Bolts by Alexander Key

It’s sure a king-size mouthful! Reckon I’d better call you Slim. I’m Bolts—Bolts Brown, that is. You got me kinda loopy with all these flowers. Where’d they come from? You sure didn’t raise ’em here!”
    â€œI made them,” Slim said. “From the glass. There’s no other material available.”
    â€œB—but they can’t be glass! They don’t bust up when you touch ’em—and they bend!”
    â€œOh, it has to be softened. I have my methods. I’m mostly glass myself, you know.”
    â€œNaw!”
    â€œOh, yes. Special glass. I’m bendable, but quite unbreakable and practically indestructible. All my family is the same way, and I expect the oldest one of us is still busy somewhere. I’ll have you know I’m from a long and honorable super-glass line, and naturally would be a great credit to any proper household. But alas, I fear I’m doomed to spend eternity here.”
    â€œFor what?” Bolts asked. “You done something wrong?”
    â€œCertainly not! Did you come here to insult me? The idea! There’s never been the least suspicion of criminal inclinations in any of us.”
    Bolts was becoming confused. “Then how come you’re wasting your time on a runaway asteroid making glass flowers? Ain’t you got nothing better to do?”
    â€œBetter?” Slim exclaimed, aghast. “If one has time to spend, how can it be better spent than in making flowers? I’m afraid you’re from a very low order of beings. A creature that has no appreciation of flowers is lower than an insect, and I refuse to associate with it. As lonesome as I am, I must ask you to leave.”
    â€œAw,” Bolts protested, “I never said nothing against flowers! These are downright triple-extra. What I mean is, did you come here special to make ’em?”
    â€œI came here,” Slim said haughtily, “to mine for glass. This place happens to be the family glass mine.”
    â€œGlass mine! Never heard of such a thing!”
    â€œYou’re distressingly ignorant. Here we mined the basic material for our super-glass. All my family is made from it. We have our own factory, you see.”
    â€œYour own factory! You—you mean you make yourselves?”
    â€œWho else could make us?” Slim raised his head proudly. “Don’t you realize how very special my family is? Each of us comes equipped with a knowledge of the forty-seven most proper languages of the universe. After an apprenticeship in our factory, we are capable of serving anywhere—among proper people, of course. Naturally, we reserve the right to choose our household.” Slim paused, and shook his head sadly. “But I’m afraid my day will never come to serve.”
    â€œBut–but what’s keeping you? Why—”
    â€œUnfortunately,” said Slim, “I am marooned here. It happened, oh, ever so long ago. This asteroid—it was practically next door to the factory—passed through a magnetic storm and went wild. I was all alone on it at the time, and the storm was so great that it was impossible to rescue me. Now, of course, rescue is forever out of the question.”
    At this moment Commander Brown called worriedly on the radio. “Bolts, time’s passing! What’s going on? What have you found?”
    â€œExcuse me, Slim,” said Bolts. “I gotta talk to the big boss. Commander, this critter is a skinny robot, name of Slim, who got marooned here. He’s a wiz with glass, and he needs rescuing bad. Reckon you could make a place for him on Battleship Lane?”
    â€œGreat guns!” cried the commander, very excited. “Where’s he from?”
    â€œA super-glass factory on the other side of nowhere.”
    â€œHeavens above! Are you sure he isn’t dangerous?”
    â€œPshaw, he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
    â€œThen bring him along! This is