The Knights of the Black Earth

by Margaret Weis; Don Perrin

  The commander returned to his office. Harry, looking nervous, grabbed a tool box and left with the Marine.

  Xris motioned for the rest of the team to follow him, headed for the service area—a computer station located near a major air exchange unit. Three large air conduits, over a meter in diameter, entered the exchanger. From there, the conduits branched out, stopped at various access ports throughout the station.

  “You’re in charge, Quong,” Xris told him.

  The Doc moved over to the computer, began tapping on the keyboard. After studying it a moment, he turned to the others.

  “According to Xris’s information, there are twenty-eight exterminator robots roaming around the facility, inside the air ducts. We bring them down through that conduit there to check their programming, update it if necessary, and replenish their chemical supply. Jamil, you and Tycho remove the air duct access ports. I’ve called ‘bots one, two, and three down for servicing.”

  A large metal conduit, attached to the air ducts, canted downward at a gentle slope, ending at deck level. A large metal plug sealed it shut. Tycho and Jamil removed the plug just as the first ‘bot rumbled down the conduit and exited onto the floor. The ‘bot was cylindrical in shape, moved on crawler tracks, and didn’t look particularly intelligent.

  Jamil hooked up the hose from the chemical tank on his cart to ‘bot one. As he refilled its tanks, Tycho ran the self-check program built into the unit. That was routine. What wasn’t routine was the placement of a microchip specially designed by Quong. Minuscule in size and perfectly harmless—unless activated—one microchip inside the ‘bot’s complex inner workings would never be noticed.

  By the time the team had finished with the first ‘bot, numbers two and three had arrived. Quong ordered robot one back into the duct. Tycho placed identical microchips in ‘bots two and three.

  ‘Bot five had just been serviced when Xris heard a beep in his ear. He looked around. Station personnel were moving through the work area, going about their business. No one was paying any attention to the exterminators.

  Xris activated the comm. “Xris here.”

  “Harry here. I’m in the can just outside security. I’m surrounded! Two guys are working the computers and monitors and that damned Marine’s still with me. Nobody told him he could go home, so he’s sticking to my ass like one of those fleas I was reading about. I’m surprised he’s not inside the stall with me. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  Raoul, where are you when I need you? Xris asked silently. The charming Loti would have sent the Marine out for coffee and a sandwich, kept the security officers sniggering at the latest Adonian ribald jokes, while artlessly leading the conversation around to FCWing. (“I heard the juiciest rumor about one of our employees and one of yours. Doing something more than killing bugs, if you know what I mean! He worked in ... let me see ... somewhere called FCWing. Yes! In the women’s restroom, no less!”)

  And while the security officers were thinking about FCWing, the Little One would have sucked their minds dry.

  “Harry, we’ve been through this.” Xris remembered to be patient. “Tell the security personnel you’ve got to keep an eye on these ‘bots and in order to do that you have to know where the conduits run. Have security pull up floor plans, and study them. When you come to one called CCA-2 FCWing, let me know where it’s located.”

  “Okay, right.” Harry sounded glum. “I’ll give it a try. Out.”

  Xris shook his head, turned to Quong. “This may take a while, Doc. Once you’ve serviced ‘bot fifteen, slow down a bit. Buy us some time.”

  Quong passed the word to Tycho and Jamil, who began to ease up. They had just serviced ‘bot twenty, with no word from Harry, when Quong tapped Xris on the shoulder.

  “Here comes trouble,” the Doc warned under his breath.

  Commander Drake had emerged from his office. “You guys are running a little behind schedule.”

  “It’s this new software upgrade,” Xris explained. “It’s taking a while to install—” His commlink buzzed in his ear.

  “Xris!” It was Harry.

  “Maybe you should explain this to me.” Drake was talking at the same time.

  Xris looked blank. “Did you say something, Commander?”

  Drake raised his voice. “I was saying maybe—”

  “Sorry, Commander!” Xris shook his head violently, tapped on his ear. “My hearing unit appears to have shorted out. If you don’t mind, I’ll go fix it. Aleko here will answer your questions.”

  Tycho, taking the hint, pounced on Drake, began talking.

  “We’re updating the maneuver routines in the robots, Commander. The plan is to allow one ‘bot to go to the aid of another ‘bot if it finds a large breeding nest. We figure that this will increase the effectiveness of the program immensely. Have the fleas been bad lately?”

  Xris moved off, keeping a close watch on Drake. Fortunately, the commander was more interested in fleas than in malfunctioning cyborgs.

  “Xris here. What’s up, Harry?” Xris asked in a low voice, cupping his hand over his ear.

  “I think I’ve got a fix on that location for you. Lima Three Niner, Deck Eight. If FCWing’s not there, it’s real close.”

  “Right. Harry, pay close attention to the monitors. There’s going to be some activity up there, so be prepared to handle it. I can’t talk anymore. We’ve got company.” Xris cut off Harry’s protest.

  “We’ve been having a problem with the fleas down here,” Drake was saying to Tycho. “The filters catch them in the air exchangers and they’re breeding—”

  Xris returned. “If you don’t mind, Commander, we are running behind schedule and my men need to get back to work.”

  “You want me out of the way.” Drake smiled broadly. “I understand. Stop by my office before you leave, if you have time. The other crew usually does. I’ve got hot tea, fresh doughnuts.”

  “Sure thing, sir. Thanks,” Xris said, and watched the commander walk off.

  A nice guy. Xris hoped like hell nothing would go wrong. He turned to Quong, who was scratching at his neck.

  “With all this talk of fleas, I’m starting to itch.”

  “It’s all in your head. Listen, I’ve had word from Harry. Lima Three Niner, Deck Eight.”

  Quong ran a check. “That area’s serviced by ‘bot eleven—one Tycho’s already ‘fixed.’ “

  Xris breathed a sigh. That would save time. His luck was holding.

  “I’ll start the malfunction cycle.” Quong pulled out a handheld minicomputer from the pocket of his coveralls.

  He tapped in several commands, extended the small antenna, and transmitted instructions. Several seconds later, the microchip that Tycho had installed into the ‘bot’s control circuitry responded.

  “All systems go,” the Doc announced.

  A minute passed. Xris glanced at Quong.

  “Don’t worry, Xris. It’ll work.”

  Tycho and Jamil continued to perform their chores on the ‘bots, but both kept an eye on Quong’s computer.

  Another minute passed. Xris looked back at Drake’s office. The door remained shut. Another minute ...

  Commander Drake burst out of his office, waving his arms to attract their attention. He began shouting at them when he was still about twenty meters distant.

  Xris ceased work, loped toward him. “What is it, Commander? What’s all the excitement?”

  “Security called. One of your ‘bots is malfunctioning! It’s dumped its chemicals. The stuff’s dripping down out of the ceiling into the offices! Is it poisonous? Should I evacuate personnel?”

  “No, sir!” Xris said hastily, not having foreseen such a drastic response. “No need to evacuate anyone. The chemicals are perfectly safe. Unless you’re a flea,” he added with a grin that he hoped didn’t look as corpselike as it felt.

  Drake wasn’t amused. “Well, toxic or not, that gunk’s liable to get into the computer systems. You better take care of it.”
>
  “Yes, sir. We can probably fix it from the station.”

  Xris moved back to Quong. Drake tromped along behind, breathing down his neck. “One of the ‘bots is malfunctioning. See if you can bring it up on the screen.”

  “Sure thing. Where is the ‘bot located, Commander?”

  “FCWing.”

  “And where’s that, sir?”

  “Lima Three Niner, Deck Eight. It should be in the ducting off junction three-eighty-one.”

  Quong brought up the control routine for ‘bot eleven. He tapped keys, gloomily shook his head.

  “It doesn’t seem to be responding. I can’t gain control from here.” He glanced at Xris. “You’ll have to go fix it by hand.”

  Drake frowned. “That’s a secure area. I’m not sure—”

  “Excuse me, Commander,” Jamil intervened. “But if this ‘bot is dumping its chemicals, it’s probably shorting out. Which means it could lose its programming and take off on its own. If it starts wandering around the air ducts, we might never find it. It might crash into something vital.”

  Drake looked worried. “Right, I see your point.” He thought a moment. “Why don’t you give me instructions on how to fix it. I’ll go-”

  “It takes special tools. I’ll have to train you—”

  “There’s no time for that, Schwartz,” Quong yelled. “The ‘bot’s starting to veer off course!”

  Drake looked frazzled. He could handle an enemy bombardment. A runaway bug-’bot was something new in his experience. “Hell! Wait a minute. I’ll get someone to escort you.”

  The commander bellowed. Everyone in the area halted, froze. The commander bellowed again, this time added a name.

  A short man in Navy coveralls jerked his head up, waved in response, came trotting over.

  “Technician Collins.” Drake performed hurried introductions. “Schwartz here’s got a malfunctioning ‘bot. Take him up to FCWing. Help out if he needs it.”

  “Yes, sir. Schwartz, if you’ll follow me . ..” Xris had to restrain himself from grinning widely at the others. Looking serious and stern, he grabbed a tool box from the cart, followed the technician.

  Behind him, Commander Drake called out. “Good hunting, Schwartz.”

  Chapter 16

  When the speed of the hawk is such that it can strike and kill, this is precision.

  Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Outside the work area, Xris and his escort entered a corridor with dim lighting, white walls that ended in a T-junction. The tech turned left, punched an elevator button.

  “Deck Eight,” Collins commanded when the lift arrived and he and Xris were inside.

  The doors opened onto another corridor that looked exactly like the first, except that this one had a large “8” stenciled on the wall and a sign reading: SECURE AREA, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  “I’ll need to stay with you at all times, sir,” said the tech.

  Yes, well, that was going to be a small problem.

  Xris smiled, nodded, said nothing.

  Collins took the first corridor they came to, which branched to the left. He stopped in front of the second door on the right. The computerized sign above the door read FCWING.

  Alarms on Xris’s cybernetic arm started beeping, LEDs flashed red.

  The tech glanced at him in astonishment.

  Xris jerked up the sleeve of his coveralls, made a quick adjustment of the fluid levels to the hydraulics. His heart was pumping like a photon combustion chamber.

  “All fine now,” Xris said.

  The technician raised an eyebrow, but placed one hand on the security pad to the right of the door, held up a pass with the other. “Collins, Maintenance, Access Two Eight One Alpha Two.”

  The door opened.

  The tech entered, Xris almost tripping on his heels.

  The room was softly lit, glowed with the eerie light of innumerable computer screens of various shapes and sizes. Xris’s augmented hearing caught the soft hum of the machinery that was banked along a wall to his right.

  The center of the room contained several work desks. Xris recognized standard data- and commlink receivers and transmitters, digital state diagrams, and three-dimensional holographic data abstraction diagrams—all had been hastily shoved aside. A puddle of orangish, greenish liquid—dripping from the ceiling—had accumulated on the desk and was slowly starting to ooze to the floor.

  A man, standing beside the desk, was staring up at the ceiling in baffled astonishment. A woman was on the comm, yelling at security.

  Xris gave the woman a close scrutiny, comparing her to the picture of Darlene Mohini burned into his brain.

  It wasn’t her.

  He glanced swiftly around the room.

  On the left-hand side was a wall with a single door. The wall was plastered with electronic scratch boards. Across them were drawn mathematical equations, bits of computer code, diagrams, and sketches of equipment. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Xris could have sworn he recognized the neat, precise handwriting. He looked again at the door.

  It was shut. But another computerized sign on the wall beside it flashed: CCA-2.

  Xris heard Wiedermann’s reedy voice echo in his mind.

  Her job description reads: CCA-2. Clerical work, maybe. We have no idea what CCA stands for, but a level 2 employee ...

  “I’m from Olicien Pest Control,” Xris began. The words came out a croak and he was forced to stop to cough, clear his throat. “It looks as if you’ve found our malfunctioning ‘bot.”

  “Is that what it is?” The man, staring at the ceiling, shook his head. “I never would have guessed.”

  “Who would? One of those damn bug-’bots,” said the woman, from her position next to the comm. “And you said it was the toilets backing up.”

  “So? What do I know?” The man glared at Xris. “You gonna fix it or what?”

  The woman remained standing next to the comm. Xris discovered that his metal hand had clenched into a fist. He made a conscious effort to relax. He had to get rid of these two and the tech.

  Dalin Rowan was in that office. Xris knew it as surely as he knew he was trapped inside his damn metal body. And he wondered why, with all the commotion, Rowan hadn’t come out to investigate. A thought chilled him. Maybe Rowan was on coffee break. Lunch break. Gone to powder her nose ...

  Xris had a sudden memory of his friend—hunched over a computer, rapt, enthralled, completely oblivious to anything happening around him. Once they’d been caught in a firefight, forced to shoot it out with some goons. Rowan, breaking into the computer, had been negotiating a maze of security traps in an effort to crack the system. The goons attacked. Laser beams flashed around him. He kept working. He’d won a commendation for bravery. Only he and Xris and Ito knew—and often joked about it later—that Rowan hadn’t even been aware a firefight was going on.

  “Who’s in there?” Xris asked, pointing at the CCA-2 sign.

  The woman followed his gaze. “That’s Major Mohini’s office. We didn’t want to interrupt her work. But perhaps I better tell her—” She started toward the door.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Xris intervened. “The problem’s out here.”

  Moving to the desk, he noticed a splotch of green on the sleeve of the man’s uniform. “You didn’t get any of this on your skin, did you?”

  The man glanced down. “Well, some of it splashed onto my hand and the back of my neck, but—”

  “Is it toxic?” The woman was alarmed.

  Xris had no idea whether it was or not, but this was too good to pass up.

  “Look, I don’t want to frighten you,” he began in a calm, soothing tone guaranteed to scare the hell out of everyone. “But you better get to the washroom. Scrub that stuff off. Use strong soap. Does it burn or itch? You’re not dizzy, are you?”

  “Well ... maybe a little ...” The man was gulping, rubbing at his hand. “And it ... it is beginning to burn—”

  Xris turned to the other tw
o. “Take him to the john. Wash that stuff off him. Then get him to sick bay. You both better go with him. He may feel faint.”

  The woman hurried to help her friend.

  “I’m nauseous,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’m not sure I can walk.”

  “Lean on me,” the woman told him.

  “You better go, too,” Xris told the tech.

  “But I’m not supposed to leave you—”

  “If he keels over, she’ll never be able to hold him up.” Xris moved closer to the tech, spoke in low, urgent tones. “You’ve got to rinse the skin with water and soap within five minutes or that stuff can seep into the bloodstream. And then ...” He shrugged.

  The tech wavered.

  “I feel sick.” The man rocked on his feet.

  Either the stuff was toxic or he was extremely susceptible to the power of suggestion. The woman struggled to support him, but she was short and he was tall.

  “Crewman! Give me some help here!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Obeying orders was deeply ingrained. The tech turned to Xris. “Please stay here until I can send someone to escort you, sir. It’s for your own safety.”

  “Sure thing,” Xris promised. “Oh, if they don’t see me at first, tell them not to panic. I may be up inside the air ducts.”

  The tech waved his hand in acknowledgment and ran off.

  The door shut, sealed behind him.

  Xris climbed onto the desk, reached up, removed a couple of ceiling panels. If security entered the room, they’d spend the first few moments searching for him up there. Once the panels were gone—leaving a gaping hole in the ceiling—Xris jumped down, turned to the door marked CCA-2.

  “Jamil,” he said over the comm. “I’m in FCWing. I sent my escort off and I’m alone now, but I won’t be for long. Everything okay with you down there? Still got company?”

  “Everything’s quiet. Security reported you found the malfunctioning ‘bot. The commander was thrilled. He went back into his hole.”