by Simon Haynes
"Hold the Volante for an hour or two. Got it." There was a pause. "Any reason?"
Rex frowned. "Because I said so."
"I mean, should I give the pilot a reason?"
"Just your everyday delaying tactics. Weather's bad, ground crew on their lunch break … use your imagination."
"Will do, Mr Curtis."
Rex cut the call, pleased with himself. Everything was going to plan.
*
Sonya took the lift to the basement, where Hugh Dent had his lab complex. Mysterious smells and muffled explosions greeted lost souls who stepped off at the wrong floor, and mischievous receptionists often directed door-to-door salesmen there, watching in barely concealed glee as they fled the building, scattering remaindered books and plastic toys in their wake.
Sonya stepped into a concrete-lined room just as the glass door in the opposite wall opened. Dent entered the room and Sonya eyed him warily. He was a hunched-up fifty-year-old with a bald head, red-rimmed eyes and hands that seemed several sizes too big. Sonya stared at them. She'd heard all about Dent's hands.
"Ah, Sonya m'dear. Come in, come in," said Dent genially, stepping back and waving her through.
Sonya grabbed Dent's hand with both of hers, shaking it hard. "Curtis called you?"
"Ah-hmm." Dent looked at her shrewdly. "Surveillance, intelligence gathering and disguises? Come in, come in." He led her to a frosted glass door and touched a contact pad. "Through here," he said, as the door swished open.
"You first," said Sonya.
They made their way along the passage to another door, this one made from a slab of steel.
"Impressive security," said Sonya.
"Can't have helpless young women wandering around on their own," said Dent, raising his large hand to the pad. "Anything could happen to them down here."
"So I've heard."
The heavy door rumbled open and Dent hurried in. "Follow!" he called over his shoulder.
They entered a large room with shaded lights hanging over cluttered workbenches. There was a desk heaped with exotic computer equipment, and alongside it stood a sinister-looking cabinet emblazoned with warning signs. Sonya's eyes widened at the sight of a huge grey robot standing in its packing crate, and opened further still when she spotted a row of missile launchers leaning against a stack of ammunition boxes.
"Come on, come on," called Dent, who was making straight for the cabinet.
"What is that thing?" asked Sonya.
"Coffee maker."
"Is it safe?"
"I hope not," muttered Dent. He retrieved a dirty mug and began filling it with steaming black liquid. "Want one? It's real caffeine."
"Not right now." Sonya picked up a missile launcher and aimed it at the back of Dent's head. "Who are we invading?"
Dent spun round, slopping his coffee. "Put that down, woman! You think these are toys?"
"Range eighteen kilometres, blast radius five hundred metres … this ain't no toy."
"You know your weapons," Dent said grudgingly.
Sonya swung the tube off her shoulder and propped it up with the rest. "What's Curtis doing with all this stuff?"
"Trade war," said Dent. "Very hush-hush. Can't discuss it."
"What do you have for me?"
Dent put his cup on the workbench and retrieved a wooden box. "I designed this myself," he said, snapping the catches open.
Sonya looked inside. "A gun?"
"No ordinary gun." Dent took the weapon out and held it up to the light, which shone right through it. "A glass gun."
"I see. And the advantage is?"
"It's invisible in water. I had a devil of a job perfecting a transparent battery, I can tell you. Here, take a - Oops!" Dent grabbed for the falling gun but it struck the edge of the desk, tumbled onto the floor and shattered. Dent swept the pieces aside with his foot. "As you can see, it's easy to dispose of the weapon in an emergency. Now, Curtis tells me you have to get aboard a ship for a recce. Correct?"
Sonya nodded. "Unarmed, from the look of it."
"I've had some items delivered to the landing pad. There's a hazard suit, a sprayer, that kind of thing. You can go aboard the ship to fumigate, and the helmet will hide your face. I've also been working on a device which will suck everything you need from the ship's computer." Dent reached under the bench and brought out a silver case with a large smiley face on the side. "Meet Bobby the Briefcase," he said, setting it on the worktop.
"Bobby the …" Sonya blinked. "You expect me to carry this in public?"
Dent looked surprised. "Of course. This is the most sophisticated, the most advanced, the most …"
"Dumb-looking," supplied Sonya.
Dent ignored her. "The most powerful and the most intelligent portable computing device ever."
"And you called it Bobby the Briefcase. Is it the air down here, or what?"
A cooling fan began to blow through a vent in the side of the case, sending a stack of paperwork fluttering. "I called myself Bobby," said the case in a jolly voice. "It creates a bond of friendship and understanding with my users."
Sonya stared at the briefcase. "You thought this up for yourself?"
The briefcase made a throat-clearing sound. "Mr Dent, you still haven't entered a serial number."
"Oh, yes." Dent patted his pockets. "I just have to find the codes," he said. "Won't be a moment."
"What codes?" asked Sonya.
The briefcase piped up. "This software product has not been unlocked. You have six days before self-destruction. Do you wish to enter an activation code now?"
"No!" called Dent from behind the workbench. "Damn it, where did I put that stupid packaging?"
"Activation cancelled," said Bobby. Another fan cut in and Dent's cup began to slide towards the edge of the bench.
Sonya watched Dent up-ending wastepaper baskets and tipping out drawers. "Can you not crack it?"
"That's a negative," said the briefcase. "Do not discuss such matters or I'll be forced to report your illegal activities to the nearest authorities."
"You do that and I'll teach you to smoke," said Sonya.
"Impossible. I could never do such a thing."
"Data socket plus mains voltage. You'd smoke all right."
Dent returned empty-handed. "I can't find it anywhere. Never mind, I'll dig it out later. Plenty of time."
Sonya hefted the case, which was surprisingly heavy.
"Hey, mind the equipment," said Bobby.
"What do I do with it?" asked Sonya, putting the case back on the bench.
"Connect the lead to any data socket aboard the ship and you'll have the whole thing in minutes." Dent lowered his voice. "Even a Gamma class freighter can't stand up to my persuasion for long."
"Why's it blowing so hard?"
Dent tried to look modest. "That's my patented cooling method. It's a miniature reactor powered by nitrogen." He pointed to a grille on the side of the case. "There's no fuel - it takes what it needs from the air."
Sonya reached for the grille to feel the suction.
"No!" said Dent, striking her hand away. "Never, ever cover the inlet. Without a constant source of fuel the reactor will …" he swallowed. "It's still experimental."
Sonya saw the fear in his eyes. "It's not dangerous?"
"Absolutely not, I put it together myself." Dent hesitated. "Of course, if something did happen the explosion could knock a planet out of orbit."
"You mean a spaceship," corrected Sonya.
"No, I mean a planet." Dent laid his hand on her arm. "Now m'dear, how about a little drink before heading off? A celebration perhaps?"
"Pass," said Sonya, pushing his hand away.
"I have a bottle of fine wine I've been saving. We could —"
"No we couldn't," said Sonya firmly, resisting the temptation to break one of his fingers.
Dent's face fell. "Oh, very well. Come, I'll show you out."
Sonya picked up the briefcase and followed Dent through the giant ste
el doors. They walked down the hall to the frosted glass door, where Dent began to type in numbers. Suddenly he stopped. "That reminds me, Bobby is also a versatile cracker. Get him within range and he can open anything." He leered at her. "Almost anything."
"Is that so?" Sonya nodded at the door. "Can I try with this?"
"I fear my security will be more than a match for Bobby," said Dent with a laugh. "But you're welcome to try, m'dear."
With a fluid movement Sonya swung the briefcase at the door, shattering the glass. "Not bad," she said, as thousands of glittering fragments cascaded to the floor. "It could use a thicker grip."
Chapter 5
Rain lashed the Volante, running off the ship in thick, twisting streams. Leaves fluttered in the wind, sticking briefly to the curved metal hull before washing away in the heavy downpour. Inside, Clunk was sitting in the pilot's chair, busy at the console. Having done his best with the generators, he was now running tests with the Navcom's diagnostic suite.
A particularly heavy squall hit the Volante, rocking the ship on its landing legs and drawing Clunk's attention to the airlock. Through the opening he saw trees bent double in the wind. The driving rain was almost horizontal. There was a beep, and Clunk switched his attention back to the console. "Navcom, let me know when the diagnostics are complete."
"Estimate nine minutes longer." There was a pause. "Where is Mr Spacejock?"
"He's building a camp fire," said Clunk, eyeing Hal's biscuit tin.
"According to my calculations, ambient moisture precludes such activity."
"Correct," said Clunk, glancing at the airlock. "And if he does manage to light something, the wind will blow it straight out again."
"Shipboard environment is now back to optimal. Can't he come in?"
"Give him a bit longer." Clunk opened the tin and selected a biscuit, sniffing it to savour the aroma.
"He's not going to be very happy," said the Navcom, as another squall rocked the ship.
"Mr Spacejock needs a little lesson from time to time. Particularly if he's going to accuse me of basic navigation errors." Clunk replaced the biscuit, sat back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. "Now, tell me about this planet."
*
Hal spent a lot of time searching the forest for a dry piece of ground to sleep on, discarding one swampy hole after another until he finally came across a clearing. It wasn't much more than a gap amongst the trees, but the ground was firm and it was better than the muddy ground near the ship.
Now it was dark, and the green wood on Hal's diminutive campfire generated more steam than smoke as it spluttered and hissed to itself. The rain had put it out several times, and Hal turned his collar up as drops began to fall again.
There was a rustle from the bushes, and Hal stared into the darkness. Was Clunk bringing a nice hot meal from the Volante's galley? Better still, was he coming to say the repairs were finished? "Clunk, is that you?"
A twig snapped, but nobody answered.
"Clunk, stop messing about." Hal stared into the gloom, but the spluttering flames had wrecked his night vision. He picked up a solid branch and threw it onto the fire, which promptly went out. "Damn," said Hal. He took out a flamer and held it to the steaming pile, playing the jet onto the singed wood at the centre. The fire burst into life, and Hal added a handful of leaves. The flames grew bigger so he added some twigs, then the large branch, followed by several bushes and a tree trunk. When he'd finished the flames were ten metres high and the clearing was lit up like a stage on opening night.
Satisfied, Hal returned to his tree stump to watch. Now and then he added more fuel, stirring up sparks which rose into the cool air and vanished against the cloudy sky.
There was another sound, a rustling noise which gradually grew louder and louder. Hal turned to stare into the shadowy undergrowth. "Clunk?"
The robot entered the clearing, his alloy skin scratched and oily and his face smudged with grime. "How are you, Mr Spacejock?"
"Never mind me. How's the ship?"
"Almost ready. It's a slow job."
"It'll be even slower if you keep coming out here to tell me how slow it's going to be."
"I've rigged a light in the flight deck. Perhaps you'd like to come aboard now?"
"What about the toxins?"
"They're dispersing rapidly."
"Forget it." Hal nodded at the fire. "I've only just got this going. I want to enjoy it."
"Nevertheless, you'll be comfortable aboard the Volante. Safer, too."
"What do you mean, safer?"
Clunk hesitated. "While I was waiting for some tests to finish I decided to look up the information on this planet."
"You already did that before we landed. There's nothing here but trees, and the atmosphere is fine." Hal laughed. "You think the bushes are going to reach out and grab me? Is that it?"
Clunk shook his head. "Not the bushes."
Hal picked up a solid-looking branch. "If I see any threatening foliage, I'll whack it. Happy now?"
Clunk lowered his voice. "I just discovered there's a quarantined planet in this system. It's called Oliape II."
"Why tell me about it? I mean, we landed on Oliape."
Clunk shook his head. "This is Oliape II."
"Really?" Hal looked around. "It's still a dump."
"It's also inhabited. Oliape II has several species of mammals, a number of reptiles, that kind of thing."
There was a rustle from the bushes.
"Large ones?"
The robot nodded. "The dominant life form is a carnivorous ape, about so high." He held his hand out at shoulder height, then raised it until he was at full stretch.
"Okay, before I batter you into scrap with this branch, kindly explain how we ended up on the wrong planet."
"It's a complex matter involving celestial navigation and orbital mechanics."
"You screwed up, didn't you?"
"The planetary orbits intersect! When we approached Oliape II it was closer to the primary than Oliape. The planets are very similar, there are no beacons and …"
"And you screwed up."
Clunk hung his head. "I was under pressure. I'm sorry."
"Hey, don't sweat it. To err is human and all that."
"Quite."
"All we have to do is leave before these creatures find us."
He'd barely finished speaking when a large orange shape leapt from the bushes and threw itself on Clunk, knocking the robot into the mud. The creature fastened its jaws around the robot's neck and bit down, hard. There was a splintering sound, and the creature howled, shaking its head and pawing at its muzzle.
Hal took one look at the giant ape, tossed his lump of wood aside and ran full-tilt for the ship. Clunk scrambled to his feet and followed.
They ran through the darkness, crashing through wet bushes and leaping over fallen trees. Behind them, a tortured scream echoed around the clearing.
"What was THAT?" gasped Hal.
"I think it just discovered fire," puffed Clunk.
Hal pushed through a dense bush and found himself at the foot of the Volante's ramp, where a light cast a soft glow on the churned-up mud. He pounded up the metal ramp and entered the airlock, where he reached for the controls. Then he realised Clunk wasn't with him. Looking down, he saw the robot halfway up the ramp, waving his arms like a hyperactive windmill.
"What is it?" called Hal.
"Behind you!" screeched Clunk.
"What do you mean —" Suddenly Hal felt hot breath on the back of his neck, and what the robot meant became all too clear. He turned to face the threat, and froze as he saw the enormous creature behind him.
The shaggy orange ape was over two metres tall, with long, muscled arms, multiple rows of serrated teeth and beady, red-rimmed eyes.
Hal turned to flee, only to see another of the creatures burst from the forest and leap onto the foot of the ramp.
They were trapped.
Chapter 6
Hal looked ove
r the side of the ramp, wondering whether to jump. It was a long way down, but the soft earth might cushion his landing. Of course, while he was struggling to stand up the other ape would probably bite his head off.
"Wowlf?" The huge ape raised a hairy finger and scratched the side of its head. The gesture was so human Hal almost laughed. Almost.
"Oof!" he said, as the creature prodded him in the chest. He heard thudding footsteps and risked a quick glance. Clunk was running up the landing ramp towards them.
The ape batted Hal aside and ran down the ramp with a low-slung, sideways gait, covering the distance with astonishing speed. Clunk saw it coming and threw himself face down as it leapt. The creature sailed over him, landed on its chin and began to roll head over heels. It collected the second ape and both of them tumbled down the ramp, landing in the mud at the bottom.
"Quick!" yelled Hal, as Clunk scrabbled for purchase, hands and feet slipping on the slick metal. At the foot of the ramp the apes regained their feet and sprang towards Clunk, mud splattering from their pumping legs.
Clunk took one look at them and bolted up the ramp on all fours, striking sparks in his haste. Hal stood with a hand poised above the airlock controls as the robot approached, and as Clunk hurled himself into the ship, Hal slammed his hand on the button.
Nothing happened.
Hal stared at the oncoming creatures, watched the lightweight metal ramp swaying and bouncing as the slavering beasts ran towards him.
"The door won't operate without full power," said Clunk calmly.
"Well don't just stand there, help me push the damn thing!" Hal threw himself at the heavy slab of metal, his feet slipping and sliding on the deck. Clunk joined him, and the door began to move. Hal strained, Clunk whined, and the thudding feet got closer.
There was a thump as the door closed. "Lock?" demanded Hal, panting hard.
Clunk shook his head.
They dived for the inner door and fell into the flight deck in a tangle of arms and legs. There was a crash as the outer door burst open, and Hal threw himself at the inner door, sealing it just as the creatures rammed it from the other side. There was an angry howl, followed by a flurry of heavy blows.