Rivets and Sprockets (9 page)

Other than the bottle-shaped workers, and the robot birds, there was no sign of life. Underground Mars seemed to be inhabited only by machines.

“I'll be blessed!” the doctor finally exclaimed. “Sprockets, call Ilium and Leli and tell them—”

“I'm talking to Ilium now,” Sprockets said hastily. “They've discovered the power source. It's a dilly!”

Ilium, Leli, and Rivets were all talking at once. “There's not another like it in the Galaxy,” Ilium was singing. And Rivets was exclaiming: “All red and
huge
. Must be a mile across, or anyway
yards
and
yards
and
yards
—” and Leli was adding: “A dozen passages meet here, all different colors—and we've found the one that leads to the Something! We want you to come here as quickly as you can. It will be much better if we call on the Something together.”

Sprockets could feel his circuits tingling. “But how can we find you, Leli?”

“Get on one of the conveyances—be sure it's a red one—and it will bring you straight here.”

“There are conveyances?”

“Of course! Haven't you seen one yet?”

“Does it go
beep-beep-beep?
”

“No, but we've heard something that does. The conveyances are little automatic cars that stop beside you and tinkle. They save a purplish lot of walking. Blue tinklers follow blue passages—red tinklers follow red. Hurry and catch a red tinkler. We are so glowingly, spectrumly excited we can hardly wait!”

Sprockets turned quickly to the doctor. “Sir, Ilium and Leli are practically at the door of the Something, and they want us to join them immediately. Leli says that we can reach them easily by catching a red tinkler.”

“And what is a red tinkler?”

Sprockets hastily explained about tinklers. “We should find one down the valley, sir. They seem to be waiting by every passage.”

“I'll ride in anything that doesn't
beep,
” said Jim.

They hurried down into the valley, searching for a tinkler. One of the little bottle-shaped workers skittered respectfully out of their way, and went humming up the side of a house with a sponge in its wiggling snoot. No one saw the tinkler until it drew up beside them, its tiny bell tinkling invitingly.

It was shaped like a long peapod, and made of shiny plastic like the houses. There were four seats in it. It floated a foot above the ground on nothing at all—probably, thought Sprockets, on an invisible power wave sent out from the power source.

“Hey,” said Jim, “this tinkler's black. We're supposed to catch a red one—but I don't see one anywhere.”

“Maybe we'd better ride in this till we find a red one,” said the doctor. “It might save time.”

Something told Sprockets that a black tinkler was definitely not the one they should take. But the doctor and Jim were already trying to wedge themselves aboard, and the tinkler was tinkling impatiently and beginning to move. Sprockets leaped inside, and the tinkler shot away so fast they were almost jerked from their narrow seats.

“W-wow! W-where are we going?” Jim cried, as the houses streaked past in a blur and everything suddenly darkened around them.

“We're in a tunnel now,” Sprockets said uneasily. “A black tunnel. I think we've taken the wrong tinkler.”

“We've got to stop it!” cried the doctor. “Quick, how do you stop it, Sprockets?”

“You're supposed to push a button in front of the seat,” said Sprockets. “But there's no button here.”

“T-there are no b-buttons anywhere!” Jim panted. “If we can't stop it, we'd better jump!”

“No!” cried Sprockets. “We're going fifty miles an hour. Don't you
dare
jump till I can slow it someway.”

Sprockets' metal fingers tore frantically at the strip of plastic under his feet. There must be wires, or possibly power tubes, somewhere in the tinkler that he could loosen.

As he struggled he was aware of areas of color flashing past, and realized they must be lighted passages crossing their route. The strip of plastic began to bend. Suddenly it snapped. Sprockets called out: “Turn on your force globes! Get ready to jump when I slow it!” The force globes should help cushion their fall.

His exploring hands touched metal. Instantly a horrid jolt went through him. Sparks flashed. Green fires danced around him, and his circuits began to heat so quickly that it was all he could do to gasp, “It's slowing—jump as soon as you can—”

A robot must protect his master even though it completely sizzles his circuits. Poor Sprockets knew he was bound to be sizzled in a matter of seconds, but he tightened his fingers and managed to hang on until he saw the doctor and Jim leap to safety. Then he blanked out.

When Sprockets was able to blink his eye lights again, the tinkler had stopped and everything was still black around him. He wondered what had stopped the tinkler, and discovered that the piece of metal he'd been holding had finally come loose. And just in time, he thought, or a little robot named Sprockets Bailey would have been melted to an unrecognizable lump, right in the middle of black nowhere.

He sat up weakly, and realized that the buttons he'd been using had automatically clicked off when his circuits started to sizzle. He turned on his radio button—and immediately flicked it off again with a yelp. “O-o-o-oh! My poor blistering circuits,” he moaned.

It would be impossible to use any of his buttons until he cooled. Without the help of his buttons, matters could be difficult.

But his positronic clock was still working, and he was surprised to find that only a half hour had passed since the doctor and Jim had leaped to safety. They couldn't be too far away.

Slowly, stiffly, he got out of the black tinkler and turned around, expecting to see only blackness ahead. Instead, the passage was clearly lighted with a soft green glow.

Incredulously, Sprockets looked back in the direction the tinkler was pointed. There everything was black again. He jerked around and walked a few steps forward. He was astounded to discover that the passage was always black in one direction, and always green in the other.

“My goodness!” he exclaimed, blinking worriedly. “Why must this be so confusing?”

Without the help of his cerebration button, it took poor Sprockets' overheated brain nine full seconds to figure out the reason for the reversible colors, which he decided all the passages must have. This was so you couldn't get lost in the tangle of Martian passages. If you started out for a pink destination, the way would always be pink till you got there. If you had to return to a yellow place, the right direction would always be yellow.

He could imagine all sorts of interesting places where the different colors might lead, but he refused to think about the black passage. Some things, he decided, are much better unthought.

Thankful that he was not color-blind, Sprockets began trudging back toward the valley as fast as his aching legs could carry him. Each step sent a jolt through his quivering circuits, and he wished he could be safely home, so Mrs. Bailey could put an ice pack on his head.

What could have happened to Jim and the doctor? There was no sign of them as far down the green passage as he could see. Presently he reached the first cross passage, and paused a moment to study it. It had a blue glow on the right, but the glow changed to red when he looked to the left. The power source itself was red—and Leli had said to take a red tinkler to reach it.

Sprockets hesitated. Could the doctor have turned left here to search for Ilium and Leli?

His hand crept to his radio button. “Turn it on,” he told himself. “Go on—you've just
got
to!”

But he didn't turn it on. A sudden sound in the distance made him stiffen with alarm.

Beep! Beep-beep! Beep! B-e-e-e-p
!

The Beeper was coming straight toward him, fast.

9

They Are Abbled and Plated

Sprockets flattened against the wall of the black passage. The Beeper rushed humming up to the cross passageway, and stopped short with a questioning
beep
. It was a jointed beetlelike machine on ten rubbery wheels, larger than a tinkler. It looked extremely fierce with its single eye, and its wide upcurving scoop, like a snout in front.

The eye turned this way and that, glaring. The scoop swung that way and this, as if horribly eager to scoop something. Sprockets remained motionless, not daring to budge a cog. He hoped the Beeper didn't have hearing, for surely it would notice his ticking. Suddenly, with a loud whir, the Beeper spun around and looked back down the length of the green passage. It beeped angrily as if it had missed seeing and scooping whatever it was after, spun about again, and charged noisily past into the blackness.

Instantly Sprockets darted around the corner into the red passage, and began to run. His circuits were cooler now, and he should have been able to run like a flash, but his feet dragged strangely and it was all he could do to trot. “Oh, dear me,” he said plaintively, “what can be wrong? My battery can't be down already.”

But it
was
his battery, and no question about it. The black tinkler must have drained it in some way. He would have thought the awful shock it gave him would have had the opposite effect. Maybe Martian power worked backward.

He had only a minute or two left to find a safe spot where he could lie down and recharge. And there wasn't a hiding place in sight.

At that moment he heard the Beeper returning.

“Oh, goodness, goodness,” Sprockets moaned, “I'm going to be scooped for sure this time. This is what happened to the doctor and Jim. They must have been scooped too.”

Beeping furiously, the Beeper whirled around the corner into the red passage and rushed upon him, its scoop working eagerly. Sprockets tried to run. He could not. His dragging feet stumbled, and he fell against the side of the passage. His hands beat desperately against the hard stone as if he would somehow force an opening where there was none.

Miraculously, a section of the stone wall slid aside, just as the rock door of the air lock had done when Rivets had knocked politely upon it.

Sprockets tottered through the opening, too weak to feel any surprise. The section of stone slid quickly back in place, shutting out the angry beeping in the passage.

Around him now was more noise, and a great deal of movement. Things hummed, whirled, clanged, and thumped. Other things hissed, buzzed, rang, and went ratty-tat-tat. Something snatched at him, and he was lifted up and carried away.

Oh, mercy me! thought Sprockets. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.…

It was Sprockets' last thought. There was a click as his battery shut off for recharging. His eye lights went out, and he knew nothing more for much too long an interval.

Six hours, fifty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds later, which is the proper time for a robot's atomic battery to recharge itself—unless he has had too many jellifying jolts, in which case it might take twice as long—there was a sudden click and Sprockets sat up, blinking his eye lights rapidly.

His first thought was that he felt positively super.

His second thought, which came instantly after the first, was that he had no business being in some kind of Martian repair shop, where a small buzzing machine was trying to polish him.

His third thought, which came as he bounced to his feet and whirled away from the polishing machine, was that he must locate Dr. Bailey and Jim immediately.

As he ran through the shop, he turned on his radio button and cried out: “Dr. Bailey! Dr. Bailey! Sprockets calling! Can you hear me, sir?”

“Thank heaven!” came the doctor's worried voice. “I was afraid the tinkler had done for you. What happened?”

“The tinkler almost did for my battery, sir. I've just finished recharging, and now I'm trying to find my way out of a repair shop. Where are you, sir?”

“I'll be bottled if I know!” The doctor sounded completely flumdiddled and flummoxed, and slightly abbled. “I'm thoroughly and completely flumdiddled and flummoxed by bottles,” he announced, and Sprockets could picture his mop of white hair flopping wildly in all directions. “If I don't get out of this dumdiddled be-bottled place, I'm going to be worse than abbled. That blankety-blankety bottle-brained Beeper—”