"You are wearing yourself out," said the radio, "sitting thereclutching the wheel that way, squinting ahead. Why don't you try toget some rest? Let me fog the shields. Go to sleep and leave thedriving to me."
"No," he said, "I want it this way."
"All right," said Jenny. "I just thought I would ask."
"Thanks."
About a minute later the radio began playingчit was a soft,stringy sort of music.
"Cut that out!"
"Sorry, boss. Thought it might relax you."
"When I need relaxing, _I'll_ tell _you_."
"Check, Sam. Sorry."
The silence seemed oppressive after its brief interruption. Shewas a good car, though, Murdock knew that. She was always concernedwith his welfare, and she was anxious to get on with his quest.
She was made to look like a carefree Swinger sedan: bright red,gaudy, fast. But there were rockets under the bulges of her hood, andtwo fifty-caliber muzzles lurked just out of sight in the recessesbeneath her headlamps; she wore a belt of five and ten-second timedgrenades across her belly; and in her trunk was a spray-tankcontaining a highly volatile naphthalic.
....for his Jenny was a specially designed deathcar, built for himby the Archengineer of the Geeyem Dynasty, far to the East, and allthe cunning of that great artificer had gone into her construction.
"We'll find it this time, Jenny," he said, "and I didn't mean to snapat you like I did."
"That's all right, Sam," said the delicate voice. "I amprogrammed to understand you."
They roared on across the Great Plain and the sun fell away to thewest. All night and all day they had searched, and Murdock was tired.