Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [233]
“We’ve got to get to the camp first,” Han declared as they drew back from the ridge and got to their feet.
“Are you completely vacuum-happy?” Hasti wanted to know. “We’ll get there just in time to go through the meat-grinder!”
“Not if we hurry. Those windup soldiers down there will have to go the long way around; we can run the ridge line if we’re careful and get there first. The Falcon’s our only way off this mud-ball; if we can’t get to her, we’re going to have to tip J’uoch that the robots are on their way, or they’ll rip my ship apart.”
He wished he could figure out why the Survivors were intent on destroying the mining camp and slaughtering its personnel. “Everyone keep up. I’ll go first, then Hasti, Skynx, Badure, Bollux, and Chewie on rearguard.”
Han put the heavy-assault rifle across his shoulders and set off, the others falling into their assigned places. But when Chewbacca beckoned Bollux, the labor ’droid hesitated. “I’m afraid I’m not functioning up to specifications, First Mate Chewbacca. I’ll have to come along as best I can.”
The Wookiee was torn by indecision for a moment, then trotted off after the rest, making it clear with hand motions and growls that Bollux was to come along as quickly as he could. The ’droid watched Chewbacca disappear from view, then opened his chest plastron so that he and Blue Max could speak in vocal-normal mode, as they preferred.
“Now, my friend,” he drawled to the little computer module, “perhaps you’ll explain why you wanted us to stay behind. I practically had to lie to First Mate Chewbacca to do it; we may very well be left behind.”
Max, who had taken in the situation via direct linkage with Bollux, answered simply. “I know how to stop them. The war-robots, I mean; but we’d have to destroy them all to do it. We needed time to talk it over, Bollux.”
And Blue Max related the plan he had conceived. The labor ’droid responded even more slowly than usual. “Why didn’t you mention this before, when Captain Solo was here?”
“Because I didn’t want him to decide! Those robots are doing what they were built to do, just like we are. Is that any reason to obliterate them? I wasn’t even sure I should tell you; I didn’t want you to blow your primary stacks in a decisional malfunction. Wait; what’re you doing?”
The labor ’droid’s chest plastron was swinging shut as he toed the edge of the ridge. “Seeking alternatives,” he explained, stepping off.
Bollux slid and stumbled and plowed his way down the slope to the valley floor, working with heavy-duty suspension of arms and legs to keep from being damaged. At last he came to an awkward stop at the bottom amid a minor avalanche. Standing erect, he approached the war-robots, who waited in their gleaming, exact formation.
The Corps Commander’s cranial turret rotated at Bollux’s advance. A great arm swung up, weapons-apertures opening. “Halt. Identify or be destroyed.”
Bollux replied with the recognition codes and authentication signals he had learned from Skynx’s ancient tapes and technical records. The Corps Commander studied him for a moment, debating whether this strange machine ought to be obliterated, recognition codes or no. But the war-robots’ deliberative circuitry was limited. The weapon-arm lowered again. “Accepted. State your purpose.”
Bollux, with no formal diplomatic programming to draw upon and only his experience to guide him, began hesitantly. “You mustn’t attack. You must disregard your orders; they were improperly given.”
“They were issued through command signalry of the podium.
We must accept. We are programmed; we respond.” The cranial turret rotated to face front again, indicating that the subject bore no further discussion.
Bollux went on doggedly. “Xim