Free Bill 2 - on the Planet of Robot Slaves by Harry Harrison

squinted into the slipstream. “Can't see what it is — except it looks plenty big.”
    From a little speck, no bigger than a bird turd, the distant object grew as they trundled towards it. Grew until it was big as a man's hand, grew bigger still until they could pick out details, inexplicable details at first. That remained just as inexplicable as they drew close. As they came over a ridge and trundled down into the valley beyond they could see that the jumble of towers, shapes, structures and such junk, was surrounded by a high wall. The sand here was cut and marked by treadmarks and ruts that crossed and tangled — yet all converged on the same spot — where the wall swelled out into an impressive bulge.
    Their vehicle still trundled forward, but the other machines slowed and stopped and remained behind, disappearing from sight in the dust clouds that blew around them. Their transport of delight did not slow as it hurtled towards the wall — which split open at the last moment. They whizzed through the opening and into pitch darkness as the outer wall closed behind them.
    “I hope that this thing can see in the dark,” Praktis muttered to himself.
    Then light appeared ahead and their car slowed, zoomed out into the sunshine and stopped.
    “So what's the big deal?” Meta asked. “More sand, a solid wall, and the same sky. For this we could have stayed in the desert...”
    She broke off as the car doors creaked and snapped open.
    “I think they are trying to tell us something!” Wurber said. They got up warily, not that they had much of a choice, and climbed down to the ground. Except for Bill who had even less choice.
    “Say, guys, I got a problem. This thing has grabbed me by the ankles.”
    He stood and pulled, but the metal bands held him fast. And even as he did this, before anyone could turn to help him, the car doors slammed shut. Bill called out hoarsely as the vehicle started forward, knocking him back into the seat. An opening appeared in the wall ahead and they shot into it. The angry shouts of his companions were cut off as it sealed again.
    “I'm not sure that I like this,” Bill whimpered into the darkness as they rolled on. Through a door and into a sunlit chamber. The restraints slipped free as soon as the car had stopped and the doors opened yet again. Looking around dubiously, he climbed out.
    The sun filtered through transparent panels high above, lighting up the complex machines and strange devices that covered the walls. It was all very mysterious but, before he could examine it, a small and bulbous machine on squeaking treads rumbled towards him and stopped. A metal arm with a black knob on the end shot out towards him, would have hit him in the face if he had not ducked. He slipped his blaster from its holster, ready to blow the thing away if it tried to bash him again. But the knob only rotated to face him and remained about a foot from his head. It vibrated a little and made a rasping sound, emitted a high-pitched tone, then spoke in a deep voice.
    “Blep — bleep — bleep-b-blep — bleep!” it said with electronic enthusiasm, then tilted towards him as though awaiting an answer. Bill smiled and cleared his throat.
    “Yes, I am quite sure that you are right,” he said.
    “0101 1000 1000 1010 1110”
    “Closer, perhaps.”
    The thing vibrated — then spoke again.
    “Karsnitz, ipplesnitz, frrkle.”
    “I'm not really catching the drift...”
    “Su ogni parola della pronuncia figurate è stato segnato l'accento fonico.”
    “No,” Bill said. “I'm still having a bit of difficulty.”
    “Vous y trouverez plus million mots.”
    “Not lately.”
    “Mi opinias ke vi komprenas nenion.”
    “Getting closer.”
    “There must be some language, ugly/squishy one, that you can speak/understand.”
    “Bang on!”
    “Does the expression 'bang-on' convey the meaning that you can comprehend my communication?”
    “It sure does. Your voice is kind of gravelly but other than that