Ktheg!lik watched Nik!eh grab one bag of potato chips, and hurry into the work room that connected to the machine stable, where he kept the floating carriage. She told the others to wait on their questions, and just watched. A zeg or two later, little machines of metal and stone came floating down the stairs, and others floated up from the lower floors. They all glided off in the same direction the alien had.

  Ktheg!lik wheezed a bit and took another breath of pure oxygen. She waited and listened until she heard the rumble of that stone door sliding open, and closing again less than a zeg after. Only then did she try to breathe a sigh of relief—which turned into another wheeze.

  “Ktheg!lik, do you think you are dying?” Geh!kin asked nervously.

  “I don't know. Petra, am I dying?” she asked the golem.

  “I don't know, Ktheg!lik.”

  “Fair enough."

  "I don't understand."

  "Can you heal me?”

  “Too small elements.”

  Well, that matches what Nik!eh said, anyway. I need to not waste this tremendous opportunity, for however long I last. Nik!eh gave me control of the golem, which is either incredibly naive or else he has some kind of safety in place. Maybe hoonanz are less intelligent than fuak!a. Or maybe he's just not a smart specimen. Either way, I won't test the limits of the permission granted. He's been helping us a great deal.

  “Ktheg!lik?” Geh!kin prodded. “You're the one with control.”

  She took a breath of oxygen and tried to clear her throat. It was painful and felt tight, and she felt hot. I might not last very long, she realized. I need to stop wasting time.

  “Petra, where are you from?”

  They had asked the golem this question several times, but always it refused to answer. She waited, wondering whether it would answer now. The response was almost immediate, but unfortunately literal-minded, as usual.

  “I am from my dungeon.”

  “Where were you before you came to this planet?”

  “Earth.” That's Nik!eh's planet.

  “And where were you before Earth?”

  Petra answered with an unpronounceable name. “Thenigris Glang.”

  “And what planet were you on before that?”

  “Error.”

  “Were you created on that planet?”

  “What is 'created'?”

  “Made.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you one of a kind, or are there more golems like you?”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I am golem 4,238,177.”

  By the—Ktheg!lik had almost sworn, 'by the sun and the sea', but that expression felt like a painful, terrible betrayal these days. Wonder of wonders, she thought instead. Millions of these golems. Each capable of working like a small army—capable of building and commanding a small army. Why would the masters of such golems ever need to flee anything?

  “Ask it about the hoonan,” Geh!kin suggested.

  “Why do you follow the instructions of Nik!eh?”

  “Nik!eh is my orbathic.”

  “Explain, please.”

  “I am a golem.”

  Ktheg!lik gave up on that line of questioning for the moment.

  “Do you know why our star changed?”

  “No.”

  “Can you change our star back the way it was?”

  “I have no designs relating to that function.”

  “Can you build flying machines?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you build ships to travel between planets?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you build ships to travel between stars?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long would it take you to build a ship to carry thirty people between stars?”

  “Unknown.”

  “What is the minimum time it would take you to build such a ship?” She had to rephrase that a couple of times before Petra understood.

  “Eighty-six years.”

  “We'll never last that long, even with Nik!eh's help. Who would want to raise a child in a mine shaft?” Geh!kin observed.

  “Petra, can you make weapons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you make me a hand weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long would that take?”

  “Please specify design.”

  “Show me the designs.”

  Petra began to display a dizzyingly vast library of schematics. Ktheg!lik flipped through them for a zeg or two before setting it aside. She stopped for a leg to take in some pure oxygen. Her difficulty breathing was distracting.

  “Petra, how do you know I am sick?”

  “Automata 251 to 274.”

  “Show me automaton 251.”

  The board of lights displayed a diagram of her body, with a pulsing white dot somewhere in her intestines. Ktheg!lik flinched. “Automaton 251 is inside my body?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show all automata inside my body.”

  Two dozen dots appeared, mostly clustered together in her gut. If she squinted, she suspected that some of them might be moving in different directions.

  “Those were in the food you gave me.”

  “Yes, Ktheg!lik.”

  “You should have asked me first.”

  “I don't understand.”

  She sighed. It was getting a little hard to think. “Petra, can I give Geh!kin the same permissions I have?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do so.”

  “I don't understand.”

  Ktheg!lik wheezed a moment and took some more oxygen. “Give Geh!kin the same permissions I have.”

  “Done, Ktheg!lik.”

  “Thank you, Ktheg!lik,” Geh!kin breathed. “Are you all right?”

  “No. I'm probably dying from some alien sickness.”

  “Why did you risk it?”

  “Someone had to. Now, find out everything you can. I might not last much longer.”

  “Don't talk like that, Ktheg!lik.”

  “It's realistic. Nik!eh is off to find some vanadium from the remains of the Uoal Ocean. Even if he succeeds, that's going to take several hours, despite the incredible speed of his carriage. That doesn't even count waiting for sunset. Now, leave me be. Talk to the golem. Learn all you can and figure out how to save our people. I'm going to lie down. Maybe I can...breathe better that way.”

  “Clutch at life, Ktheg!lik.”

  “I will, I will.”

  Ktheg!lik took one of the glowing boards with her as she lowered herself from the chair to the floor, and crawled into the hoonan's nest. Sorry about this, she thought at the strange alien, as she flopped on the soft covering and tried to arrange herself a bit more comfortably. It took more of her energy than she would have liked.

  A waist-high metal automaton glided into the room, carrying an oxygen tank, which it deposited in the nest next to her. “Thank you,” she wheezed, smiling at the little thing. Her mind started to drift.

  What a strange way to die. Clean, well-fed, catered to by a golem and its automata, brought by an alien who landed on our planet by accident. Dying from an alien sickness in an alien's bed.

  She took a breath of oxygen. I have seen horrors, and amidst the tragedy, I now have seen wonders, too. Life is so strange.

  She felt a pang of guilt for trying to get a weapon from the golem. She'd do it again, because the survival of her people was at stake, but she felt bad about violating the trust Nik!eh had shown her. He didn't have to help us. He could have ignored us. But he's lonely.

  And maybe he's just kind, she chided herself, closing her eyes because it was too much work to keep them open. Maybe...he's just a good...huunan...