Infinity's Shore by David Brin Page A

remember?
You
must’ve wrecked its ears in the ambush, when you ripped out its antenna thing!”
    â€œWell … try again. Tell it I might … have a way to get across a stream.”
    Rety stared down at him, gripped by snakelike arms. “You tried to kill it a while back, an’ now you’re offerin’ to help?”
    He grimaced. “It beats dying, wandering in its clutches till the sun burns out. I figure there’s food and medicine on the flying boat. Anyway, I’ve heard so much about these alien humans. Why should you get all the fun?”
    She couldn’t tell where he stopped being serious, and turned sarcastic. Not that it mattered. If Dwer’s idea proved useful, it might soften the way Kunn treated him.
    And me
, she added.
    â€œOh, all right.”
    Rety spoke directly to the machine, as she had been taught.
    â€œDrone Four! Hear and obey commands! I order you to let us down so’s we can haggle together about how to pass over this here brook. The prisoner says he’s got a way mebbe to do it.”
    The robot did not respond at first, but kept cruising between two high points, surveying for any sign of a crossing. But finally, the humming repulsors changed tone as metal arms lowered Dwer, letting him roll down a mossybank. For a time the young man lay groaning. His limbs twitched feebly, like a stranded fish.
    More than a little stiff herself, Rety hoisted her body off the upper platform, wincing at the singular touch of steady ground. Both legs tingled painfully, though likely not as bad as Dwer felt. She got down on her knees and poked his elbow.
    â€œHey, you all right? Need help gettin’ up?”
    Dwer’s eyes glittered pain, but he shook his head. She put an arm around his shoulder anyway as he struggled to sit. No fresh blood oozed when they checked the crusty dressing on his thigh wound.
    The alien drone waited silently as the young man stood, unsteadily.
    â€œMaybe I can help you get across water,” he told the machine. “If I do, will you change the way you carry us? Stop for breaks and help us find food? What d’you say?”
    Another long pause—then a chirping note burst forth. Rety had learned a little Galactic Two during her time as an apprentice star child. She recognized the upward sliding scale meaning yes.
    Dwer nodded. “I can’t guarantee my plan’ll work. But here’s what I suggest.”
    It was actually simple, almost obvious, yet she looked at Dwer differently after he emerged from the stream, dripping from the armpits down. Before he was halfway out, the robot edged aside from its perch
above Dwer’s head.
It seemed to glide down the side of the young hunter’s body until reaching a point where its fields could grip solid ground.
    All the way across the river, Dwer looked as if he wore a huge, eight-sided hat, wafting over his head like a balloon. His eyes were glazed and his hair stood on end as Rety sat him down.
    â€œHey!” She nudged him. “You all right?”
    Dwer’s gaze seemed fixed far away. After a few duras though, he answered.
    â€œUm … I … guess so.”
    She shook her head. Even Mudfoot and yee had ceasedtheir campaign of mutual deadly glares in order to stare at the man from the Slope.
    â€œThat was
so
weird!” Rety commented. She could not bring herself to say “brave,” or “thrilling” or “insane.”
    He winced, as if messages from his bruised body were just now reaching a dazed brain. “Yeah … it was all that. And more.”
    The robot chirruped again. Rety guessed that a triple upsweep with a shrill note at the end meant—
That’s enough resting. Let’s go!
    She helped Dwer onto a makeshift seat the robot made by folding its arms. This time, when it resumed its southward flight, the two humans rode in front with Mudfoot and little yee, sharing body heat