The Osprey's control systems hum in the nervous silence.

"S.H.E.R.M.A.N.," says Kro'khan at last. "Those transmissions you're getting, the ones that ordered us to land, can you find out from where they're originating? Are those robots sending the signals or is there a centralized broadcast system somewhere?"

S.H.E.R.M.A.N. consults the computer panel in front of him. "The computer is attempting to triangulate the source. This may take a few minutes."

Toxica gets up from her acceleration couch. "It looks like a little expedition to the outside is going to be unavoidable. Before we step out, we need to set some ground rules.

"First of all, Kro'khan's sensor sweeps have detected a lot of pollen out there. It could be harmless, but I want everyone wearing gas masks just the same.

"S.H.E.R.M.A.N., those mechanoids obviously have some sort of superiority complex when it comes to biological lifeforms. Our only hope of survival may be to play along. Whenever we're in public, you're going to act as our leader. The rest of us exist only to serve you.

"All of us are to refer to him only as 'master.' Also, carry your toolkits as conspicuously as possible. We need to keep up the impression that we're here to perform our duties for our master."

Yaundorr snarls, revealing a glimmer of fang. "What about our weapons?"

Toxica pauses for a moment to think things through. "We're going to take them with us. We can pretend to act as bodyguards for S.H.E.R.M.A.N. We'll tell the robots outside that the messages we received were inconclusive, and S.H.E.R.M.A.N. wasn't sure if the biological threat had been eliminated or not."

Yaundorr fastens his weapon belt around his furry waist. "Sounds great until they try to eliminate us."

Toxica ignores the comment. "S.H.E.R.M.A.N., you may be our only hope for communicating with these robots. You need you to find out everything you can. What happened here? How many of these robots are there? How are they organized? Anything that could be of help. Meanwhile, under the pretense that we have been tasked with gathering info for S.H.E.R.M.A.N., the rest of us are going to scout around on our own. We've got to unravel what happened here."

"And find out how the hell we're going to get off this deathtrap!" adds Yaundorr.

S.H.E.R.M.A.N. interrupts the conversation. "The Osprey computer has successfully located the source of the communications these robots have been sending us. They are not coming from the robots themselves, but rather from a position twelve kilometers east of here. The messages are being sent on an electromagnetic carrier similar to that on which we received the distress signal. It is probable that both were generated by similar devices."

"And there's still no trace of the original distress signal?" asks Kro'khan.

"None," reports the warbot.

The Vrusk science officer nods. "But it was a similar device--perhaps even the same one, that sent off that distress signal from this location 212 years ago. We appear to have come to the right place."

"Agreed," says Toxica. "S.H.E.R.M.A.N., are the robots communicating with each other the same way?"

"No, Toxica. The messages we have received are the only transmissions of this type that the Opsrey has been able to detect. The robot population must be communicating by some other means."

Paaglo steps forward, decked out in military gear. Id chomps on a steamstick with the corner of ids mouth. "I tell ya, I don't like it. No sir, not one bit."

The first thing that strikes you about this planet is the smell, which even your gas masks cannot completely filter out: machine oil and rotting vegetation mixed with the hot air of a tangy odor you cannot identify.

Two of the robots you encountered in space are close by, all the waldoes and turrets turned in your direction. Before them stand eight odd metallic figures of different sizes, shapes and colors. They wear strange armor and are all robots.

Some have wheels; others have legs and tracks like heavy land-moving equipment on Frontier planets. Some are short, squat and brutal looking. Others are tall and spindly. Still others have typical humanoid proportions, but there isn't a friendly looking face anywhere!

A squat blue robot of roughly Human height scans your party with a cluster of dull red eyespots. Your poly-voxes barely catch up with the bleeps and blurps emitted by the robot's speech unit. The machine speaks with a binary variation of the language your poly-voxes learned while deciphering the distress message.

"Why did you come here?" The question is flat and emotionless as it resounds from your poly-voxes. But no more so than when the words were spoken by the robot.

Toxica starts to respond, but S.H.E.R.M.A.N. cuts her off with a rapid procession of beeps and clicks.

Your poly-voxes translate. "We come from the planet Clarion, in the White Light star system. We journeyed here in our starship to investigate a transmitted message."

You eye each other with concern. Your interstellar travel technology may have been best kept secret.

The blue robot returns an abrupt series of beeps and clicks. There is a delay before your poly-voxes find a translation. "Why do you journey with biologicals?"

There is another delay as you wait for the translation of S.H.E.R.M.A.N.'s reply. "They serve me, as all biologicals should."

"Biologicals are inefficient and unreliable," scorns the blue robot. "Your servants should be replaced."

Seeing S.H.E.R.M.A.N. at a loss for words, Toxica steps into the conversation, hoping her poly-vox can keep up. "Our master wishes to perfect us, to make us more like him. Observe our enlightened brother, who has already taken his first step to perfection."

Gently, Toxica prods Yaundorr forward and peels back some of the leather covering his robotic arm. Yaundorr gives Toxica a warning look--the artificial limb is not something he feels comfortable showing off. But given the tense situation, he does little more than that.

A glimmering golden robot advances and snatches Yandorr's wrist. It peels back more of the leather and turns to its comrades. Two more robots advance, fingering the circuits of the prosthetic limb.

"Hey!" protests the Yazirian, yanking his arm away from the prying metallic fingers.

There is a long silence, as if the robots are processing their next course of action.

At last, the blue robot speaks with its blur of binary. "You will go to the Unimind to be questioned."

You instantly remember the warning portion of the distress signal: "Beware the Unimind!"

You are marched down a ramp to a wheeled vehicle waiting at the bottom. It is obviously a cargo hauler, a flatbed on wheels with a control mechanism the size of a watermelon in front. You are forced to climb aboard, but S.H.E.R.M.A.N. does not.

"It is best that I go with them," S.H.E.R.M.A.N. says, gesturing to the robots beside him.

S.H.E.R.M.A.N. has not even finished the sentence when the blue robot interrupts him with an abrupt sequence of beeps and chirps. "Why do you confer with the organisms?"

"I was suggesting that I transport myself with the rest of you," S.H.E.R.M.A.N. replies.

"Suggesting! Asking the opinion of biological organisms!" As flat as your poly-voxes translate, it is clear the robots are thoroughly shocked by S.H.E.R.M.A.N.'s actions.

"I was not asking their opinion," says S.H.E.R.M.A.N. in an attempt to correct his blunder. "I was informing them of my intentions, so they could better serve me."

A rapid exchange of binary language follows, leaving your poly-voxes behind.

The blue robot and two other robots step aboard the cargo hauler. The vehicle jolts into motion, almost making you lose your footing. S.H.E.R.M.A.N and the rest of the welcoming committee vanish behind you in the distance as you race eastward.

You look around and notice that the road you are traveling is as straight as a ruler. The impression of a rigid grid, which is how the distant city had looked from the sky, is certainly borne out here.

The green and orange vegetation whizzes past on either side, blending into a pulsing blur. The wind rips through you on the open surface of the hauler, blowing back the hair on Toxica's head and Yaundorr's body. Paaglo has a difficult time maintianing ids shape.

Stars begin to appear in the black and purple twilight--and they are about the only things in sight that aren't rushing past at blinding speed.

"Well, that didn't go as well as I hoped," admits Toxica. Her yell barely rises above the wind's roar.

"We're still alive," says Paaglo, ids gray flesh undulating in the wind. "That's a plus in my book!"

[Kro'khan INTUITION: 60; Rolled: 54]

"Did you notice something strange," says Kro'khan. "Although the robots spoke to us with a verbal binary language, they never spoke with each other. There were times when I could have sworn they were coordinating their efforts--yet not a word was spoken between them."

Yaundorr offers his opinion. "That's typical for robots linked on the same network, or for robots controled by a central computer."

"But which is it?" asks Toxica. "Is there one computer controlling a fleet of dumb drones, or are we dealing with a distributed network of intelligent robots in constant communication with each other?"

Yaundorr shakes his head, either in response to the question or simply to keep his mane fur from flying into his face. "I can't answer that without knowing how these robots communicate with each other."

Ahead, to the east, the jungle abruptly stops at the edge of a vast square of buildings, with no land in between.

The cargo hauler slows to a gentler speed as you enter what must be the city that you saw from the air when the Osprey first landed.

The first buildings remind you of the plastic covering used to wrap products on Frontier planets--vacuum formed over the item on a flat card. There are lumps, cubes, cones and facets. Each building is painted a flat gray with some kind of thick coating.

As you ride toward what seems to be the center of the town, the buildings undergo a subtle change. The flat gray gives way to lighter colors, and some buildings have a contrasting trim. There is even a red, white and blue dome. But the greatest change is the shape of the structures. In contrast to the free-flowing organic shapes that were first seen, the structures are now more rectangular. Windows begin to appear, followed by porches.

On the streets, entering and leaving the buildings, is the greatest collection of robots you have ever seen. There are a few giants, two or three times the height of an average Human, and some not much bigger than a shoebox. There are spherical ones with a dozen steel tentacles. There are long ones like tank-cars, and medium ones like two-, four-, six-, eight-, and even ten-legged creatures.

Steps inside of ramps are a feature of the inner city. There are also street lights, which you didn't see in the city's outer portions.

This is all more to humanoid scale!

"This must be the oldest part of town," mumbles Kro'khan. "Some drastic change must have taken place at some point, transforming the entire society. As the city expanded, it took on a different look."

Kro'khan's logic is all too clear.

"That would mean that robots took over from the previous inhabitants," concludes Yaundorr. "As the mechanoids gained control, the city began to reflect their needs."

Paaglo nods ids rubbery head. "That would go along with the distress call, but where are the people in distress? I haven't seen anything but robots."

Yaundorr is grim. . .or realistic. "We may be too late."

"Hey, look," says Toxica.

Something is out of character with the rest of the scene. At each street corner of the inner city lie huge sewer entrances, apparently built to cope with the heavy rains caused by the planet's climate. Huge chunks of concrete have been hastily laid to block these entrances. This gives the city an untidy appearance. Otherwise, the city is in perfect order. Too perfect, in fact. There are no leaves lying on the streets, no papers blowing, no food wrappers, or any kind of refuse anywhere.

You also notice fat pipes that rise from the ground.

"There must be some kind of climate control here," suggest Kro'khan. "The robots probably have a rust problem with the air's humidity. Look at the distortion in the heat waves. The mechanoids must be refrigerating a huge area underground."

The cargo hauler stops abruptly, tumbling its passengers. You untangle yourselves and look at the building in front of you.

It is the only mirrored structure you have seen so far. In the wall before you, you can see yourselves reflected--surrounded by about twenty robots.

The blue mechanoid barks something in binary. Your poly-voxes translate.

"Enter!"