only one jungle man servicing the area,” Dik pointed out.
“You couldn’t handle it solo,” Mort said. “You’d—”
“Allow me,” said Electro, “to thank you for a most helpful piece of guidance.” He made a sweeping gesture with his left arm. “We have arrived.”
A relatively massive dome of multicolored glaz stood before them. Each panel was three feet square and of a different pastel hue, the frame of the Underground Rapid Transit depot was of dark metal. Vines had long ago climbed high up the structure, flowering plants had followed. Birds perched on the tangle of branches, insects hid among the leaves humming.
“Doesn’t give the impression of being a going concern,” remarked Jana.
“There’s a functional tubetram at this end of the line.” Electro nodded across the high grass of the depot clearing. “I’ve been in touch with the dispatching computer while we’ve been on our hike. Fairly sensible old mechanism, except for a slight touch of amnesia. This tropical climate does it.”
“I doubt there are,” Dik was saying to Mort.
“We’d better check anyway, that’s the Ty-gor style.”
“What’s he beefing about now?” inquired Jerry.
“We have to precede these folks into the depot,” said Mort, pointing at the overgrown edifice. “To confront any perils which might be lurking within.”
His jungle man brother studied the building as they all came downhill toward it. “We’re not noted for indoor work.”
“Wasn’t Dad always stumbling on some lost city or other?”
“This isn’t a lost city, it’s a lost subway terminal,” said Jerry. “For that matter, it isn’t really very lost since everybody seems to know it’s here.”
“We’re quite capable of fending for ourselves from here onward,” said Electro.
“Notice the windows are covered with vegetation and dirt,” said Mort. “Making for gloomy conditions inside, a perfect place for trouble to be lurking.”
The metal and glaz doorway was twenty feet wide and equally high. Its once-handsome metal and glaz doors were sprung from their hinges and hung at broken-wing angles.
“Think there really might be trouble in there?” Tad asked the girl.
“Rodents or snakes maybe.”
“The dispatcher assured me there are no major hazards, though his memory problem may have kept him from telling me all.” The robot strode toward the shadowy threshold.
Mort went sprinting past him. “Me first. Better let a Ty-gor check things out.” He bounded inside and was lost to view.
The robot remained on the edge of entering.
“At last, at last! Our prayers have been answered!, 0, praise St. Reptillicus and the blessed bones—”
“Less religious fervor and more action!”
“Oof!”
Several old and quavery voices could be heard inside the old depot dome, along with the sounds of a scuffle.
“Wouldn’t you know it? The first mark in months and he doesn’t even have any pockets.”
Pink!
Electro had snapped his fingers. “That must be what the dimwitted computer was trying to remember,” he said. “Muggers.”
“You think Mort is being set upon by a gang of muggers?” asked Jerry.
Electro took a step into the interior. “Approximately a dozen of them are—”
“Bangalla! Bangalla!”
“Bangalla! Bangalla!”
The remaining Ty-gors ran inside.
“Should we help?” Tad joined the robot, trying to see what was going on inside the dimly lit URT depot.
Dust was rising in the far right corner of the murky place. Tad could make out, in the thin stripes of tinted sunlight which made it through the dome, a gang of lizard men, catmen and humans swarming over the triplets.
“Observe more carefully,” advised Electro.
Tad did. “Hey, those muggers are all old men.”
“Ancient. They must be the original muggers, here since the depot opened two decades ago.”
“They’re wearing out,” Tad said. “Listen to the way some of them are wheezing. It’s sad.”
“The one with the wheeze is
“You couldn’t handle it solo,” Mort said. “You’d—”
“Allow me,” said Electro, “to thank you for a most helpful piece of guidance.” He made a sweeping gesture with his left arm. “We have arrived.”
A relatively massive dome of multicolored glaz stood before them. Each panel was three feet square and of a different pastel hue, the frame of the Underground Rapid Transit depot was of dark metal. Vines had long ago climbed high up the structure, flowering plants had followed. Birds perched on the tangle of branches, insects hid among the leaves humming.
“Doesn’t give the impression of being a going concern,” remarked Jana.
“There’s a functional tubetram at this end of the line.” Electro nodded across the high grass of the depot clearing. “I’ve been in touch with the dispatching computer while we’ve been on our hike. Fairly sensible old mechanism, except for a slight touch of amnesia. This tropical climate does it.”
“I doubt there are,” Dik was saying to Mort.
“We’d better check anyway, that’s the Ty-gor style.”
“What’s he beefing about now?” inquired Jerry.
“We have to precede these folks into the depot,” said Mort, pointing at the overgrown edifice. “To confront any perils which might be lurking within.”
His jungle man brother studied the building as they all came downhill toward it. “We’re not noted for indoor work.”
“Wasn’t Dad always stumbling on some lost city or other?”
“This isn’t a lost city, it’s a lost subway terminal,” said Jerry. “For that matter, it isn’t really very lost since everybody seems to know it’s here.”
“We’re quite capable of fending for ourselves from here onward,” said Electro.
“Notice the windows are covered with vegetation and dirt,” said Mort. “Making for gloomy conditions inside, a perfect place for trouble to be lurking.”
The metal and glaz doorway was twenty feet wide and equally high. Its once-handsome metal and glaz doors were sprung from their hinges and hung at broken-wing angles.
“Think there really might be trouble in there?” Tad asked the girl.
“Rodents or snakes maybe.”
“The dispatcher assured me there are no major hazards, though his memory problem may have kept him from telling me all.” The robot strode toward the shadowy threshold.
Mort went sprinting past him. “Me first. Better let a Ty-gor check things out.” He bounded inside and was lost to view.
The robot remained on the edge of entering.
“At last, at last! Our prayers have been answered!, 0, praise St. Reptillicus and the blessed bones—”
“Less religious fervor and more action!”
“Oof!”
Several old and quavery voices could be heard inside the old depot dome, along with the sounds of a scuffle.
“Wouldn’t you know it? The first mark in months and he doesn’t even have any pockets.”
Pink!
Electro had snapped his fingers. “That must be what the dimwitted computer was trying to remember,” he said. “Muggers.”
“You think Mort is being set upon by a gang of muggers?” asked Jerry.
Electro took a step into the interior. “Approximately a dozen of them are—”
“Bangalla! Bangalla!”
“Bangalla! Bangalla!”
The remaining Ty-gors ran inside.
“Should we help?” Tad joined the robot, trying to see what was going on inside the dimly lit URT depot.
Dust was rising in the far right corner of the murky place. Tad could make out, in the thin stripes of tinted sunlight which made it through the dome, a gang of lizard men, catmen and humans swarming over the triplets.
“Observe more carefully,” advised Electro.
Tad did. “Hey, those muggers are all old men.”
“Ancient. They must be the original muggers, here since the depot opened two decades ago.”
“They’re wearing out,” Tad said. “Listen to the way some of them are wheezing. It’s sad.”
“The one with the wheeze is
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