Read Bill 2 - on the Planet of Robot Slaves for Free Online Page B

leaves, red petals, no stamen or pistil. But made of metal. This is made of metal, you idiot. It wasn't growing. It was planted there in the sand by a person or persons unknown.”
    “Yes, Admiral. Shall I show the admiral where the rest of the flowers are growing?”
    He led the way and the others followed. Except for Captain Bly who was still zonked unconscious. Up dune and down dune to a dark patch in the sand where a stand of flowers grew. Praktis snapped one of them with his fingernail and it pinged.
    “Metal. All of them, metal.” He poked a finger into the damp sand, then sniffed it. “And this is not water — smells like oil.” No scientific explanation for the phenomena was forthcoming since he was just as baffled as the others, although he was too pompous to admit it. “The explanation of the phenomena is obvious and a detailed description will be forthcoming as soon as I have completed my investigation. I'll need more specimens. Anyone have a wirecutter?”
    Cy did and he snipped off samples as instructed. Meta quickly had enough of this metallurgical horticulture and went back to their camp. And resumed shouting and shooting. The others joined her and the surviving rats fled into the desert. Praktis scowled at the torn open boxes of supplies.
    “You, Third Lieutenant, get to work. I want the food repacked and rat-proofed at once. Issue orders. But not you, Cy. I want your help. Over this way.”
    Bill seized up a torn plastic container of compressed nutrient bars. Known jocularly to the troops as Iron Rations. Even the rats hadn't been able to dent them; broken rat teeth were stuck in the wrapper. After boiling for twenty-four hours they could be broken with a hammer. Bill searched for something edible and a little more tender. He found some tubes of emergency space rations labeled Yumee-Gunge. The others were watching him intently so he passed the tubes around and they all squeezed and sucked and made retching noises. The gunge was loathsome but promised to sustain life. Although the quality of life that it sustained was open to question. After this repulsive repast they worked together in harmony since the pitiful pile of supplies was all that stood between them and starvation. Or thirsting to death, which is faster.
    They had just finished when Captain Bly groaned and rolled over, sat up and made dry-smacking noises with his mouth. Bill passed him a tube of Yumee-Gunge and he screamed hoarsely when he tasted it. He alternately sucked and groaned, shuddering the entire time. Praktis appeared and bulged his eyes at the performance.
    “Is that stuff really that bad?”
    “Worse,” Bill said and the others nodded solemn agreement.
    “Then I'll pass for the moment. And deliver my scientific report. Those plants with the flowers are alive and growing in the sand. They are not organic carbon-based life as we know it, but are solid metal.”
    “Impossible,” Meta observed.
    “Well, thank you Engine Mate First Class for the scientific information. But I think that I prefer my rather extensive knowledge to yours. There is no reason why a life form cannot be metal instead of carbon based. I can't for a moment think why it would want to — but let us leave this interesting topic for now and pursue the even more interesting one of our staying alive. Report, Third Lieutenant, food and water status.”
    “Food, inedible even by the rats. The water should last about a week with rationing.”
    “Bowb that for a game of darts,” Praktis observed gloomily, sat down heavily and stared unseeingly at the metal flower in his hand. “Not much choice. We stay here and starve for a week then die of thirst. Or we march off in the direction of the lights I saw last night and see what's up. Let's see a show of hands. All for staying and dying.”
    Not a finger twitched and he nodded. “Now — who is for marching out of here?”
    The response was the same. Praktis sighed. “I see that the waters of democracy have