"Enter!" repeats the translation of the blue mechanoid's orders.

Toxica nods to her team, and they proceed into the mirrored building. An entourage of robotic escorts follows their movements with mechanical precision.

Kro'khan's compound eyes study the mechanoids thoroughly. "These robots are doing a good job of keeping themselves well maintained. The humidity on this planet is stifling. I'm sure it wouldn't take long for rust to form of these robots if they neglected themselves."

"The air is heavy too," pants Yaundorr between shallow breaths. "I'm having a hard time breathing."

Kro'khan points an antenna of concern toward his Yazirian comrade, whose lank body is sagging with fatigue. Yazirians are usually accustomed to low gravity worlds; the heavy gravity and high air pressure must be hardest for him.

Paaglo changes the subject. "So Kro'khan, you think these robots try to spend most of their free time in a climate controlled environment?"

"The distortion in the heat waves is evidence enough," replies the Vrusk science officer. "There must be a gigantic refrigerated area underground. The robots would benefit from lower humidity, but I was thinking of something else with regards to the temperature."

"What's that?" asks Paaglo with a mix of politeness and curiosity.

"This 'Unimind' the robots mentioned, I'm assuming its a computer. Most computers tend to fail at higher temperatures. A search of the climate controlled areas may very well lead us to the Unimind."

Yaundorr smiles mischievously as he catches on to the next logical step in Kro'khan's discussion. "And if we can deactivate this climate control, we may have found the Unimind's weakness."

Toxica passes the others a warning glance. "The walls have ears," she hisses under her breath.

The team continues into the building as if nothing has happened.

The interior walls surrounding you are completely mirrored, and around the entrance area is a border of carved leaves, the only decoration you have seen so far on this world.

On the left is a cluster of clear plastic tubes, some only a few feet high, others going almost to the top of the enormous lobby.

Your eyes travel to the ceiling above you; it must be fifteen meters high!

The tubes, which range in diameter from the size of a pencil to about 4 meters, are filled with brightly colored liquids. Inside the liquids are seashells, sand and pebbles. Other tubes contain chunks of natural-looking crystals and golden ball bearings. Some even have pieces of dried vegetation.

To the right is a different sort of display. At first, you think it is a delegation of officials. But as you look more closely, you realize it is a grotesque graveyard of deactivated robots. Each has been painted a flat black--even across its lenses and sensors.

The display changes from right to left. The right-most robots are bipedal with two arms, and are about your size. As the dismal display progresses to the left, the deactivated robots become more specialized: multi-armed, taller or shorter, with shapes that don't resemble anything closely biological.

The shrill beeping of the blue robot stops your musings. It must want you to move on.

You follow the blue robot across the lobby into another mirrored hall and up a ramp. Through an open arch, you see an aquarium.

The wall of the aquarium is also the wall of the room. It contains clear water without fish of any sort, but the bottom seems to be a replica of an ocean bottom. Rocks, sand and tiny clusters of crystals are scattered all over it.

A spherical vessel is floating in the tank.

The small machine is quickly and agilely picking up nodules of minerals from the bottom with four tiny waldoes extending from its lower part. Each nugget is lifted to the top of the robot and deposited into a hole. In seconds, all the nodules are gathered up. The top hatch of the undersea robot snaps shut; water is pumped out, and the machine pops toward the surface.

It is climbing out as another load of nodules is dumped into the tank. A second undersea mechanism drops into the tank with a foam of air bubbles. It is similar to, but not identical with, the first harvester.

Though the blue robot does not move, you have a feeling it is impatient.

"You seem a bit preoccupied," notes Paaglo, seeing that Toxica has devoted most of her attention to her chronocom.

"I'm working on a few backup plans," she explains in a low voice. "Luckily the robots aren't jamming my chronocom signal to the Opsrey computer."

"What kind of plans did you have in mind?" asks the Dralasite.

"First of all, I've prepared a quick distress message we can transmit through the Opsrey's subspace radio. It will be several days before someone can get here from Clarion, so we'd better plan on lasting at least that long."

"The message is a good idea," mumbles Yaundorr under his breath. "The thought of being alone out here doesn't thrill me."

"The second backup plan is a bit more drastic," continues the Human. "I'm hoping that with time I can develop an algorithm in the Osprey's computer that's similar to those drive overload self destruct program's the Sathar are known to have. I wouldn't want to use it, but having such a powerful weapon in our possession may provide us with some leverage."

"So where do you think we are?" asks Yaundorr.

"I'd say this is probably the robots' central headquarters," suggest Kro'khan. "It seems to be in the center of the city, and it contains, among other things, an exhibit of the robots' history. Those water tanks might mean this building is also used as a research facility."

"But where are the people who built it?" demands Yaundorr. "Did they put those dead robots in the building, or did the robots?"

The blue robot leads you through a complicated maze of corridors. You pass through areas where there are no halls--just open complexes of rooms. Most of the rooms are loaded with unfamiliar machinery and instruments. There are areas in which a robot stands absolutely motionless, or identical units face each other in a circle.

You've never seen anything so alien before--so mechanical-looking and dead. It's scary.

Paaglo's rubbery skin ripples with a shiver. "Brr. It's getting chilly."

Kro'khan checks his toxy-rad gauge. "Fifteen degrees Celsius," reports the Vrusk. "If I'm right, there should be some banks of computers nearby, since they need a lower temperature to operate."

The corridor curves sharply and then begins winding in tight "S" curves. Suddenly it widens into a chamber filled with machinery and robots that move and click furiously.

You recognize some of the pieces as chemical analysis equipment, but others are alien to you. None of the busy mechanoids pay attention to your party as you pass through.

You have noticed that the last few groups of robots you have passed have been working on something they seem to be in a very big hurry to complete.

Yaundorr can hold back his confusion no longer. He pushes the shoulder of the blue robot with his artificial limb. "Just what do you and your fellow metal heads have against biological organisms? You were probably built by one!"

"Negative!" comes the immediate translated reply of the robot. "I was brought to awareness by the MK-140 master circuit ten mega-cycles ago. I can trace my development through three prototypes, five upgradings, and fourteen working models since the conception. My level of sophistocation is beyond any engineering capabilities of biological intelligence!"

"Whole generations of robots built by other robots!" says Yaundorr. "You've had plenty of time to corrupt your original programmi--"

Two robots snatch Yaundorr up at his sides, cutting off his last sentence. The Yazirian doesn't even have time to protest before he is carried through an opening made by a wall that slides open. The wall slides shut behind him, giving the rest of you only a brief glimpse of a number of strange plants beyond it.

Paaglo slams ids body against one of the robots, but the robot doesn't even budge. Paaglo falls back to the floor, grunting in pain.

"Where have you taken him?" demands Toxica of the robots.

There is no reply.