“Anyway, Strauss reports back to the Navy that the robot is not in working condition. The Navy wants it anyway, of course. Meanwhile, the Corasian agent Harsch hears about the robot. How? Good question. Most likely his contacts in the Navy. He wants the robot to sell to the Corasians.
“Now, why would he do that,” Darlene asked herself, “if he knew the robot didn’t work? That wouldn’t make any sense. But suppose he knew the robot did work. Then it would be highly valuable to the Corasians. Especially if he knew about the existence of the Collimated Command Receiver Unit. It would be interesting to ask this Grant fellow if anyone ever offered him a lot of money for his machine or maybe tried to steal it....
“Anyway, let’s say Harsch knows that the Collimated Command Receiver Unit exists and that he can get his hands on it. All he has to do now is find one of the antique robots. He does and it’s in the ideal place, the ideal time for him to snatch it.
“It is in an ideal place, isn’t it?” Darlene said, now talking to her reflection in the window. She had fit the corner pieces of the puzzle together, put together the outer rim. Now she could start on the interior. The complete picture was staring emerge. “A little too ideal. This was all a trap! The Navy set a trap for Harsch. Except ii was Xris and Jamil who walked into it. The robot was the bait. What the Navy didn’t count on was the fact that the Collimated Command Receiver Unit still existed. Harsch didn’t count on the fact that Grant would take llie machine and skip town with it....
“No! Wait! What if Grant is linked in with Harsch? Xris says Grant is a mild-mannered, intellectual type, but then so was Clark Kent. Maybe Grant’s trying to double-cross Harsch. Or link up with Harsch.... Bother.
That piece doesn’t quit fit. Grant told Xris to blow the plane up. He wouldn’t say that if he were one of the bad guys. Unless Grant knew that Xris knew that Grant knew and he was trying to throw us off....”
Darlene rubbed her temples. This was starting to give her a headache.
“Never mind. That’s not important now. What is clear is that apparently no one—maybe not even Harsch himself—counted on the fact that the unit and the robot would establish a dialogue, steal a plane, and go around the galaxy taking out space Lanes!
“I don’t like this,” Darlene said softly. “It all looks very ugly. And Xris isn’t being told the whole story. Not by a long shot. There’s something I’m missing somewhere. But I can’t take time to work on that part of this now. The important thing is to stop the robot before it kills someone.”
Darlene brought up the robot’s flight trajectory. Its path seemed random, at first glance, but she knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. Robots never perform any task randomly.
She punched up a galactic map. A flashing dot indicated the last known location of the robot. Red flashing lines indicated the Lane that had been removed. Yellow steadily glowing lines indicated Lanes in the area that were, as yet, still functioning. Since the robot had only taken out one Lane, the ‘bot hadn’t established a pattern. Had it taken out that Lane because it was there? It was close? Or ...
Darlene isolated the robot’s particular sector of space and zoomed in on that portion. The Navy had provided her with the coordinates for the space Lanes in that zone. She was studying these when it occurred to her that something about that sector of space seemed awfully familiar.
Much too familiar.
Darlene left the computer, hurried over to the nightstand. Rummaging through the drawer, she came across an electronic circular, which provided travelers with interesting information on their cruise, gave instructions for emergency evacuation, told where to find the life pods, reminded passengers of the serious nature of rescue drills, and provided a map and coordinates of their sojourn through space. She compared that map with the map on her screen.
“Damnation!” said Darlene.
The robot had entered Lane number Zeta Three Nine Three Omega. That was a short-hop Lane, a Lane that took planes from the outer portion of the sector to the inner. At least that’s what it used to do. It wasn’t there to do anything anymore. The Claymore had come out of the Jump in exactly the same sector of space as the Adonian cruise ship, the S.S. Heart’s Desire.
A knock sounded on her cabin door.
Darlene ignored it.
The knock was repeated.
Darlene touched her commlink. “I’m busy.”
The knock was repeated again, more insistently.
“I’m not dressed,” Darlene snapped. She wasn’t planning on opening the door to anyone. “Say whatever it is you have to say and then leave me alone.”
“Captain’s compliments, ma’am. We’ll be making the Jump in approximately two hours. I’ve made a note that you are in your cabin. Please remain within for the durat—”
“Fine, thanks,” she muttered, absorbed in her calculations.
Idiots. Why couldn’t they leave her alone when she was working? She frowned at her reflection in the window and put herself into the mind of the robot.
“I’ve been programmed to lay Lanes,” she said. “I lay them in a systematic manner. I’m halfway through my assignment—let’s say—when I’m attacked. Someone is trying to capture me. I do what the professor has instructed me to do. I run. I don’t get far—this sector of space is the sector which contains Pan dor—and then either my plane is shot down or I cause it to crash in order to avoid pursuit. I am struck on the head, take a long nap.
“I wake up. I’m fine. Something’s a little wrong with my internal workings, maybe, but nothing that I can’t self-repair. To me, two minutes have passed, not two thousand years worth of minutes. I send out my signal, to let the professor know I’m alive and well, and I receive a signal back. I know, by that signal, that I’m supposed to get up and go to work. I have probably been programmed to escape confinement—the good professor being the lovable paranoid that he is. I free myself from the crate, commandeer the first spaceplane I come across. I also end up with a human, one Jeffrey Grant, which doesn’t compute,” Darlene admitted, “but I’ll worry about that later.
“I go back to work. I’m ready to lay another Lane. I send out the signal, expecting to hear the professor’s reassuring voice—and I don’t. Something’s wrong. The professor doesn’t like what I’ve done. I act to correct the situation. I take out the Lanes ... in the order in which I’ve laid them! Of course! The next one I take out will be the one I laid prior to the one I just took out. Now ... how can I possibly figure out which one that will be?”
She went back through all the information she had received on the robot, endeavoring to find some sort of pattern—not easy, since the robot had only removed one Lane. Darlene had to assume that the robot would take out Lanes systematically; that it wouldn’t, for example, suddenly jump from one sector to another without reason. If it did that, she was finished before she began. So far, the robot had behaved quite logically. There was no reason to think it would deviate.
But still, there were myriad Lanes in this sector. Darlene fed the information into the computer, started it working. She began work on her own calculations as well, hoping to be able to make an intuitive leap which would arrive at the answer in less time than the computer would take sifting methodically through all the alternatives. Leap taken, she could use the computer to check her conclusion.
In the meantime, she would contact the Navy, have them advise each ship in this part of space that no ship was, on any account—
A voice came over the commlink. “This is your captain speaking. We will be making the Jump in approximately one hour and thirty minutes. Naval regulations require that all passengers return to your cabins at this time. Please ...”
“Oh, hell!” Darlene stood up, walked to the door, stopped, turned around, walked back, sat down again. “Hell and damnation!”
She’d done it again. Such absentmindedness was a common failing of hers, as Xris would no doubt remind her, if and when he ever heard about this. If she lived to tell him. She had become so absorbed in th
e intellectual complexities of this problem that she had completely forgotten how said problem might impact on her. Her and about two thousand other people on board this ship.
And what the hell was the Navy doing?
She called up RFComSec, demanded that the computer patch her through to the Lord Admiral’s flagship, the King James II, asked to speak to someone in command.
“General Hanson here.”
“General, this is Major Mohini.”
“I must inform you, Major, that you are AWOL and—”
“Yes, yes!” Darlene snapped. “We’ll discuss that later, ma’am. For now, I’ve been assigned to track down that runaway robot.”
“I know.” The general frowned. “I advised against bringing you in on this, but I was overruled. The Lord Admiral wanted to speak to you himself, but he’s unable to get away. What have you found?”
“I’m feeding you coordinates, ma’am. The robot is in the Yanni Two sector of space. I haven’t completed all the calculations yet, but I’m certain that the robot is going to stay in this sector. If it takes out another Lane—which I believe it will—the Lane will be in this sector.”
The general nodded. “Our experts have reached the same conclusion, Major. Thank you. Now—”
“They have, ma’am?” Darlene slammed her hands on the table. “Begging the general’s pardon, but what the hell are you doing about it? I’m on board a cruise ship in this sector. General. They’ve just announced that we’re going to be making the Jump in little over an hour! Why hasn’t the captain been informed of the danger? You need to warn every ship in this sector that on no account should they enter a space Lane.”
“We have done that, Major.” The general’s voice was cold. “All military ships and spaceplanes have been advised to refrain from using the Lanes until they receive word that it is once more safe. All private ships, freighters, planes, transports have received the same advisory.”
“Advisory! You advised them not to use the Lanes! Excuse me, General, ma’am, but you apparently don’t realize the extreme danger.”
The General was calm. “Major Mohini, do you have any idea of the thousands of vessels of every sort currently plying the Lanes in that sector of space? Privately owned vessels are not under our command. The Admiralty can issue advisories. The Admiralty can make recommendations. If the captains of these vessels choose to ignore these advisories and recommendations, that is their prerogative. This is a free society. What would you have us do—send out gunboats and threaten to shoot down every ship that doesn’t comply?”
“Did you tell people the reason, General? Surely if everyone understood the danger—”
The general’s jaw tightened, one corner of her mouth twitched. “What are we to tell them. Major? That an antique robot, two thousand years old, is going around taking out hyperspace Lanes? How many of them do you think would believe us?”
“Oh, now I understand,” Darlene said bitterly. “How stupid of me. The robot’s classified.”
“And it remains classified, Major. Remember that. I suggest that you return to your work and help us catch this robot before it takes out another Lane. Contact us if you have anything further to report.”
The transmission ended.
“Bitch,” said Darlene.
Well, it was not up to her. Somehow she’d have to convince the captain of this ship that he shouldn’t make the Jump. She had to think of a plausible reason.
Much as she hated to admit it, old Iron Guts was right. What captain in his right mind would deliberately disrupt the vacation plans of two thousand passengers? He would incur not only the wrath of the passengers but that of the cruise line, which would be forced to refund millions of credits for ruined vacations. And she couldn’t be certain that this Lane was the Lane the robot was going to take out next.
Yet, if the ship jumped into a Lane and the robot did take that Lane out ...
Darlene shivered. There had been hyperspace accidents before. No one ever survived. She remembered reading about a ship once that had been pulled in two. Half of it came out of one end of the Lane, half came out of the other. And with each half, the bodies of the dead ...
She started for the door again, recalling, as she opened it, that there was always the possibility the assassin was out there waiting for her.
Darlene smiled grimly. That would be the easy way to go.
Picking up a nail file—a gift from Raoul—Darlene walked out the automatic sliding door. Before she left, she slid the nail file under the door. If the door was opened in her absence, the nail file would move along with it. An old trick, but it worked. She performed it routinely, automatically, didn’t even give it much thought.
As she walked down the corridor, she noted—because once, years ago, she’d been trained to note such things— that the door to the stateroom six down from hers was slightly ajar. Inside a middle-aged man with graying hair was seated in front of his own vidphone, talking to a little boy of about seven, whose grinning freckled face filled the screen.
Darlene looked at the little boy, at the man. If she couldn’t find a way to stop the captain from making the Jump, this child might never see his father again.
Resolve hardening, Darlene increased her pace, hurried to the bridge.
Chapter 34
It’s all in a day’s work.
Anonymous
The gray-haired man in the room six down from Darlene told the little boy on the screen, “Wait just a minute, will you, son?” He stood up and walked to the door. He watched Darlene stop in front of the lift.
She tapped her foot nervously and irritably on the deck, hit the lift button several times in an effort to hurry it along. When the lift finally arrived, she darted into it. The doors shut.
The man waited a moment longer, just to make certain she hadn’t forgotten something or decided for some other reason to come back.
Leaving his door ajar, he walked back to the vid-phone. “Uh, I gotta go now, Jason. Sorry I can’t be there for your big game, but you know how it is. Daddy’s work.”
“Sure, Dad, I understand,” came the cheerful response from a freckle-smattered face. “My new glove’ll bring me luck. Thanks a lot, Dad. This was the best birthday present ever.”
The man smiled. “You play your best, okay, and remember: Winning’s not everything. It’s the game that counts. Give your mom my love when she gets home. Tell her I’ll call her tonight.”
The boy’s picture flashed off the screen. The man spent a moment looking at it fondly. Then he picked up a small metal case, tucked it in his pocket, and walked out into the corridor.
He had to wait a few minutes while a couple, clad in wet swimsuits, who had obviously been drinking more than pool water, went giggling and tottering down the hall to their room. The man lounged near an EMERGENCY EVACUATION PROCEDURE sign, pretending to be reading it carefully. When the corridor was clear, he proceeded to Darlene’s room.
He had to figure he didn’t have much time. He didn’t know why she’d left, she might be back any second.
He didn’t need much time.
The door lock was simple. He took out the electronic pass key, which he had purchased for a hefty price from one of the housekeeping staff. He hoped that the key would work. You could never trust Adonians.
The pass key was genuine; the door slid open.
Once inside, he went immediately to the window. Made of steelglass, the window measured about one meter vertically, a half meter horizontally. The advertising brochure stated that the windows in each individual cabin “provided the dazzled traveler with an unparalleled view of the magnificence of space.”
The man pulled out his case, took from it a tiny metal device that he could have balanced on the tip of his index finger. The device consisted of two small plates. Inside was a minuscule power cell. Holding the device between his two forefingers, he countertwisted the plates. Feeling the slight vibration in his finger, he knew that the device was activated. He placed the device onto
the lower left corner of the window.
This done, he left Darlene’s room, returned to his own room, but did not enter. He continued on past his room, walked through the blast doors and into another corridor, kept on going.
He wanted at least one set of blast doors—preferably two—between him and Darlene Rowan.
Chapter 35
And then the Windows failed—and then I could not see to see.
Emily Dickinson, “I heard a Fly buzz—when I died”
As it turned out, Darlene never spoke to the captain.
It was now about one hour to Jump. All passengers were being herded back to their cabins, where they were ordered to lie down in their beds and strap themselves in. Those who felt the need could take “Jump sedation”—a mild sedative. Specially built sensor devices in the beds indicated which passengers were obeying orders and which were not. Crew members were going from cabin to cabin checking to make certain that everyone was tucked in, strapped down, and comfortable.
They found Darlene striding purposefully through the corridors on the upper levels of the ship, heading for the bridge.
She was accosted by two stewards—a man and woman.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but the Jump sequence is scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes. Regulations state that you must be in your cabin, lying in your bed, with your webbing strapped securely—”
“I must speak to the captain,” Darlene said, trying to keep her voice calm, level. “It’s urgent.”
“I’m sorry, Ms.—?”
“Rowan. Darlene Rowan.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Rowan.” The female steward smiled. “But that is quite impossible. No one is allowed on the bridge prior to making the Jump. Regulations.”
“Hang regulations!” Darlene snapped. “I have to speak to the captain. He’s got to stop the Jump. You must believe me. I have information—”
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