by Simon Haynes
Holding his breath, he slid through the doorway and approached the robot, treading carefully. As he got closer he took a penknife from his pocket, wincing as the scissor attachment snicked open. Two metres, one metre, half a step … with a trembling hand, he reached up and fed the thin cord into the blades.
Snip!
His heart skipped a beat as the noise seemed to echo from the walls, but the robot didn't stir. Phillip grabbed the tag and retreated, jamming the piece of card into his pocket. The door thudded to and Phillip hurried along the darkened passage, his shoes clattering on the hard floor as he headed for the exit.
*
Clunk woke with a start, aware of a subtle difference in his environment: the lights were off and the exhibition hall was deserted, although he could see movement near the entrance. He was straining to make out who it was when he heard a noise to his right. Turning to look, he saw a couple of workmen manoeuvring the pleasurebot onto a trolley. As they were lifting it from the pedestal it slipped out of their grasp and toppled headlong to the floor. One of the men cursed loudly as the robot's shoulder landed on his toes.
"Mind your language," hissed the second man. "This is a family show."
"Just get it off me bloody foot!"
The second man leaned over and started to pull, just as the first workman gave the robot a hefty shove.
"Ow, shit!" yelled the second man, as it rolled straight onto his toes.
Finally, they got the robot onto the trolley and pushed it out of the hall, taking it in turns to limp alongside.
Clunk shook his head sadly. How did a bone-wielding, cave-dwelling species like the human race ever manage to escape their home planet and populate the galaxy? He tried to calculate the odds, but quickly ran out of significant digits. While he was busy the men limped back with their trolley. Clunk watched them, wondering which hapless cast-off they were going to wheel away next. Then he realised they were heading straight for him.
"You take the back this time," said the first workman.
"Why don't we knock it over and roll it onto the trolley?"
Clunk made a throat-clearing sound. "That won't be necessary, gentlemen."
"Oh great, this one's going to bash our ears as well."
"You see, I have an owner."
The workmen shaded their eyes and looked around the empty hall. "You see an owner, William?"
"Not me, Walter."
"He's not here, he's delivering a cargo," said Clunk, suppressing the urge to ram their thick heads together.
"How d'you know when a robot's talking crap?" asked Walter.
William shrugged.
"When there's noise coming out its mouth."
The men laughed.
"I tell you I have an owner!" growled Clunk, clenching his fists.
"Oh no you don't," said the men in unison.
"I do!" shouted Clunk, raising his arm. "See? Here's my tag!"
The men exchanged a glance. "This one's going to be difficult," said William.
Walter nodded. "Deluded."
Clunk stared at his naked wrist in shock. Where was the tag? His eyes whirred as he looked down, left and right … even up at the ceiling. "It must have fallen off," he said, stepping off the pedestal. "It can't have gone far."
As one, the workmen drew stunners from their belts.
Clunk backed away, hands raised. "Now, gentlemen. There's no need to —"
Zap! There was a flash of green light and he felt the power drain from his circuits. He toppled backwards and landed with a crash on the hard floor, and was barely conscious when the men approached.
"Bit of a waste to throw this one away," said Walter.
"Here, you don't think …" William hesitated.
"Spit it out."
"We're supposed to junk these things, right?"
"That's the idea."
"This one could be worth a bit. You know … as scrap."
An icy chill rushed through Clunk's circuits. No! He tried to speak, tried to lift a finger, but it was all he could do to stay conscious. Dimly, he was aware of approaching footsteps.
"What do you want?" he heard William demand.
"You'll address me as Mr Farquhar," said a cold voice.
"Yes, Mr Farker," grumbled William.
"What's going on here?"
"We're clearing the exhibit," said Walter. "Sir," he added, as an afterthought.
Clunk sensed someone leaning over him, and then a surge of hope rushed through his circuits as Phillip's face swam into view. He knew about the loan! He was saved! The burst of energy freed his speech processor, and with his last reserves he raised his head and croaked out a single word: "Hal!"
"Who's Hal?" asked William.
"I have no idea," said Phillip. "Now, I want this robot loaded into my vehicle."
"But —"
"Immediately, you hear? My aunt gave explicit instructions."
"Yes sir," grumbled Walter.
Devastated, betrayed, Clunk could only listen to the exchange. He could feel darkness approaching as his systems shut down, starved of power.
"You couldn't give us a hand?" asked William. "Only it's a bit heavy, see?"
"Oh, very well. What do you want me to do?"
"We'll stand here and you stand there. You pull, we push."
Clunk felt hands pulling and pushing him, tipping him over. Just before he blacked out completely he felt his shoulder roll onto the toes of Phillip's soft leather shoes.
He didn't even hear the human's cry of agony.
Chapter 14
"Come on, come on," urged Sonya, willing the taxi on. "Can't you go any faster?"
"This is the legal limit," said the robot driver firmly.
"What's the illegal limit?"
"Unknown. I have a governor which constrains me in every way."
"I know how you feel," muttered Sonya.
The robot glanced over its shoulder. "If you don't mind me asking, what's the hurry?"
"If I want an electric gizmo poking into my business I'll buy a - LOOK OUT!"
The taxi swerved, narrowly missing a courier on a jetbike. The robot driver scanned the courier's squawk code and reported it to the authorities. "He's lucky to be alive," he commented, after performing this vital civic duty.
"You have my permission to go straight through the next one, if it'll get us there quicker," said Sonya.
"That's not advisable," the briefcase by her side piped up." Inciting a taxi driver to break the law is a major offence."
"Oh, shut up."
"I am unable to shut up, as you so indelicately put it. My programming dictates my behaviour."
"Ain't that the truth," said the driver over his shoulder.
Sonya picked up the briefcase. "Any more lip out of you and I'll heave you through the window. Got it?"
"I couldn't allow that," said the driver.
"What, now you defend stray briefcases?"
"No, I'd have to report you for littering."
*
Hal manoeuvred the lifter around the Volante's cargo hold one last time, holding his breath against the fumes belching from the rusty exhaust. His flight suit was soaked with sweat and stuck to him like cling wrap. His shoulders ached from wrestling with the heavy steering wheel and his hair and face were gritty with dust.
He'd just placed the last pallet in the hold when the engine coughed. "Come on!" muttered Hal as he backed towards the ramp. Halfway there, the engine spluttered and died. Hal willed the machine backwards, but it rolled to a halt.
"Great, just great." Hal leaned forward and tapped the fuel gauge, but it pointed resolutely to empty. He got out of the machine and looked across the hold towards the cargo ramp, which was at least fifteen metres away. Stuck for ideas, he activated the commset near the rear doors. "Navcom, the lifter's run out of fuel. Have we got anything I can use to get it off the ship?"
"Checking inventory." After a slight delay, the computer came back. "Negative."
Hal eyed the lifter,
estimating the distance to the top of the cargo ramp. He was too tired to push the thing all that way, but what if … "Navcom, can you lower the ship at the back?"
"How many degrees?"
"All of them."
"Please specify a number from zero to forty-five."
Hal's knowledge of trig was sketchy, so he picked a nice round number. "Try twenty." Immediately, the rear of the ship dropped like a stone, throwing him off balance. "Too much!" he shouted. "Five degrees! Five!"
Too late. There was a rumble as the lifter hurtled towards him, and he barely dived aside as it thundered past, still gathering speed. It rocketed down the ramp, and as Hal watched, horrified, the heavy machine slammed into a corner of the foreman's shed. There was a crash as the lightweight structure fell apart, revealing the foreman sitting at a table with a teacup halfway to his mouth.
Hal leapt up and pressed the intercom button. "Shut the ramp and get the engines going. Hurry."
The cargo ramp jerked free of the ground and began to rise towards him. As it came level with the back of the ship, Hal saw a silver taxi scream into the yard. The car slewed to a halt, and he caught a glimpse of the woman in the back seat before the ramp hid the car from view.
"This can't be good," muttered Hal. He ran for the inner door, and was halfway to the lift when the engines fired with a deep rumble. Moments later, he stepped into the flight deck. "Get me ground clearance."
"Complying. Prepare for take-off."
Hal sat in the pilot's chair and snapped the seatbelt together. "Make it fast, okay? That foreman could be a problem. Someone else just rocked up, too." Hardly had the words left his mouth when a message indicator began to flash.
"They're asking us to hold," said the Navcom.
"Ignore them," shouted Hal over the rising noise of the main engines. Moments later, the ship began to move.
"Clear of the pad," called the Navcom. "Twenty metres and climbing."
"Keep her steady," said Hal, thinking he should be involved somehow.
"I can do nothing but," said the computer calmly. "What is our destination?"
Hal thought for a moment. "We ought to do the bank, but that's a long haul for Lucy. Can we drop her off first?"
"Destination confirmed as Oliape II," said the computer. "ETA one hour."
"And the bank after that?"
"ETA three hours."
Hal grinned. "This is how it's supposed to be. Load up, deliver, collect payment."
"One out of three isn't bad," said the computer.
*
Sonya crouched behind the fallen lifter as the Volante's engines blew clouds of dust across the dockyard. The noise was terrific, a howling roar which shook her teeth to their roots. A moment or two later she risked a quick look, only to see the ship high overhead and getting smaller by the second. As soon as she could make herself heard, she advanced on the foreman, who was sitting at the table with the mug of tea still half-raised to his lips. "You were supposed to hold him up, you moron!"
The foreman gave her a long, disturbed look. "Arrr," he said eventually.
Sonya slammed her fist on the battered table, the only level surface in sight. "I nearly had him!" she yelled. "You let him go, just like that!"
"He used the lifter," said the foreman, as if that were explanation enough for anyone.
Sonya looked around, seeing the damage for the first time. The walls of the shed had exploded outwards and were scattered around in pieces. The battered lifter had an old filing cabinet impaled on the forks, and there were shredded shipping dockets everywhere. "Did Spacejock do all this?" she demanded.
"Arrr."
"Shit," said Sonya, with a hint of admiration. "Some character." After a last look at the pinpoint of light overhead, she walked back to the cab. "Take me back to Curtis Freightlines."
"I trust your journey was worthwhile?" said the driver.
"Shut up and drive," snapped Sonya.
*
The Volante roared away from Ullimo, heading for the outbound hyperspace point. Hal was in the flight deck with a cup of coffee in his hand, standing by the console in case anything went wrong. According to the flight manual, being on the spot in an emergency was an important part of being in command. It was somewhat less forthcoming on the actual procedure, although the cartoon of a lantern-jawed hero rescuing a child from a stricken spaceship was encouraging.
Hal was just taking a sip of coffee when a red light flashed on the console. "What's that? What's gone wrong now?"
"It's an inbound call. Ullimo Museum."
Hal breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought it was something nasty. All right, put them on."
Arlene appeared on the screen, looking flustered. "Captain Spacejock, I'm sorry to call you like this. We closed the exhibition after an incident with one of the displays, and now your robot is missing."
"What do you mean, missing?"
"He's gone. I'm calling to see whether he returned to your spaceship."
"I haven't seen him all day." Hal frowned. "He's not the sort to do a runner. Are you sure he's not charging his batteries somewhere?"
"I suppose that's possible, although my people assure me they searched the hall."
"Maybe he ducked into a corridor. Can't you get them to search the whole place?"
"We'll get onto it right away, Mr Spacejock."
Hal cut the connection, and the screen switched to a star map with Ullimo and Oliape II highlighted. In the corner, the hyperspace countdown had frozen. "What happened to the jump?"
"Suspended pending our return to Ullimo."
"We're not going to Ullimo. We're going to Oliape."
The Navcom was silent. The counter didn't move.
"Navcom? Start the jump."
"Clunk is on Ullimo."
"So what? We're going to Oliape, then Ackexa, and then we're coming back to get Clunk. Now get the jump moving or I'll tip this coffee into the console."
Slowly, reluctantly, the timer began to move.
"Twenty minutes to hyperspace," said the Navcom sullenly.
Chapter 15
The atmosphere in the Volante's flight deck was strained, with forceful clicks and buzzes emanating from the console and the Navcom responding tersely to Hal's commands, if at all. Hal toyed with the controls as the Navcom prepared for the jump. "Are we ready yet?"
Silence.
"Navcom, quit messing around. We have customers waiting for this cargo."
More silence.
"If you don't get this jump happening I'll trade you for a pocket calculator."
The silence that followed this comment was deeper and more intense than ever. This silence made the others sound like an orchestra warming up.
"Navcom, talk to me."
There was a crackle from the speakers. "If I wasn't integrated with the ship, would you abandon me without a second thought?"
"Right now I'd abandon you without a first thought."
"Much as I suspected."
"Look, Clunk will be fine. He's resourceful, intelligent and —"
"Dispensable."
"Arlene is looking out for him! What else do you want me to do?"
"Return to Ullimo and find him."
"We don't know he's lost yet. Until she calls back —"
"At this very moment they could be burying Clunk under tons of refuse. Concealing him under mountains of waste. Smothering him with —"
"Arlene told me she hadn't seen him. She never said they'd dumped him."
"Clunk will never forgive you for this."
"Forgive me for what?" Hal examined the dregs in his cup. "They'll find him. It's a big museum, he probably just wandered off." He stood up and approached the coffee maker, inserted his mug in the tray and pressed the dispenser button. There was a whirr as the spout began to spin, and a hiss as it sprayed a fan of cold water across the flight deck. Hal jumped back, cursing as the stream of water struck him in the chest. "What's up with the bloody machine?"
"Unknown error," said th
e Navcom calmly. "Perhaps you should ask Clunk to take a look at it."
Hal's eyes narrowed. "So that's the game, is it?" He looked down at his soaking flight suit. "All right, I'm going to change out of this. You get us to Oliape."
"Understood loud and clear," said the Navcom.
Hal strode to the lift and pressed the call button, and was promptly zapped by a fierce electric charge. While he was massaging feeling back into his arm, the doors swept open. He took a step forward and the doors slammed to, almost snipping him in half. Hal sighed. It would be even worse down below … using the toilet was likely to cost him his —
Tinkle! Tinkle!
"Incoming call," said the Navcom. "It's Arlene."
Hal turned back to the console. "There you go, she's found him already. Go on, put her through."
Arlene appeared on the main screen. She didn't look like someone who had found a missing robot. She looked more like someone who had lost a close relative. "Mr Spacejock, I'm sorry."
"Where is he?"
"I'm not sure, but he's not in the building. None of my people have seen him."
"Okay, don't move. I'm coming back."
"We're closing for the day!"
"No you're not." Hal cut the connection. "Navcom, turn this thing around and get clearance for Ullimo."
"Complying," said the computer. "ETA thirty-seven minutes."
"Clunk's never going to forgive me for this."
"I said as much myself. Incidentally, the coffee maker is now fully operational."
"Wonderful. Excellent." Hal hesitated. "Is it safe to take a leak?"
*
Rex Curtis was at his desk with the sun streaming in through the tinted window behind him. Sonya was sitting opposite, squinting into the bright light.
"I don't like failures," growled Rex. "They make me nervous."
"Don't blame me! Dent wanted me to take a robot along, then I had to wait around while he looked for the manual, then —"
Rex raising his hand, cutting her off. "I've heard enough of your excuses. Spacejock's on his way to deliver that cargo, which is the very thing you were supposed to prevent."
"What about his robot?"
"Unlike you, I've taken care of my task."
"Yes, but Spacejock doesn't know that. Call him and tell him you found the thing."