“That’s okay, George. I think we’ll be fine now.” The elevator door opened and all the men stepped into the conveyance. The door closed. George reached out and pressed one button. The elevator began to move—not down or up as the men expected, but away from the chamber where they had fought the airbot.
“What’s wrong with these men?” asked one of the miners. “They’re completely unconscious and their arms and legs are swinging around like they’re puppets or something.”
“They’re just out temporarily, not hurt,” answered Joe. “Airbots disrupt certain neural connections to bring on sleep and complete relaxation of all muscle functions. I’m not sure how high the airbot’s beam was set, but I’d guess pretty high. They’ll probably sleep for several hours but they’ll be fine when they wake up.”
“What did you do to that machine that was chasing us?” asked another of St. George’s companions.
“I didn’t do anything to it. I don’t know what happened to it,” answered Zip. “I suppose it malfunctioned. Lucky for us.” Joe and Mark both glanced sidelong at Zip, then looked away. The Starmen knew that whatever had happened to the airbot, a malfunction was not one of the possibilities.
Another of the miners spoke up. “I’ve never been on an elevator that moved horizontally before. Where are we going, George? This transit is taking longer than just moving between floors.”
“The elevators inside this rock can move in just about any direction except slantindicular. If I remembered accurately, this one’ll take us to a control and information center of some kind. I don’t know where it is in relation to where we started, but we should be safe there and if I don’t forget where we come out, I can always get us back to the warehouse if we want to return.”
The elevator came to a stop and the door opened onto darkness. As before, the elevator light illumined a small space, in which the men could see a few counters. When the first passenger debarked, soft lights went on. The illumination revealed a room of about 2,000 square feet, filled with viewscreens, computer stations, cabinets and shelves, tables and chairs, and a few sofas. At least a dozen doors led from the room. The four unconscious men were laid carefully down onto the sofas.
“What is this place?” Zip asked St. George.
“Haven’t any idea, Starman. I don’t mind pushing buttons at random when it comes to elevators, but you won’t find me playing with any machine I don’t understand. I don’t want to find the ejection seat or rocket launchers by accident.”