crossed his arms under his head and grunted: "You can send me two servants who will carry me to the bath."
"They’ll carry you there just to drown you," Homunk prophesied. "If you’ll take my advice, you should sleep for a fe
w hours. I will give the robot appropriate orders."
"Orders? What do you mean?"
"It’ll guard you while you’re sleeping and I’ll look around some more. I have to find signs of the Galacteers. They are a race whose origins interest me."
"Me too. I want to…"
"You sleep, Pucky. That’s an order! You can’t do anything with an overtired teleporter even in an emergency. So be reasonable, little one."
Pucky resumed his original position. A peaceful smile spread over his features. He was grinning in satisfaction.
"That’ll suit me fine, Homunk. Hopefully I won’t sleep for a couple of thousand years like the robots here below."
"I’ll wake you at the right time," Homunk promised and left the room. He closed the door carefully and activated his supplementary sense of orientation that from now on would mark his every step and record it in his memory bank. Whatever happened, he could find his way back again.
He met the robot in the next room and ordered him not to stir from the spot and to stop anyone who might want to go into the living room. The robot confirmed the order.
Homunk experienced no special surprises.
The underground world was just as it must have been during the lifetime of the Galacteers. Everywhere he met robot servants who, when he drew close, automatically woke from their ‘sleep’ and humbly wanted to know what he wanted.
He went from apartment to apartment, passed by huge energy stations, control stations and now-abandoned amusement stations. There was even an artificially laid out park with meadows, ponds and small mountains. The Galacteers had known how to live here, underground. And yet they were extinct.
Perhaps because they had lived too well.
As Homunk was on the point of turning back again, he noticed a massive door, far heavier than those which had opened before him automatically until now. In front of this one stood two robots. They too were different from the servants. They carried weapons.
They looked at him with expressionless features and frozen eyes.
"What’s behind the door?" Homunk asked with the help of the symbol screen that was to be found in every room.
"The other world," was the answer.
"Open."
The robots did not move.
"Entrance is forbidden."
"Who told you that?"
"All the order stations, master."
Hm, Homunk thought, they still call me 4 master". By ‘order stations’ they must surely mean the robot brains to whom the extinct Galacteers had given too much freedom. So much freedom as to let them become independent—and to let them lock up the Galacteers in their underground world.
That was it!
In a second, everything was plain to Homunk. He now knew why the Galacteers had become extinct. He knew the cause. It wasn’t only the decadence, not only the laziness that stemmed from too much comfort, it was the robots who had played their part in the destruction. Perhaps intentionally.
They had locked up the Galacteers in their underworld living quarters and had hermetically sealed them off from the upper world. Possibly the robot brains had even given false reports to the Galacteers as to what was happening on the surface.
At the same time it was equally certain that the two guards in front of the door did not know what was really happening. Just like the servants, they had looked to their duty without noticing that changes had taken place.
"Open the door," Homunk ordered determinedly. "Other orders don’t count any more."
The robots finally moved but only to raise their weapons. Their barrels now pointed at Homunk.
That was their answer. The screens remained dark.
Homunk had to know what lay beyond the door. Perhaps only the way to the surface, perhaps something else. The two guards did not represent much of an obstacle. He could always unplug them.
He paid no more attention to them and went forward until he had reached a bend in the hallway. He stopped, under cover, and drew his tiny laser pistol from his combination pockets. It was a most effective weapon, for even at a hundred meters its beam was so concentrated as to have a diameter of no more than a pencil point.
For a moment he considered whether it would not be better to fetch Pucky but then he decided to let the mousebeaver sleep. Pucky badly needed rest.
The robots had lowered their weapons as they saw that he was withdrawing.
He aimed at the first one and shot. Even before the effect could be ascertained, he aimed at the other one and bored a hole through its head with his energy beam. With that, he disturbed the electronic nerve centre and disabled it.
When he again approached them, they did not react. They stood motionless. Homunk went past them to the door. It was secured by a complicated magnetic lock that could only be opened by force. With a beam of his laser gun Homunk simply burned out a hole in the door and climbed through it.
In front of him was a tunnel.
Above, there was light. A fresh breath of air indicated a gangway to the surface. Guide rails pointed to freight elevators. At regular intervals there were corridors leading away from the tunnel.
From below came noises.
Homunk drew back far enough to be hidden in the shadows of the small platform separating the door from the shaft. And not a second too soon, for a square-shaped cubicle came floating aloft. It was remote-controlled, for no robots were to be seen, but the cubicle was filled with shining metal blocks that seemed freshly moulded. One could tell by the shimmering seams.
Slowly Homunk nodded to himself. He had surmised a long time ago that the robots were hauling their raw materials out of the deeps of the planet. Apparently they had already been doing it when the Galacteers were still alive and they had made certain that no one would disturb this particular arrangement.
Homunk himself was a robot of sorts and he could not but wonder with what care and finesse the Metalix had made themselves the masters of this world. They had succeeded in eliminating the Galacteers without bloodshed. It had been a peaceful revolution for a change in the power structure. Machines had driven their creators from the surface of their world and the human beings had thought it was their own idea.
Behind it all were the robot brains, the guiding lights.
They had to be put out of action to avoid this storm in the Milky Way.
Homunk watched one mine car after another sliding to the top and empty ones disappearing into the depths. There, in eternal darkness, robots were working. Perhaps there were robots who had never seen the sun of their own world, perhaps did not even know what had happened during the preceding thousands of years.
Carefully Homunk stepped onto the narrow strips that led to the elevators.
As the next empty mine care swept by him, he jumped inside.
He had to know what was happening down below.
* * * *
When Pucky awoke, he instinctively looked at his watch.
He had slept for 10 hours and felt refreshed. The remains of his meal still stood on the table. Since he did not trust himself to call the robot servant, he busied himself over the remains and polished off everything that was left. He emptied a second bottle, belched in satisfaction and began to hope that Homunk would soon come back.
The android had been gone for 10 hours. A very long time to look around a couple of apartments. Hopefully, nothing had happened to him.
Pucky remembered the radio transmitter and receiver built into his spacesuit. He turned it on and called Homunk. There was no answer. There was no interference but it could well be that the massive rock walls let no radio waves penetrate. Besides which, Homunk could be heaven-knows-where.
"Certainly he’s somewhere," Pucky grunted indecisively. "Too bad positronic brains don’t send thought impulses."
He was startled when the door opened and the robot servant entered the room. But then it occurred to him that after all nothing much could happen to him. If the situation grew too ticklish, he could simply teleport himself to another spot.
With a waddling gait, the robot approached and stopped in front of him. On the screen, the colour symbols appeared but Pucky could make nothing of them. These Galacteers must have been even too lazy to speak toward the end, otherwise they would never have invented these crazy speech symbols.
"But my dear fellow," Pucky piped up condescendingly. "You don’t by any chance know where my friend is? Do turn off your flicker box! I don’t understand any of it."
"Our little master prefers a sound language?"
It was as if Pucky had received an electric shock. The words were loud and distinct, if a bit distorted. Not even the universal language but an ancient Arkonide dialect.
"Wha—"? Pucky said and sat down. He was so surprised that his short legs could no longer support him. He simply stared at the robot.
The robot did not move from the spot.
"Your command, master?"
Pucky began to slowly reconcile himself to the fact that the robot was capable of speech. Why he hadn’t spoken before this remained a mystery. There could be a thousand reasons. There was also no reason why he addressed Pucky as ‘master’.
The robots in the holy city and in the Silver Arrow had reacted quite differently. Perhaps these robots down below had received somewhat better training, Pucky surmised, not entirely groundlessly.
"I—ah—I want to know where my—hm—companion is."
"The great lord?" The robot seemed to know exactly whom Pucky was referring to. "He will return. Does my master wish to take a bath?"
"The Galacteers probably did nothing but eat and take baths, huh? Very well, a bath for me. But a warm one, please. With music."
"With music," affirmed the robot, turned around and went out of the room.
Pucky stared helplessly after him.
Ten minutes later the mousebeaver was washing off the dirt of the past few days in a huge basin. The water was comfortably warm and had an agreeable scent. From hidden loudspeakers issued soft, electronic music. An orchestrated ablution, as Pucky had desired.
The robot had disappeared with his spacesuit and his underwear. When he returned the laundered clothes, they smelled all fresh and new as if they had just been purchased in a store.
In the Centre of the Galaxy Page 11
