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whole episode. He knelt to inspect the undercarriage, and found that the bubble-topped rover was no longer sunk in any sort of slush, but was in fact sitting on top of a nice, hard surface of ice.
    He could almost have sworn that he heard the alien clearing its throat.
    /// Um, yes—it did that, too. ///
    Whatever he might have answered was driven from his thoughts by the bounding arrival, over a hummock, of the robot he had seen a few minutes earlier. It was a gangling but speedy machine, an all-purpose recon-assist unit. It moved like a cross between a grasshopper and a roadrunner.
    Its synthesized voice rasped in his helmet comm. "Unit Echo—John Bandicut! Are you unharmed?"
    "Suit—comm on," Bandicut grunted. He felt resistance from within, and snapped, /I have to talk to it, damn it!/
    /// Uh—okay.
    But don't tell it— ///
    /Yeah, yeah, yeah./ He frowned, remembering that the robot was undoubtedly here to find out why he had violated the boundaries of the survey zone. He hadn't yet figured out how to explain that away. "Hi there, uh, Napoleon. Er—yeah, I'm okay. I just...uh, had a little bit of—" What the hell could he say? Silence-fugue? No way. "—er, navigational trouble. I think I'm all right now. But I'm glad you found me." As the robot stepped closer, seeming to examine him with its gleaming holocam eyes, he felt ridiculously embarrassed. It wasn't as if he had to answer to a stupid robot for his excursion across the STOP HERE line. Did he? Of course, this might be an opportunity to tip someone off to what had happened—
    /// Don't. ///
    He exhaled in annoyance. /Why the hell not? /
    /// Because we have something very important
    to do. ///
    /Like what?/ he snarled. /Conquer my...my homeworld?/ It sounded ridiculous, but that was what had popped into his head.
    The quarx sounded weary as it answered,
    /// John Bandicut,
    I have no designs on your homeworld—
    none whatsoever. ///
    /Then what? Seize control of the base here? Throw us off Triton?/ He wasn't sure where he was getting these ideas, but he really couldn't think of anything else that an alien might want to do that would require secrecy.
    /// Not even that.
    My mission here is to be helpful, if I can. ///
    Bandicut squinted at the robot, thinking that he must be making this robot wonder if something really was wrong. /Well, I have to tell the robot something. If you don't want me to tell it the truth, what excuse do you want me to use? I'm open to suggestions. I'm in enough trouble for being here already./
    The alien seemed puzzled.
    /// Must you answer
    to this simple device? ///
    /No, but it's going to send a report back to someone I will have to answer to./
    /// Then tell it...
    you had an electrical malfunction. ///
    /Are you serious?/ Bandicut snorted. /I can't lie about that! They're going to notice that there's nothing wrong with the buggy, when I get back./ As he spoke to the quarx, he was aware of the robot staring back at him, and for an instant he had the humiliating thought that he was moving his lips as he subvocalized to the alien.
    /// You won't...lie.
    Tell it
    you had an electrical malfunction. ///
    He grumbled to himself for a moment, then spoke aloud. "Napoleon, I'm glad you came along. I had a bit of an... electrical problem. Maybe you can help." Wincing at the transparent phoniness of his statement, he cleared his throat.
    /// You already fixed the problem. ///
    "What?" /I mean, what?/
    The robot eased forward, a small display of red lights winking behind its eyes. "John Bandicut, are you certain that you are all right?"
    "Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?" He coughed and moved nervously toward the driver's seat of the buggy.
    The synthesized voice sounded almost chiding. "You sound... anxious. Have you had any unusual...physiological symptoms? Pehaps I should drive the rover in for you."
    " What physiological symptoms? What the hell are you talking about, Nappy?" He felt his voice quavering.
    The robot extended a slender