"Name?"
"Alyarsmit."
"Smith? Smith?" It buzzed some more. "There was a Colonel John Smith on the roster. Are you his descendant?"
"Yes," Alyar hazarded.
"Mr. Smith, sir, Robojeep twenty-seven four nine reporting. All other jeeps inactivated, sir. No ship's personnel or other passengers accounted for in the last three hundred and seventy-four planetary cycles. Damage to ship unrepairable without human direction. Sporadic raids by savages, possibly degenerate humans, repelled successfully. Will you assume manual control, sir?"
Alyar stuck with "Yes."
"Very well, sir." The Iron Fley descended and walked toward him on six of its legs, then squatted.
He stared at its back. Actually, it didn't have one; it was hollowed out from the top, and in the hollow were—seats! Four of them!
Unable to mistake the meaning, he climbed in and sat down. Nothing happened for a while. Then the creature began to buzz again. "Have you forgotten the controls, sir? The lever on the left is for elevation; the other one for horizontal motion. Would you prefer vocal control?"
"N-no, this is all right."