Petrolea 6d

He frowned up at her. “No going home or no comfort?”

“No harming mechanoids,” she said, watching the Dragonlets. Fed and satisfied, they had curled up on the other side of the hangar and gone to sleep. “Which you must continue to do until you are off Petrolea.”

Victor marched his slave-factors into the still. “Until we exploiters are off Petrolea?” He snorted. “And you will stay here, the Princess of the Robot Jungle? Breathing what, the fumes of good ecological karma?”

“I see you’re feeling better.” Feroza was rather impressed with how level she kept her voice. “I am beginning to think I should have ridden the Dragon back down the mountain.”

“I’m just trying to solve problems,” said Victor. “That’s all I’m ever doing. Solving problems. And people seem to hate me for it.”

The slave-factors emerged from the rattling still. Feroza stepped aside as they scuttled toward Victor, carrying little bits of metal and plastic.

“Sometimes people don’t want their problems solved,” she said.

“Nonsense. If you don’t want to solve a problem, then it isn’t a problem. That’s what the word ‘problem’ means.”

The factors swarmed over Victor’s suit, affixing patches with inhuman speed and precision.

“Sometimes the solution is worse.” Feroza gestured at the little slave-creatures. “I know you didn’t just invent these uses for Petrolean life at the drop of a hat. Al-Onazy was planning this. Xanadu was planning this. Not content with draining the petroleum blood from this biosphere, he wants to enslave it to his purposes.”

“Would you stop saying ‘enslave’? You can’t enslave a machine to do what it was designed for,” said Victor. “Why do you think those ancient aliens put the mechanoids here?”

“Why are any of us here? Not to be destroyed by someone more powerful, certainly.”

Victor laughed, which was probably better than the reaction she’d been aiming for.