Clifford Simak - The Big Front Yard and Other Stories

He jerked at Meek’s arm.

“Come on, Oliver, we got to get along.”

But Meek jerked his arm away.

“Look what he’s doing!” he shouted. “Just look at him!”

The Prowler seemed to be bent on systematic destruction of the space ship. His jaws were ripping at the steel plating … Ripping at it and tearing it away, peeling it off the frame as one might peel an orange.

“Hey,” howled Stiffy. “You can’t do that. Get out of there, you danged …”

The Prowler turned to look at them, a heavy power cable in its mouth.

“You’ll be electrocuted,” yelped Stiffy. “Danged if it won’t serve you right.”

But, far from being electrocuted, the Prowler seemed to be enjoying himself. He sucked at the power cable and his eyes glowed blissfully.

Stiffy flourished his pistol.

“Get away,” he yelled. “Get away or I’ll blister your danged hide.”

Almost playfully the Prowler minced away from the ship, feet dancing.

“He did it!” said Meek.

“Did what?” Stiffy scowled bewilderedly.

“Got away from that ship, just like you told him to.”

Stiffy snorted. “Don’t even kid yourself he did it because I told him to. He couldn’t even hear me, probably. Living out here like this, he wouldn’t have anything to hear with. Probably he’s just trying to decide which one of us he’ll catch first. Better be ready to kick you up some dust.”

The Prowler trotted toward them, head bobbing up and down.

“Get going,” Stiffy yelled at Meek and brought up his pistol. A blue shaft of light whipped out, smacked the Prowler in the head, but the Prowler didn’t even falter in his stride. The energy charge seemed to have no power at all. It didn’t even spatter … it looked as if the blue pencil of raging death was boring straight into the spread of forehead between the monstrous eyes.

“Run, you danged fool,” Stiffy screeched at Meek. “I can’t hold him off.”

But Meek didn’t run … instead he sprang straight into the Prowler’s path, arm upraised.

“Stop!” he yelled.

The Prowler skidded to a stop, his metal hooves leaving scratches on the solid rock.

For a moment the three of them stood stock still, Stiffy’s jaw hanging in astonishment.

Meek reached out a hand and patted the Prowler’s massive shoulder.

“Good boy,” he said. “Good boy.”

“Come away from there!” Stiffy yelled in sudden terror. “Just one good gulp and that guy would have you.”

“Ah, shucks,” said Meek, “he won’t hurt anybody. He’s only hungry, that’s all.”

“That,” declared Stiffy, “is just what I’m afraid of.”

“You don’t understand,” insisted Meek. “He isn’t hungry for us. He’s starved for energy. Give him another shot from the gun.”

Stiffy stared at the gun hanging in his hand.

“You’re sure it wouldn’t make him sore?” he asked.

“Gosh, no,” said Meek. “That’s what he wants. He soaks it up. Didn’t you notice how the beam went right into him without spattering or anything. And the way he sucked that power cable. He drained your ship of every drop of energy it had.”

“He did what?” yelped Stiffy.

“He drained the ship of energy. That’s what he lives on. That’s why he chased you. He wanted you to keep on shooting.”

Stiffy clapped a hand to his forehead.

“We’re sunk for certain, now,” he declared. “There might have been a chance to get back with just a few plates ripped off the ship. But with all the energy gone …”

“Hey, Stiffy,” yelled Meek, “take a look at this.”

Stiffy moved nearer, cautiously.

“What you got now?” he demanded irritably.

“These marks on his shoulder,” said Meek. His gloved finger shook excitedly as he pointed. “They’re the same kind of marks as were on those stones I read about in the book. Marks no one could read. Fellow who wrote the book figured they were made by some other race that had visited Juno. Maybe a race from outside the Solar System, even.”

“Good gravy,” said Stiffy, in awe, “you don’t think …”

“Sure, I do,” Meek declared with the air of a man who is sure of his knowledge. “A race came here one time and they had the Prowler along. For some reason they left him. Maybe he was just a robot and they didn’t have room for him, or maybe something happened to them …”

“Say,” said Stiffy, “I bet you that’s just what he is. A robot. Attuned to thought waves. That’s why he minds you.”

“That’s what I figured,” Meek agreed. “Thought waves would be the same, no matter who thought them … human being or a … well … or something else.”

A sudden thought struck Stiffy. “Maybe them guys found the Lost Mine! By cracky, that would be something, wouldn’t it? Maybe this critter could lead us to it.”

“Maybe?” Meek said doubtfully.

Meek patted the Prowler’s rocky shoulder gently, filled with wonder. In some unguessed time, in some unknown sector of space, the Prowler had been fashioned by an alien people. For some reason they had made him, for some reason they had left him here. Abandonment or purpose?

Meek shook his head. That would be something to puzzle over later, something to roll around in his brain on some monotonous flight into the maw of space.

Space! Startled at the thought clanging on his brain he jerked a quick glance upward, saw the bleak stars staring at him. Eyes that seemed to be laughing at him, cruel, ironic laughter.

“Stiffy,” he whispered. “Stiffy, I just thought of something.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Stark terror walked in Meek’s words. “My oxygen tank is better than half gone. And the ship is wrecked. …”

“Cripes,” said Stiffy, “I guess we just forgot. We sure are behind the eight ball. Somehow we got to get back to Asteroid City. And we got to get there quick.”

Meek’s eyes brightened. “Stiffy, maybe … Maybe we could ride the Prowler.”

Stiffy backed away. But Meek reached out and grasped his arm. “Come on. It’s the only way, Stiffy. We have to get there and the Prowler can take us.”

“But … but … but …” Stiffy stammered.

“Give me a leg up,” Meek ordered.

Stiffy complied and Meek leaped astride the broad metal back, reached down and hauled Stiffy aboard.

“Get going, you flea-bitten nag!” Meek yipped, in sudden elation.

There was reason for elation. Not until that moment had he stopped to consider the Prowler might object to being ridden. Might consider it an insult.

The Prowler apparently was astonished, but that was all. He shook his head in bewilderment and weaved his neck around as if he wasn’t quite sure just what to do. But at least he hadn’t started to take the place apart.

“Giddap!” yelled Stiffy, bringing the butt of his pistol down.

The Prowler jigged a little, then gathered himself together and started. The landscape blurred with speed as he leaped a mighty boulder, skipped along a narrow ledge around a slick-faced mountain, skidded a hairpin turn.

Meek and Stiffy fought desperately to hang on. The metal back was slick and broad and there weren’t any handholds. They bounced and thumped, almost fell off a dozen times.

“Stiffy,” yelled Meek, “how do we know he’s taking us to Asteroid City?”

“Don’t fret about that,” said Stiffy. “He knows where we want to go. He read our minds.”

“I hope so,” Meek said, prayerfully.

The Prowler whished around a right angle turn on a narrow ledge and the distant peaks wheeled sickeningly against the sky.

Meek lay flat on his belly and hugged the Prowler’s sides. The mountains whistled past. He stole a look at the jagged peaks on the near horizon and they looked like a tight board fence.