A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson

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They hadn't whined. And maybe something would turn up. The scene tilted. The engines growled on a deeper note. The ship was landing. The Merseian base stood on a bluff overlooking the river, thirty or so kilometers north of its mouth, well into fertile territory. The spaceport was minute, the facilities in proportion, as Flandry had surmised; nothing fancier than a few destroyers and lesser craft could work out of here. But he noticed several buildings within the compound that didn't seem naval.

Two, with no intercommunication, to be rival chessmasters. That could be why it hasn't noticed something strange is going on today. " He zigzagged off the board with Djana, onto the blessed safe unmarked part of the land, and walked around the boundary. En route he saw a robot that had to be a king. It loomed four meters tall in the form of a man who wore the indoor dress of centuries ago, gold-plated and crowned with clustered diamonds. It bore no weapons. He learned later that it captured by divine right.

If I hadn't…we'd've quit, returned, and died. " He urged her forward. "We can't go further," she pleaded. " After some trudging: "My guess is, the computer split its attention into a number of parts. One or more to keep track of the wild robots. Two, with no intercommunication, to be rival chessmasters. That could be why it hasn't noticed something strange is going on today. " He zigzagged off the board with Djana, onto the blessed safe unmarked part of the land, and walked around the boundary.

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