Daylight began to filter through the snowfall. The wind died to a whimper. The ground flattened rapidly. Before the precipitation had quite ended fog was back, the newly frozen gases subliming under Mimir’s rays and recondensing in air.

  Flandry said, low and by sonic transmission: “Radio silence. Move quiet as you can.”

  It was hardly a needful order. Earplugs were loud with digital code and a metallic rattle came from ahead.

  Once more Wayland took Flandry by surprise. He had expected the mists to lift slowly—as they’d done near dawn—giving him and Djana time to make out something of what was around them before they were likely to be noticed. For minutes the white did veil them. Two meters away, wet ice and rock, tumbling rivulets and steaming puddles faded into smoky nothing.

  It broke apart. Through the rifts he saw the plain and the machines. The holes widened with tearing rapidity. The fog broke into cloudlets which puffed aloft and vanished.

  Djana screamed.

  Knowledge then struck through Flandry.

  Damn me for a witling. Why didn’t I think? It takes a long while to heat things up again after half a month of night. But not after two hours. And evaporation goes fast at low pressures…

  That was at the back of his brain. Most of him saw what surrounded him. The blaster sprang into his hand.

  Though the mountain was not far behind, soaring from a knife-sharp boundary, he and Djana had passed by the nearest radio mast and were down on the plain. Like other maria on Wayland, it was not perfectly level; it rolled, reared in scattered needles and minor craters, seamed itself with narrow cracks and was bestrewn with rocks and overlaid in places by ice banks. The travelers had entered the section that was marked into squares. More than a kilometer apart, the lines ran arrow straight, east and west, north and south, farther than he could see before curvature shut off vision. He happened to be near one and could identify it as a wide streak of black granules driven permanently into the stone.

  What he truly saw in that moment was the robots.

  A hundred meters to his right went three of the six-legged lopers. Somewhat farther off on his left rolled a horned and treaded giant. Still farther ahead—but not too far to catch him—straggled half a dozen different monstrosities. Bugs by the score leaped and crawled across the ground. Flyers were slanting down the cleared sky. He threw a look to the rear and saw retreat cut off by a set of legs upbearing a circular saw.

  Djana cast herself on her knees. Flandry crouched above, teeth skinned, and waited in the racket of his heart for the first assailant.

  There was none.

  The killers ignored them.

  Nor did they pay attention to each other.

  Relief sent Flandry’s mind whirling. When he had recovered he saw that the machines were converging on a point. Nothing at all appeared above the horizon—their goal was still too distant. He knew what it was, though—the central complex of buildings.

  Djana began to laugh, the sound wilder and wilder. Flandry didn’t think they could afford hysteria. He hauled her to her feet.

  “Turn off that braying before I shake it out of you.”

  Words did not work. He took her by the ankles, held her upside down and made his threat good.

  She sobbed and gulped and wrestled her way back to control while he held her in a more gentle embrace and studied the robots across her shoulder. Most were in poor shape. Holes were torn in their skins. Limbs were missing. No wonder he’d heard them rattle and clank in the fog. Some looked unhurt aside from minor scratches and dents. Probably their accumulators were about drained.

  In the end he could explain to her.

  “I always figured those that survived the battles would get recharge and repair in this area. I daresay the critters never wander too far from it—and we did spot construction work. The setup’s being steadily expanded, probably new centers are planned. At any rate, this place seems to be crucial. Elsewhere, they’re programmed to attack anything that moves and isn’t like their own particular breed. Here they’re perfect little lambs. Or so goes my current guess.”

  “We’re safe, then?”

  “I wouldn’t swear to that. What’s caused this whole insanity? But I think, anyhow, we can proceed.”

  “Where to?”

  “The centrum, of course. Giving these fellows a respectful berth. They seem to be headed a little offside. Probably their R & R stations lie some ways from the main computer’s old location.”

  “Old?”

  “We don’t know if it exists any longer,” Flandry reminded her.

  Nonetheless he walked with ebullience. He was still alive. How marvelous that his arms swung, his heels smote ground, his lungs inhaled and his unwashed scalp itched. Regin had begun to wax, the thinnest of bows drawing back from Mimir’s incandescent arrowpoint, Elsewhere were glittering stars, Djana walked silently, exhausted by emotion. She’d recover.

  He was actually whistling a little as they crossed the next line. A moment later he took her arm and pointed.

  “Look.”

  A new kind of robot was approaching from within the square. It was about the size of a man. The skin gleamed softly golden. Iridescence was lovely over the great batlike wings that helped the springing of its two long, hoofed and spurred legs. The body was a horizontal barrel, a balancing tail behind, a neck and head rearing in front. With its goggling optical and erect audio sensors, its long muzzle that perhaps held the computer and its mane of erect antennae, that head looked eerily equine. From its forepart, swivel mounted, thrust a lance.

  “We could almost call it a rocking-horse fly, couldn’t we?” Flandry said. “As for the bread-and-butter fly—” His classical reference was lost on the girl.

  She screamed afresh when the robot wheeled and came toward them in huge soaring leaps. The lance was aimed to kill.

  -8-

  Djana was the target. She stood momentarily paralyzed.

  “Run,” Flandry bawled.

  He sped to intercept. The gun flamed in his grasp. Sparks showered where the beam struck.

  The girl bolted. The robot swerved and bounded after her. It paid no attention to Flandry. And his shooting had no effect he could see.

  Must be armored against energy weapons—unlike the things we’ve met hitherto…

  He thumbed the power stud to full intensity. Fire just cascaded blindingly off the metal shape. Heedless, it bore down on the unarmed girl.

  “Dodge toward me,” Flandry called.

  She heard and obeyed. The lance struck her from behind. It did not penetrate the air tank as it would surely have the thinner spacesuit material. The blow knocked her sprawling. She rolled over, crawled up and fled on. Wings beat behind her. The machine was hopping around to get at her from the front.

  It passed Flandry. He leaped. His arms locked around the neck of the horsehead. He threw a leg over the body. The wings boomed behind him where he rode.

  And still the thing did not fight him, still it chased Djana. But Flandry’s mass slowed it, made it stumble. Twisting about, he fired into the right wing. The sheet metal and a rib gave way. Crippled, the robot fell to the ground. It threshed and bucked. Somehow Flandry hung on. Battered, half stunned, he kept his blaster snout within centimeters of the head and kept the trigger held back. His faceplate darkened against furious radiance. Heat struck at him like teeth.

  Abruptly came quiet. He had pierced through to an essential part and slain the killer.

  He sprawled across it, gasping the parching-hot air into his mouth, aware of undergarments sodden with sweat and muscles athrob with bruises, dimly aware that he had better arise. Not until Djana returned to him did he feel able to.

  A draught of water and a stimpill shoved through his chowlock restored a measure of strength. He looked at the machine he had destroyed and thought vaguely that it was quite beautiful. Like a dreamworld knight.

  His arm lifted in salute and his voice murmured, “Ahoy, ahoy, check.”

  “What?” Djana asked.

  “Nothing.” Flandry willed the aches out of his consciousness and the shakes out of his body. “Let’s get going.”

  “Yes.”

  She was suffering worse from reaction than he. Her features looked completely drained. She started off with mechanical strides, back toward the mountain.

  “Wait just a minute,” Flandry grabbed her soft shoulder. “Where are you bound?”

  “Away,” she said without tone. “Before something else comes after us.”

  “To sit in the sealtent—or at best, the boat—and wait for death? No, thanks.” Flandry turned her about. She was too numbed to resist. “Here, swallow a booster.”

  He had lost all but a rag of hope himself. The centrum was at the far side of the pattern, some ten kilometers hence.

  We’ll explore a wee bit further, though. There’s precious little to lose…

  A machine appeared. At first it was a spark on the horizon, bright metal reflecting Mimir light. Traveling fast across the plain, it gained shape within minutes. Flandry cursed. Dragging Djana, he made for a house-sized piece of meteoritic stone. Defense might be possible from its top.

  The robot went past.

  Djana sobbed her thanks. Flandry recovered from the shock of his latest deliverance after a second. He stood where he was, holding the girl against him, and peered closely. The machine wasn’t meant for fighting. It was scarcely more than a self-operating flatbed truck with a pair of lifting arms.

  It loaded the fallen lancer aboard and returned whence it came.

  “For repairs,” Flandry breathed. “No wonder we don’t find stray parts in this neighborhood.”

  Djana shuddered in his arms.

  His words slowly shaped the thoughts they uttered: “Two classes of killer robot, then. One is free-wheeling, fights indiscriminately, comes here to get fixed if it can make the trip and doubtless returns to the wilderness for more hunting. While it’s here, it keeps the peace. The other kind always stays here, does fight here—though it doesn’t interfere with the first kind or the maintenance machines—and is carefully salvaged when it comes to grief.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know if that’s encouraging or not.” He glanced down at Djana. “How do you feel?”

  The drug he had forced on her was taking hold. It was not magical. It could not marshal resources which were no longer there. But for a time he and she would be alert, cool-headed, strong, quick-reacting.

  And we’d better complete our business before the metabolic bill is presented…

  “I guess I’ll do,” she said. “Are you certain we should continue?”

  “No. However, we will.”

  The next two squares they crossed were empty. One to their left was occupied. The humans kept a taut watch on that robot as they went past. It did not stir. It was a tread-mounted cylinder, taller and broader than a man, its two arms ending in huge smashing mauls, its head—the top of it, anyway, where there were what must be sensors—crowned with merlons like the battlements of some ancient tower. The sight jogged at Flandry’s memory. A thought stirred in him but vanished before he could seize it. It could wait. Readiness for another assault could not.

  Djana startled him.

  “Nick, does each of them stay inside its own square?”

  “And defend that particular bit of territory against intruders?” Flandry’s mind sprang. And he smacked fist into palm. “By Jumbo, I think you’re right! It could be a scheme for guarding the centrum against really dangerous machines that really don’t behave themselves on this plain. A weird scheme—but then everything here on Wayland is weird. Yes. The types of wild robot we’ve seen—and the ambulance and such—they’re recognized as harmless and left alone. We don’t fit into that program so we’re fair game.”

  “Not all the squares are occupied,” she said doubtfully.

  He shrugged. “Maybe a lot of sentries are under repair at the moment.” Excitement waxed in him. “The important point is that we can get across. Either directly across the lines or over to a boundary and then around them. We simply avoid sections where any machine is. Making sure none are lurking behind a rock or whatever, of course.” He hugged her. “Sweetheart, I do believe we’re going to make it.”

  The same eagerness kindled in her. They stepped briskly forth.

  A figure that came into view two kilometers farther drew a cry from her. “Nick, a man!”

  He jolted to a stop and raised his binoculars in unsteady hands. The object was indeed creepily similar to a large space-suited human. But there were differences of detail. It stood as death-still as the tower thing and it was armed with sword and shield. Rather, its arms terminated in those pieces of war gear. Flandry lowered the glasses.

  “No such luck,” he said, “Not that it’d be luck. Anybody who’s come here and taken charge like this would probably scupper us. It’s yet another brand of guard robot.” He tried to joke, “That means another detour. I’m getting more exercise than I really want.”

  “You could destroy it.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. If our friend the horse was typical, as I suspect, they’re pretty well armored against energy beams. And I don’t want to waste charge. We used too much in that last encounter. Another fracas and we could be weaponless.” Flandry started off on a slant across the square. “We’ll avoid him and go past the territory belonging to that comparatively mild-looking chap there.”

  Djana’s glance followed his pointing finger. Remotely gleamed other immobile forms, including a duplicate of the hippoid and three of the android. Doubtless more were hidden by irregularities of terrain or its sharp fall to the horizon. The machine which Flandry had in mind, though, was closer, just left of his intended path. It was another cylinder, taller and slimmer than the robot with the hammers. The smooth bright surface was unbroken by limbs. The cone-shaped head was partly split down the middle—above an array of instruments.

  “He may simply be a watcher,” Flandry theorized.

  They passed. The gaunt, abstract statue was falling behind when Djana yelled.

  Flandry spun about. The thing had left its square and was entering the one they were now in.

  Dust and sparkling ice crystals whirled in the meter of space between its base and the ground. Air cushion drive, beat through Flandry. He looked frantically around for shelter.

  “Run.”

  He retreated, blaster out.

  A pencil of white fire struck at him from the cleft head. It missed—but barely. He felt heat gust where the energy splashed and steam exploded…

  This kind packs a gun…

  Reflexively, he returned a shot. Less powerful, his beam hardly shone when it met the alloy hide. The robot moved on in. He could hear the hollow roar of its motor. A direct hit at closer quarters would pierce his suit and body. He fired again and prepared to flee.

  If I can divert that tin bastard.

  It did not occur to Flandry that his action might get him accused of gallantry. He started off in a different direction from the girl’s. Longer-legged, he had a feebly better chance than she of keeping ahead of death, of reaching a natural barricade and making a stand.

  Tensed with the expectation of lightning, the hope that his air unit would give protection and not be ruined, he had almost reached the next line when he realized there had been no fire. He braked and turned to stare behind.

  The robot must have halted right after the exchange. Its head swung back and forth, as if in search. Surely it must sense him.

  It started off after Djana.

  Flandry spat an oath and pounded back to help. She had a good head start but the machine was faster. And if it had crossed one line—wouldn’t it cross another? Flandry’s boots slammed upon stone. Oxygen-starved, his brain cast forth giddiness and patches of black. His intercepting course brought him nearer. He shot. The bolt went wild. He bounded yet more swiftly. Again he shot. This time he hit.

  The robot slowed, veered as if to meet this antagonist who could be dangerous, faced away once more and resumed its pursuit of Djana. Flandry held down his trigger and hosed it with flame. The girl crossed the boundary. The robot stopped dead.

  But—but—gibbered in Flandry’s skull.

  The robot stirred, lifted, and swung toward him. It moved hesitantly, wobbling a little, not as if damaged—but as if puzzled.

  I shouldn’t be packing a blaster, Flandry thought in the turmoil. With my shape, I’m supposed to carry sword and shield.

  The truth crashed into him.

  He took no time to examine it. He knew simply that he must get into the same square as Djana. An android with blade and scute in place of hands could not crawl very well. Flandry went to all fours. He scuttled backward. The lean tall figure rocked after him. Its limited computer—an artificial brain could reach no decision as to what he was and what to do about him.

  He crossed the line. The robot settled to the ground.

  Flandry rose and tottered after Djana. She had collapsed several meters away. He joined her.

  It lifted in minutes, after his air unit purified the atmosphere in his suit. His stimulated cells drank oxygen. He sat up. The machine that had chased them was retreating to the middle of the adjacent square, another gleam against the dark plain, under the dark sky. He looked at his blaster’s charge indicator. It stood near zero. He could reload from the powerpack he carried but his life support outfits needed the energy more. Maybe.

  Djana raised herself, fell across his lap and wept.