“All right, so I was wrong,” said Lola, not sounding in the least contrite. She turned off the hotel room’s built-in computer screen, which had been displaying Do-It-Yourself Turing Test by Minsky & Hofstadter Enterprises. “We’ve gone and stolen the damned robot dupe instead of kidnapping Willard Phule. Now what?”
They’d realized something wasn’t right almost as soon as they’d dissolved the goo gun bonds they’d used to capture their prey. The captive’s response to the situation had been thoroughly inappropriate, unless one assumed that a total idiot had been running a Legion company and a major Casino Hotel—not only running them, but running them successfully. Their suspicions aroused, they’d called up the Turing test, and the robot had failed it miserably.
Ernie shook his head miserably. “We’ve blown it for sure,” he said. “The bosses send us here to snatch a guy and all we get is a stupid bot. They’re gonna wale on our butts for this.”
Lola paced back and forth in short steps, thinking furiously. “I think it’s time we stopped thinking about the bosses and started looking after ourselves,” she said. “We can still make something out of this if we don’t panic.”
“Panic?” said Ernie, his voice squeaking. “You ever seen what the bosses do to guys who stiff ’em?”
“That’s the ones they catch,” said Lola. She stopped and pointed at Ernie, and continued, “If we play our cards right, who says they’re going to catch us? Especially if we can get Phule to pay to get his robot back. These things can’t be cheap. It ought to be worth enough to him to give us enough of a nest egg to run off and hide someplace safe.”
“Yeah, I guess the bot’s gotta be worth somethin’ to him,” Ernie said, scratching his head. “I wonder what he’ll pay to get it back.”
“We need to know the going price for an Andromatic dupe, for starters,” said Lola. She flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling a moment before continuing, “I guess he’ll pay that much just to avoid waiting for the factory to turn out a new one for him. This thing’s gotta be a custom model—nobody else would want one that looked like him.”
“Yeah, I guess we can get replacement value, whatever that is,” said Ernie. He looked once more at the replica of Phule sitting, with an expression of seeming unconcern, cross-legged in a chair by the window. It might have been waiting for a dinner date.
Or, more likely, looking for a chance to escape. But the two kidnappers weren’t betting that their captive would remain docile. The robot’s left leg was shackled to the heavy chair, and even with its superhuman strength, it wouldn’t make much progress dragging such an awkward impediment. Still, if it managed to escape the building, it was a good bet that it would find its way back to the Fat Chance, and that shortly thereafter, the two botnappers would be in the hands of unsympathetic security guards, learning firsthand about the penal system of Lorelei Station.
“One thing hasn’t changed,” said Lola. “We have to get off-station with this thing as quick as we can. The heat’s going to be turned way up. We’ve still got a chance to turn a profit. The bot’s worth something. Let’s get someplace where we can cash it in.”
Ernie looked her in the eye for a long moment, then shrugged. “OK, you’re running the game,” he said. “But first things first. What do we do to keep the Fat Chance security from beating down our door?”
She stood and moved quickly to the computer terminal she’d signed off from only a few minutes before. “Like I said, we have to get off-station—and take the bot with us—pronto. Tell you what; you go to the public ’puters in the lobby and do some research on the going price of these robots. Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can get us a berth on something headed out—and right now, I’m not particular about destinations. Don’t take too long, OK? ’Cause I’m grabbing the first thing I can find, even if we have to leave without our luggage to make it. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Ernie. He walked over and patted the robot on the head. “You just rest, ol’ boy; you’re gonna be our ticket to Rich Man’s Row before it’s all over.” The robot, still gagged, said nothing.
“Be careful, it might grab you,” said Lola, wrinkling her brow.
“Nah, the Asimov circuits won’t let it,” said Ernie. “Be back in a bit.”
“Make it half a bit,” said Lola, but Ernie was already out the door. She turned to the terminal and began searching for a ship headed out—out to anywhere.
* * *
“Andromatic stands behind its product without reservation, Captain Jester,” said the customer service representative with an audible sniff. A name badge, which read Stanton, was visible on his chest. “However, if you will examine your purchase agreement, you will see that customer negligence is excluded. It appears that the android’s automatic theft alarms have been turned off by you or your agents.”
“The factory default settings on the theft alarms prevented us from using the android as intended,” said Phule. “With my initial order, I specified that the robot had to be able to mingle freely with customers in the casino. It was your factory-recommended installation consultant that suggested disabling the alarms in that environment so they wouldn’t go off every time some unfamiliar person got too close.”
“I am afraid that your consultant—who, I should point out, is an independent contractor and not one of our employees—has given you bad advice,” said Stanton. “That is not an authorized modification. If you had read the documentation—”
Phule cut him off. “I did read the documentation,” he said. “So did a couple of pretty talented engineers. We all agreed that it was nearly useless. Just for starters, the index is completely inaccurate, and the illustrations look as if they were drawn by somebody who’d never laid eyes on the product.”
“Of course,” said the customer service rep with an insulted expression, “you can’t expect the standard manual to cover all the custom features you ordered. Why, we’d have to write a new manual for every order we filled.”
“For what I paid, that doesn’t seem an outlandish service to expect,” said Phule.
“For what you paid, I’d think you could have detailed one of your soldiers to stay with it and guard it,” sneered Stanton.
“My men are legionnaires, not soldiers,” Phule corrected the Andromatic representative somewhat testily. “More to the point, my whole reason for acquiring an android double was to convince various people that I was still on Lorelei instead of several parsecs away. I’ve never found it necessary to walk around with a bodyguard, and if I suddenly appeared to change my routine, it would attract attention. That’s exactly what I didn’t want.”
Stanton shook his head slowly. “Nonetheless, I think we have a clear-cut case of customer negligence here. You must understand, Andromatic cannot take responsibility for unintended uses of our products.” He made hand-washing gestures.
“I think I need to speak to the manager of customer service,” said Phule.
“I am pleased to be able to accommodate you,” said Stanton, with a mock bow. “As it happens, I am the manager of customer service.”
Phule glared at the vidscreen. “I see,” he said. “Let me see if I understand this, then. None of your stock units would do what I wanted a robot double for, so I had to custom-order one that would. But the custom modifications I paid extra for aren’t covered in the manual, and the warranty doesn’t extend to the uses for which I specifically requested the modifications. My failure to follow instructions I didn’t receive constitutes negligence or misuse of the product. Is that about right?”
“That covers most of it, yes,” said Stanton with a smirk. “Is there anything else that I can help you with today?”
“Evidently not,” said Phule. He’d fallen into very precise diction, which anyone who knew him would have recognized as a very dangerous sign. “However, you might save yourself considerable trouble if you started clearing out your desk as soon as this call is over. I’m going to make sure that Andromatic cleans house, and the first department to
get swept out will be customer disservice.” He cut the connection abruptly and slumped into his chair.
“Shall I begin acquiring Andromatic shares, sir?” said Beeker, who had watched the entire conversation.
“Check the profitability first,” said Phule. “If they’re running as sloppy an operation as it looks from here, the shares might be overpriced. I suspect the company can turn a decent profit if it’s managed right, but I don’t see any reason to pay more than we need to for the privilege of turning it around.”
“Perhaps it would be advisable to start rumors to get the price down to a reasonable level,” noted Beeker.
“If we have to, sure,” said Phule. “But don’t put a lot of effort into it. We’ve got bigger fish to fry—among them, figuring out just who’s got the robot and how to get it back.”
“I should expect they’ll give us the courtesy of a ransom call before long, sir,” said Beeker. He opened the cover of his Port-a-Brain computer and began calling up his mail program.
“Possibly,” said Phule. “That depends on their reasons for the robbery in the first place. If they’re looking to make the most possible mischief for me, they can do a lot better by holding onto the thing than by selling it back to me.”
“I fear you’re right, sir,” said Beeker. He looked at the screen, then continued, “At any rate, there’s no word on the android at present. We shall have to pursue other channels.”
“Well, pursue away,” said Phule. “I’m going to go see how Sushi’s coming along with his search for the man who robbed that Japanese restaurant. Give me a buzz if there’s any useful news.”
“Immediately, sir,” said Beeker. He turned back to the Port-a-Brain and began his search.
Journal #520
Crises never choose a convenient time to manifest themselves. Of course not; otherwise, they would hardly qualify as crises. So it did not in the least surprise me that the theft of the robot coincided with an impending move by the company. In comparison, the contretemps with the local citizen convinced that he had been robbed by a legionnaire was a trivial matter.
In this, at least, my employer was fortunate enough to have an eminently qualified subordinate to whom he could delegate the job of identifying the robber. Sushi’s computer skills were as good as any in the company. But it was his newly acquired status as a Yakuza overlord that gave him access to the information on which to proceed.
The perhaps not entirely inadvertent result of taking on this responsibility was the transformation of Sushi into a rather good facsimile of a valuable member of the company. While my employer saw this as a desirable alteration, that opinion was not necessarily universally shared.
* * *
“Yo, Soosh, you still workin’?” Do-Wop stood in the doorway of the hotel suite, obviously with several beers on board. Behind him were Super-Gnat and Tusk-anini. “You know what time it is, man?”
“I thought the one staying home was supposed to ask that question,” said Sushi, looking up from the computer screen. “It’s two in the morning, just in case your chronometer’s broken. And yeah, I’m still working. Did you guys shut down the bar again?”
“Hey, somebody’s gotta do it,” said Do-Wop. He sauntered into the room, fairly steady on his feet, and slouched into an easy chair. Tusk-anini and Super-Gnat followed him, taking seats on the couch. “Everybody’s worried about you, man,” he added. “You workin’ that hard, you gonna give yourself headaches or somethin’.”
“I already have headaches, Do-Wop,” said Sushi, turning his chair around to face his partner. “But this is a different kind—the kind I can get rid of by finishing up this job. And the best part is, when the job’s done, I can go back to hanging out with the guys.”
“You been saying that for weeks now,” accused Do-Wop. “After a while, it sounds like nothin’ more than an excuse.” He sat up in the seat and pointed a finger at Sushi. “I told you this before, and I’ll tell you again. You’re startin’ to act like an officer, man.”
“Hey, cut the squabbling,” said Super-Gnat. “We didn’t come by to watch you guys fight.” She reached down into her bag and pulled out a bottle of Atlantis Amber, beads of condensation on its surface. “Here, Sushi, we thought you’d like a cool one to wet your throat after working all night.”
“She mean wet inside of throat,” explained Tusk-anini helpfully.
“I’d never have guessed,” said Sushi, smiling. He took the beer and opened it. “Thanks, Gnat,” he said, raising the bottle in a salute and taking a sip.
“No prob, Sushi,” she said with a smile. “We did miss you, y’know. We got talking about where we’re going next, and there were some pretty weird ideas going around—stuff that makes Chocolate Harry’s shtick about the renegade robots look fairly logical.”
“Well, some people are buying that line,” said Sushi with a wry grin. “Either that, or there’s an incredible bargain on purple camouflage somewhere in town.”
“I not believing renegade robots,” said Tusk-anini. “Chocolate Harry must make a mistake.”
“If it’s a mistake, it’s a damn lucky one for the sarge’s bank balance,” said Do-Wop. “Wonder where he found all that purple stuff anyhow?”
“Some surplus catalog is my bet,” said Super-Gnat. “But here’s my question, Sushi. You’ve been doing this job for the captain. Do-Wop says he was here talking to you this afternoon. So, naturally, we sort of wondered—any chance he dropped any hints where we’re going?”
Sushi thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cool glass. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But Chocolate Harry let something slip in between his pitches for robot-proof camouflage. The captain’s bought a special modular base camp—MBC—that he’s going to have us practice setting up. What I think that means is, there aren’t any hotels where we’re going. That makes me think we’re going to a world without a large human population. Maybe even none at all.”
“No hotels?” exclaimed Do-Wop. “Does that mean no bars? That sucks, man!”
Tusk-anini sat up straight, which made him nearly as tall as Sushi would have been standing. “Maybe we go to my home world,” he said. “That would be good. Not such bright sun, good food …”
“Don’t let Escrima hear you say that,” said Super-Gnat with a chuckle. Then she added, “It’d be interesting to see your world, though. Anybody who wants to stay in hotels his whole life doesn’t have any business joining the Legion.” She shot a sharp glance in Do-Wop’s direction.
“Look who’s talking,” said Do-Wop. “You ask me, ain’t nobody here had a whole lotta business joinin’ the Legion.”
“I join Legion for business,” said Tusk-anini. “I join to learn about humans, so I can teach other Voltons about you people.”
“Have you learned anything?” asked Sushi. “I sometimes wonder whether that Leftenant Qual wasn’t right in his report on us, that we’re the most dangerous race in the Galaxy because we’re so unpredictable …” He stopped and put his hand to his chin. “Say … you don’t think we might be going to the Zenobians’ home world, do you?”
“Zenobia?” Super-Gnat whistled. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it? As far as I know, we’d be the first humans to see their world. I wonder what it’s like.”
“Hot, I guess,” said Sushi. “And swampy. They think our worlds are cold and dry.”
“Dry’s the word,” said Do-Wop glumly. “Qual never took a drink of liquor the whole time he was with the company. I knew it, a place without bars. I’m gonna purely hate this.”
“Hey, we don’t even know if it’s true yet,” said Super-Gnat. “It’s just a guess so far.”
“Besides, Chocolate Harry’ll make sure there’s something to drink,” said Sushi. “He’s not gonna miss the chance to sell the whole company its daily hooch. Say, maybe we should lay in a supply, see if we can make a little profit on our own.”
“All the other times we’ve moved, we’ve had pretty tight limits on personal supplies,” said Su
per-Gnat. “It’d be hard to take along enough to compete with Harry. He can bring in anything he wants, as long as he can claim it’s for the company.”
“It ain’t fair,” said Do-Wop. “The damn sergeants and officers get all the edge.”
“Now you know why I’ve been acting like an officer,” said Sushi. “Get the captain owing you a couple of favors, and you just might be able to turn them to your advantage.” He knocked back his beer and stood up to take the bottle to the recycler. Then he stopped and grinned. “If I play my cards right, it might even be worth missing a night or two in the bar.”
Do-Wop’s mouth fell wide open. He made a couple of tentative efforts to say something, but then, stunned with the enormity of Sushi’s statement, he simply shook his head in incomprehension. In his universe, there was no conceivable favor a captain could dispense that would make up for a lost night in the bar.
Sushi didn’t stop grinning. But privately, despite all his instincts and training, he found himself wondering whether, on this particular topic, Do-Wop might not be right after all.
Chapter Six
Journal #523
“Set a thief to catch a thief” is, in the abstract, excellent advice. After all, who knows the tricks of the trade better than an experienced practitioner? Thus it is that the galaxy’s most successful police forces recruit their members from the very class of society that produces the criminals they combat. But when an entire society, as on the space station Lorelei, is oriented toward quasi-criminal activity, this formula does not necessarily ensure success. In fact, it may mean only that the laziest and least intelligent members of the criminal classes end up as police.
* * *
It wasn’t the most elegant space liner, and it certainly wasn’t the fastest, but the Star*Runner was leaving Lorelei now, and that was what mattered. Lola and Ernie stood in the boarding line, doing their best not to look over their shoulders or otherwise attract the attention of anyone who might have the authority to ask what was in the large trunk Ernie had on the luggage cart beside him. If it came to that, the two kidnappers had agreed to abandon the trunk and do their best to elude capture by the station’s security forces. Lola hoped they could call in enough favors from their underworld contacts to get them smuggled off the station somehow. If not, well, they’d deal with that when they had to.
The Complete Phule’s Company Boxed Set Page 89