Space Tales (Seven For Space)

by William F. Nolan

  "And did I kill her?"

  "Indirectly. You put her under so much stress her heart exploded. Happens with tripleheads — as I guess you know."

  "And why, Mr. Space, asked the middle head, "if I'm the guilty party, did I admit you to my workden?"

  "To find out if I know where the gizmo is. You figured she just might have lived long enough to tell me. She didn't."

  "Ah, said the bearded head, "and how do I know you're telling me the truth?"

  "This chair I'm sitting in is equipped with a body temp detector. If I lied, you'd know it by my buttocks' emotional response."

  "You are very observant, Mr. Space."

  "It's my job. I try to keep up with the latest sazz."

  "Well, and all three heads sighed. "I suppose there's no real reason to torture you to death for the information I'm seeking."

  "Thanks, I said. "I've never enjoyed being tortured to death."

  "But what am I going to do with you? I cannot allow you to return to Mars knowing as much as you do, now can I?"

  "Sure you can, I said. "My desk knows I was coming here to see you. If I don't get back okay, it will relay that info to the law and you'll be the one answering all the questions. Since I don't know what the gizmo is that you're looking for, and since I don't know where to find it, you're safe in letting me go back to Mars with a little buy-off money in my kick."

  "Buy off?"

  "To insure that I'll keep my yap shut." I held out my hand. "Ten thousand creds should take care of my big mouth. So fork it over, chum."

  All three of his faces went red. Mr. G. was one sore dude. What he wanted to do was kill me. What he did was pay me.

  "Obliged, I said, pocketing the creds.

  Of course it was blackmail, but with a prime scuzzball like Geever, I didn't mind putting the blocks to him.

  "Let me warn you, Mr. Space, he said through his beard, "if you wish to remain alive, you are to forget what you know and drop this entire situation from your mind. Is that clearly understood?"

  "Yo," I nodded. "I get your drift."

  And I was out of there.

  Back on Big Red I headed for the Boneyard again, feeling stupid. The reason I felt that way is because I had failed to run a complete bod-check on the deadtrip. Sure, I had sense enough to get her skull number, but I hadn't checked her body for what I now suspected was there: info on where she'd hidden the gizmo.

  This time I decided to short out the electrofence and go in that way, avoiding the guard robo. Once inside, I dug up my triplehead. She was a little the worse for wear, but before putting her into the ground I'd given her an injection which delayed organ decay for 36 hours, so at least I didn't have to contend with a rotting stiff.

  I checked her bod and hit the jackpot when I found a fake molar in the middle head and removed it. Inside the hollow tooth was a foilslip with the info I needed. Loc 29-Z, Subbase, DArms. Which told me she'd stashed the gizmo in Locker No. 29, Row Z, in the subbasement of the Darkside Arms. And I kept the foilslip, knowing the locker wouldn't open without it.

  On the express Mooner back to Luna I figured I was playing a very dangerous game, double-crossing Mr. G. and going for his gizmo. I got the first indication of trouble when a spider assassin attacked me in the ship's john.

  He was a real pro, with enough arms to do the job on three or four of me. He had one arm around my throat, another was crushing my rib-cage, a third was going for a crotch-crush (really painful!), and a fourth was battering my kneecaps. I managed to activate my buckle, which released a swarm of nitrodarts from the back of my belt. They took out the assassin in a single explosion and parts of him rained down on me in a gooey shower. Took me a while to clean myself up.

  When we touched down on Luna, I was in a depressed state, realizing how dumb I was to be going up against a solar kingpin like Mr. G. The spider man had undoubtedly been instructed to blitz me for the info on Mr. G.'s missing gizmo.

  How did he know I had the info? Well, I wouldn't be coming back to Luna this soon without it, would I?

  So what chance did one antiquated private eye have against a multizillionaire with half the goons in the System working for him? Space, I told myself, this time you've gone round the bend. You're wacko! And all because I'd found a deadtrip in my bedroom.

  Okay! I reasoned with myself, once I find out what the gizmo is, then maybe I'll let Mr. G. have it back. I told myself I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity. That's what I told myself.

  I got into the locker area at the Darkside Arms with no sweat. All I had to do was flash the foil. I asked for privacy and got it. Opened Locker 29-Z, and there was the gizmo. I took it out, looked it over.

  A shiny silver orb the size of an Earth grapefruit. With metalloid plugs at one end.

  It reminded me of something familiar, but what? I couldn't get a mindfix on it. I decided to hang onto the thing until I could ID it. Which meant I had to take some immediate precautions.

  I had my identiswitch kit with me, and I made sure that Sam Space did not walk out of that building. Oh, sure, I left — but with a new nose, altered cheekbones and skull configuration, fresh body hair, and a change of clothes. (I simply reversed the outfit I was wearing.) The disguise would get me back to Mars at least, and from there it would be touch and go, with all the odds in Mr. G's favor.

  But I was willing to take the risk.

  Actually, I didn't go back to Mars. Not yet. Instead, I booked a warper for Earth.

  When I walked into Nathan Oliver's workshop under the Art Museum in Old Chicago my fat friend was waiting for me. I'd vidphoned from the landing port to tell him I was coming.

  We embraced. I had a warm spot in my heart for this bell-shaped, pink-jowled little man. We'd been linked on a lot of wild capers, and Nate had saved my life more than a couple of times.

  "Sam, Sam, Sam, he said, looking at me. "Is it still you under all the gook?"

  I took off my fake nose, retroaltered my skull and cheeks, and got rid of the excess body hair. "It's me, I said.

  We embraced again. Nate loved to give bear hugs to people he cared about. Then we sat down on Elvis Presley.

  "I made him into a couch, Nate said, smiling.

  Nate's hobby was making furniture out of film legends. He'd done a fine job with Elvis.

  "I can't wait to find out why you're here, Samuel, Oliver said, smacking his thick red lips. "It's bound to be exciting. Always is!"

  "I found something I want you to try and identify, I told him. "With all the nutty inventions you work on, I figured you might be able to tell me what this is."

  And I handed him the round silver object.

  "This is an oversized android's left testicle, he said matter-of-factly.

  "Huh?" I blinked. "You mean … it's a robot's nut?"

  "In erstwhile slang, yes."

  I leaned back into Elvis, more than a little stunned. "But what's it for?"

  "What any testicle is for, said Nate. "It supplies a sexual substance which travels through the penis and is expelled at orgasm. In this case, from a robotic penis."

  "Robo semen?"

  "I'll have to analyze it in my lab before I can tell you the exact nature of the substance."

  "Then do it, I said. "I want to know what's in there."

  I paced the room nervously while Nate worked in his lab. I tried sitting down to relax, first on Al Pacino, then on Barbara Walters, but it was no good. So I just paced. Somehow, I knew that whatever was in that robot's nut, was of major importance. Call it instinct, but I knew.

  Nate returned with the testicle.

  "Well?"

  "It's pipium, he said.

  "What's pipium?"

  Nate didn't answer. Instead, he slowly raised his arms in the air, staring fearfully at someone behind me. It was Mr. G. holding a Freebish-Etchison .620 Magrifle in his manicured hand. Two other armed goons were in the doorway.

  "I shall be delighted to show you exactly what pipium is, and what it does, said the smiling Geever, let
ting his bearded head do the talking. "You shall both accompany me back to Luna as my personal guests for a special demonstration."

  "How'd you know I was here?" I asked him.

  "I've had you followed ever since our little talk, said Mr. G. "I knew it was simply a matter of time until you led me to the testicle."

  "But I took your money and agreed to quit the case."

  "Of course, but I knew curiosity would force you to continue. All I had to do was be patient."

  "And the spider assassin?"

  "I allowed you to kill him. To give you a false sense of security." He prodded me with the barrel of the Freebish-Etchison. "And now … shall we, to use your quaint slang, split out of this joint?"

  We split.

  I was really in the soup. I'd played myself for a prime sap all the way down the line. Maybe if I'd turned over the nut to Geever I wouldn't be in this fix, but no, Geever would have iced me no matter what I did. Still, Nate wouldn't be taking the fall with me if I hadn't involved him in all this.

  Damn!

  We were taken straight to Geever's main lab on Luna. Vast and impressive. State-of-the-art equipment. I got the feeling he could build anything here. But I wasn't ready for what he actually had built.

  His goons kept us continually in their gun sights, leaving Geever free to conduct the grand tour. He escorted us to the far end of the cavernous chamber — to a tall, alum-covered object which extended halfway to the high ceiling.

  "Before I unveil my masterwork, Geever said, "I shall keep my promise as to informing you about pipium."

  "That's real kind, Mr. G, I said. "You're a sweetheart."

  I knew he intended to kill us, that he was simply playacting for his own amusement. But there was nothing I could do about it.

  "Pipium is extremely rare. In fact, this testicle, and he held it up, slowly turning the silvery orb in his hand, "holds the last grains of it known to exist in our galaxy. It acts in the same manner as plutonium did on the atomic bomb back in your twentieth earthcentury."

  "You've built a super bomb!" breathed Nate. It was the first time he'd spoken to Geever since we arrived on Luna.

  "Not exactly, said Mr. G. "I think that as a fellow-inventor, Mr. Oliver, you'll agree that what I have built is far more sophisticated and, one could say, inspiring. "

  He gestured to a goon, and the alum covering slid away from the giant object in front of us. My jaw fell. I was gaping. Nate's eyes were bugging.

  "Ah, I see that you are both properly awestruck at my little creation, he said.

  And we were.

  Looming above us were two giant, cunningly-fashioned nude robots, a male and a female, their shining metal skins reflecting the lab lights as they leaned into one another's arms in a frozen embrace. Their heads were close together, lips almost touching.

  "They are poised to make love, Geever told us. "All I need do to activate them is plug into its proper place." He held up the robot testicle.

  Now I could see that the left nut was missing on the genitals of the male robot.

  "So you've built yourself a couple of sex toys to get off with, I said. "What I don't fathom is what these two tin lovebirds have to do with the atomic bomb."

  "Once they begin to make love, Mr. Space, Geever said, "you will find they are capable of far more than sexual amusement."

  He walked over to a massive screen to the left, pressed a stud at its base. My home planet hovered to life on the screen like a giant blue and white marble. Beautiful! Good old Earth. No matter how long I lived on Mars, I was an Earthling to my blood and bones.

  "You will have the unique privilege of watching the demise of this miserable planet, Geever said.

  "What the hell are you saying?" I snapped at him.

  "The testicle activates what I call my Doomsday Device, declared Mr. G. "When the robots' lovemaking reaches climax, their double orgasm will set off a cosmic vibration powerful enough to detonate the Earth. You will be able to see it blown apart on the tri-dim screen. In fact, I shall set the screen at slow motion, so you won't miss any of the explosive details." And he chuckled at his word play.

  I knew he wasn't kidding. This guy had the power and the money to do almost anything.

  "But why destroy Earth?" I asked.

  "Because I loathe and detest that pale ball of clay, he replied, his middle mouth twisting with anger.

  I wasn't going to argue with him. Geever was totally crackers, that was clear. But I did want to keep him talking. I needed to stall for time, to try and think of a way to stop him …

  "What did Roberta Sashonon have to do with all this?" I asked. "How did she end up with your testicle?"

  "I trusted her!" raged Geever, giving full vent to his anger. All three of his faces were red. "I told her I loved her, set her up in a unit of her own, gave her expensive gifts — and she betrayed me. She unplugged the testicle and made off with it. I couldn't kill her, as much as I wanted to, not until I'd regained my testicle."

  "But why did she steal it?" I wanted to know. "For money?"

  "No, no not for that. She knew I'd provide her with all the money she wanted. She told me she did it to save Earth."

  "But why risk her life for Earth? She was a Venusian."

  "She was in love with an Earthman. Imagine — falling in love with a man with just one head! It's revolting. She wanted him to leave Earth and live on Venus with her, but he refused — so she visited him regularly in New Old New York. When I thought she was visiting her sister on Venus, she was actually copulating with this miserable Earthman. When I found out about the affair, I built the Doomsday Device. I intended to make her watch as I destroyed Earth, and her lover along with it. That's when she made off with my testicle, knowing that I needed it to activate my creation."

  "And you had her followed to my place in Bubble City?"

  "Yes, but I told my goons not to harm her. I was hoping she'd reveal the location of the testicle. I had not counted on her heart giving out. We tripleheads are far too emotional for our own good."

  "If you're an example, I'd have to agree, I told him.

  "Enough of this chatter. It's time to eliminate Earth. I can't force that dead bitch to watch, but at least the two of you can fill in for her. Sorry I can't be here to share the fun."

  "You're going to miss your own show?" I asked.

  "Oh, no. I'll see it all from my ship's port window, he said. "Naturally, I can't stay here. When Earth disintegrates, it will take Luna with it. When that occurs, I shall be on my personal warper for Venus. Homeward bound."

  "And we'll die here?" Nate asked.

  "Of course, nodded all three of Geever's heads, "but you'll live to see Earth die first. And now, gentlemen, let us allow our two metal lovers to have at one another. I'll stay long enough to witness their erotic progress, but I'll have to be leaving when they reach their pre-orgasmic state."

  I watched Geever walk over to the giant love rebots. Mounting a small ladder, he reached the male's genital level, leaned forward, gave us a triple smile, and plugged in the left testicle.

  The two big robos began to glow.

  A pair of Geever's goons slammed me into a chair and tapewired my hands behind my back.

  "This doesn't look good, Samuel, Nate said.

  "I've had better days, I admitted.

  Then they went for Nate, but he seemed to go suddenly berserk. He charged the first goon, bringing him down with a head-butt. Then he grabbed the goon's laser weapon.

  "Kill him!" shouted Geever's three heads.

  A sizzle of laser fire sliced into poor Nate and he staggered back, falling to the polished nearfloor. His eyes fluttered … closed … and then he didn't move anymore.

  They'd killed my best friend!

  "That was very foolish of him, said Geever, gazing down at the motionless corpse with two of his heads.

  "You lousy three-necked bastard!" I shouted, lunging against the tapewire. But it held, and there was nothing I could do. Meanwhile, the two big robot lo
vers were heating up, fondling one another, deep-kissing, writhing together in a sensuous tangle of arms and glowing metalflesh.

  "Amazingly erotic, is it not?" asked Geever, licking all of his lips.

  Their lovemaking had become a light show of rippling auras and bands of shimmering color as the metal bodies radiated intense heat. The male had penetrated the female and his pistoning movements were speeding up.

  "Ah, they have reached the pre-orgasmic state, Geever observed. "As much as I hate to leave before the climax, I had best be moving along. Goodbye, Mr. Space. I'm sure you'll enjoy the remainder of my little show."

  I found myself alone in the vast lab, watching in numbed shock as the two big robos approached orgasm. The ground was beginning to tremble, and I could see a few cracks opening across the ceiling. On the screen, good old green-hilled Earth still floated in space, but how much longer did the planet have? Hell of a way to see it go!

  I was totally frustrated. Was there no way to stop these infernal robots?

  There was.

  Nate Oliver stopped them.

  He materialized next to his own corpse, wearing a visored helmet and a pair of long heat-resist bodygloves.

  "Hello, Samuel, he said, his pink jowls quivering. "Sorry it took me so long to get here."

  He then mounted the ladder, reached forward, and calmly unplugged the male rebot's left nut. "There. That should do it."

  It did it.

  The two big robots were instantly frozen in mid-screw.

  No orgasm.

  No disintegration of Earth … or of Luna … or of me.

  Nate stripped away the tapewire and I stood up, rubbing circulation back into my wrists.

  "I don't get it, I said, nodding toward the stiff on the nearfloor. Quite simple to explain, really, said Nate, taking off his helmet. "When I was in my lab room during your visit, analyzing the testicle, I spotted our three-headed friend and his goon squad on the premises."

  I started to ask how, but he said, "Vision screens. I have several placed at strategic points. Thus forewarned, I sent this android duplicate of myself back with the testicle and remained hidden until the pair of you were taken away."

  "Since you saw Geever grab us, what took you so long to get here? You could have used your time-snatcher."