“It’s really quite cozy in here,” Angelina said, slipping into place in the robot. “Is there a closed circuit radio for communication?”

“There is. Circuit thirteen there, a switch near your right hand.”

“I’ve found it,” she said, then her voice spoke into my ear. “You had better lead the way and I’ll give you instructions as we go.”

“Your slightest wish sends me forth.”

I stomped out into the corridor with the robot scuttling after. The severed section of tail had vanished. I kicked and buckled the metal door until it was jammed into its frame, to confuse the pursuit as much as possible, then led the way down the metal corridor.

It was a long, and frankly boring, trip through the metallic city. The aliens did not appear to be good planners and the constructions themselves seemed to have just been added on with little reference to what had come before. One minute we would be walking down a rusty, riveted corridor with a sagging ceiling—and the next would be crossing a mesh-metal field under the open sky. Sometimes the walkways were used as watercourses as well and I would thrash along at great speed propelled by my wildly waving tail. The robot was too heavy for this and could only roll along the bottom. We passed through warehouses, factories—have you ever seen a thousand things like decaying alligators all working drill presses at once?—dormitories, and other locales that defy description. And everywhere were the loathies, chattering away in Esperanto and giving me a big wave as I passed. Very nice. I waved back and muttered curses inside the head.

“I’m getting a little tired of this,” I confided to Angelina on our closed circuit.

“Courage, my brave, we are almost there. Just a few kilometers more.”

A barred gate did eventually appear ahead, guarded by spear-bearing tooth-rattling creatures who began a great noise when I appeared. They banged their spears on the floor and shouted and chomped so strongly that bits of splintered teeth flew in all directions.

“Jeem, Jeem!” they cried. And “Geshtunken forever! Welcome to our noble cause!” They were obviously all fans of the evening news broadcast and had caught my shtick. I raised my claws and waited until the tumult died.

“Thank you, thank you,” I cried. “It is my great pleasure to serve beside nauseating creatures like yourselves, spawn of some loathsome world far out among the decaying stars.” They were prone to flattery and cried aloud for more. “During my brief time here I have seen things that creep, crawl, wriggle and flop, but I must say that you lot are the creepiest, crawlingest, wriggliest and biggest flop I have met yet.” Time out for hoarse shouts of repulsive joy, then I got down to business. “We on Geshtunken have seen only one shipload of pallid-crunchies which we instantly butchered by reflex. I understand you have a whole satellite load of them here. Is that true?”

“It is indeed, Jeem the Sleepery,” one of them spattered. I saw now that it had gold comets screwed into the sides of its head, undoubtedly denoting high rank of some kind. I addressed my questions in its direction.

“That is good news indeed. Are they in here?”

“Indeed they are.”

“You don’t have an old damaged one you don’t need any more for me to disembowel or eat or something?”

“Would that I could to please one as cute as yourself, but, alas, no. All of them are needed for information purposes. And after that the roster is already full, highest rank first, with volunteer disembowelers.”

“Well, too bad. Is there any chance I can get a peep at them? Know your enemy and all that.”

“Just from here. No one is allowed closer without a pass. Just slip an eyeball or two through the bars and you’ll see them over there.”

One of my fake eyeballs on stalks did have a TV pickup in it and I slithered it through and turned up the magnification. Sure enough, there they were. And a scruffy lot too. They shuffled in little circles or lay on the deck, gray-bearded and gaunt, the rags of their uniforms hanging from them. They may have been admirals but I was still sorry for them. Even admirals were human once. They would be freed!

“Thanks indeed,” I said snaking back my eyeballs. “Most kind and I’ll remember you in my report to the War Council.”

I waved as we retreated and they all waved back and with all those flying tentacles it looked like an explosion in the octopus works.

“I am depressed,” I confided to my robot-wife as we rounded the next bend. “No way to get in to them that way.”

“Be of good cheer,” she radioed. “And let’s try the next stairwell. If there is a level below this one then we can penetrate from beneath.”

“My genius,” I said, and clattered my claws lovingly on her metallic shoulder. “That is just what we shall do. And I believe that dead ahead is just what we are looking for. But how will we know when we are under the right spot?”

“We will know because I planted a sonic transponder while you were making your political speech to those slugs.”

“Of course! You had this in mind all the time. If it were anyone else I would be green with jealousy. But I writhe with pleasure at the ingenuity of my little wife.”

“Well, if you do, try not to phrase the praise in such male chauvinist pig terms. Women are as good as men; usually better.”

“I stand chastised, robot mine. Lead the way and I shall follow.” We clattered and bumped down a slime-covered stairway into total darkness. Unused—even better. Angelina switched on some spotlights and we saw a massive metal door ahead that sealed off the foot of the stairs.

“Shall I burn it down?” she asked, poking her head out of the robot for a bit of air. “No. I’m suspicious. Try out your detectors and see if there is any electronic life beneath the surface.”

“Plenty,” she said, sweeping it carefully. “A dozen alarm circuits at least. Shall I neutralize them?”

“Not worth the effort. Scan that wall there. If it’s clear we’ll go in around the door.”

We did. These aliens really were simpleminded. The burned-open wall led to a storeroom and the wall beyond this opened into the chamber the bugged door was supposed to guard. Easy enough to do for even an amateur cracksman and my opinion of the enemy IQ dropped a few more points.

“So this is why they didn’t want anyone cracking in here!” Angelina said, flashing her spotlight around.

“The town treasury,” I yummed. “We must come back and dip into it when we get a chance.”

Mountains of money stretched away in all directions, loot of a hundred worlds. Gold and platinum bars, cut diamonds, coins and notes of a hundred different kinds, money enough to build a bank out of, much less open one. My larcenous instincts were overwhelmed and I kicked open great bags of bullion with my claws and wallowed in the wampum.

“I know that relaxed you,” Angelina said indulgently. “But should we not get on with our rescue operation?”

“Of course. Lead on. I am indeed refreshed.”

She beeped her subsonic beeper and followed the pointing arrow. It led us through the treasure hoard and, after burning down a few more doors and walls, we reached the indicated spot.

“We’re right under a transponder,” Angelina said.

“Good.” I took a careful sight. “Then the barred gate will be here, and the prisoners just about here.” I paced off the distance carefully. “There were some chairs and debris right here, so if we approach from this spot we should be concealed when we come up. Is your drill ready?”

“Whirring and humming.”

“Then that’s the spot. Go.”

The drill arm extended and began grinding into the rusty ceiling. When the drill note changed Angelina switched off all the lights and drilled even slower in the darkness. This time when she dropped the drill a ray of light shone down through the hole. We waited silently—but there was no alarm.