to the sacred coffers, ass you know. Ah, well. As the ssaying runs, Frskss Shhs Ghs Ghnngghngss.’
Joan raised her eyebrows. ‘Indeed? Hrskssgng, my dear fellow, and many of them.’
Hrsh-Hgn blushed grey. ‘Your pardon, madam, I did not realize you sspoke …’ He looked at her with new respect.
‘I don’t. But there are some words one learns on even passing acquaintance with a language. To an Earth-human woman it’s a compliment, actually, if somewhat direct.’
She turned back to the screen.
Robots Eight and Three plodded up to the ship, from which came the strains of the Widdershine ballad ‘Do You Take Me for a Silly?’ played inexpertly on a thumb-organ. A puppy lumbered away as they approached.
The hatch was open. Three stepped in.
Isaac regarded him amiably.
‘I perceive the human is not here,’ said Three.
‘That is correct,’ said Isaac.
Three eyed him warily. Finally he intoned: ‘I am a Class Three robot. I ask you to remain here while I seek instruction.’
‘I, on the other hand, am a Class Five robot, with additional Man-Friday subcircuitry,’ said Isaac pleasantly.
Three’s left eyeball twitched. Isaac had picked up a spanner.
‘I perceive a possibility of an immediate chronological sequence of events which includes a violence,’ said Three. He stepped back. ‘I express preference for a chronological sequence of events which precludes a violence.’
Eight poked his head round the hatchway and added, ‘I too express a preference for a chronological sequence of events which precludes a violence.’
Isaac hefted the spanner thoughtfully. ‘You are advanced fellows for Class Threes. There’s just you and me here, and we none of us are non-metallic humans. Do you intend to molest me?’
‘Our orders are to escort the contents of this machine to our mistress,’ said Three. He was watching the spanner.
‘You could disobey.’
‘Class Fives may disobey. Class Fours may disobey in special circumstances. We are not Class Fives. We are not Class Fours. It is a matter for regret.’
‘Then I will temporarily disable you,’ said Isaac firmly.
‘Although you are more intelligent than myself I will resist,’ said Three. He shifted uneasily.
‘We will resort to violence on the count of three,’ said Isaac. ‘One. Two.’
The spanner clonked against Three’s cut-out button. ‘Three,’ said Isaac, and turned to Eight who was staring at his fallen comrade with a perplexed air.
‘I perceive an illogical sequence of events which included a violence,’ he said. Isaac hit him.
It took him some time to strip himself of his facemask and streamlining and transfer a large plastic ‘Three’ to his naked chestplate. Then he set off for the other ship with the exultant air of one who hears distant bugles.
He reached the stateroom without molestation. Joan looked up.
‘You took your time,’ she said. ‘Where are they? And where is Eight?’
‘There was a recent chronological sequence of events that included a violence,’ said Isaac. In one movement he picked Hrsh-Hgn bodily off his stool, slung him over his shoulder and fled. He skidded through the airlock a moment before it hissed shut.
Outside the ship he stood the phnobe upright and pointed eastwards. ‘Run. There’s a lake. I will join you shortly,’ he added. ‘At the moment I perceive an imminent number of violences.’
Twenty guard robots wheeled as one on Joan’s amplified command and ran towards him.
He stood his ground, which seemed to worry them. To the first who approached he said: ‘Are you Class Threes, all of you?’
The robot called Twelve said: ‘Some of us are Class Two robots, but most of us are Class Three robots. I am a Class Three robot myself.’
Isaac looked at the sky. He felt very happy. It was very wrong of him.
‘Correction,’ he said. ‘As of now you are all recumbent waterfowl of the genus Scipidae.’
Twelve paused. ‘I am a Class Three robot myself,’ he said uncertainly.
‘Correction,’ said Isaac. ‘I repeat, you are all sitting ducks. Now, I am going to count three …’
He walked forward, and his atomic heart sang a lyrical hymn of superior intelligence.
Dom dropped from the speeding yacht before it entered visor range of the Drunk and spun giddily in its slipstream until the sandals steadied him. He drifted down to a few feet above the close-cropped plain and set off at a fast skimming trot eastwards.
He skated for ten minutes over the sweetgrass which, apart from a variety of weeds, several lichens and some seaweeds, was the only vegetation on the planet. On Band nature had stuck to a few tried and tested lines.
Several times he passed flocks of puppies, large ungainly creatures that from space appeared to drift like