by Brian Daley
They entered an elevator with the major and a few of his men and were whisked upward in a high-speed ride. When the elevator opened and they trailed the major out, they found themselves standing beneath the stars, which shone so brightly and were packed so tightly overhead that they seemed more like a mist of light.
Then Han realized they were on top of Stars End, which was covered with a dome of transparisteeL There was an apron of bright flooring by the elevators. Beyond that began a small glen, complete with mini-ature streamlet, and flowers and vegetation from many worlds, landscaped down to the last bud and leaf. He could hear the sounds of birds and small animals, the hum of pollinating insects, all of which were confined tO the roof garden, he assumed, by partition fields. The glen was cleverly lit by miniature sun-globes of vari-ous colors.
Footsteps to their right made them turn. A man came around the curve of the towers service core, a tall, handsome patriarch of a man. He wore superbly cut uppermost-execs attire-a cutaway coat, formal vest, pleated shirt and meticulously creased trousers, set off by a jaunty red cravat. His smile was hearty and con-vincing, his hair white and full, his hands clean and soft, his nails manicured and lacquered. Han instantly wanted to bop him in the skull and dump him down the elevator shaft.
The mans voice was sure and melodious. Wel-come to Stars End, Madam Atuarre. I am Hitken, Vice-President Hitken, of the Corporate Sector Au-thority. Alas, you come unheralded, or Id have greeted you with greater pomp.
Atuarre feigued distress. Oh, honorable sir, what shall I say? We were contacted by the Guild and asked to serve as a replacement act, at the last moment, as it were. But I was told the Secretary in charge of sched-uling, Hokkor Long, would make all arrangements.
Viceprex Hitken smiled, a charming drawing back of red lips from chalk-white teeth. Han thought how useful that smile and smooth voice must be in Author-ity board sessions. Totally unimportant, the Vice-prex announced. Your appearance is thus an unex-pected pleasure.
Why, how gracious of you! Never fear, my kind Vicprex; well distract you from the problems and pressures of your high office! To herself, though, Atuarre swore Trianii vengeance If youve hurt my mate, 1 vow Ill see your living heart in my hand!
Hah observed that Hirken wore, at his belt, a small, fiat instrument, a master-control unit. He assumed that the man liked to keep close watch on everything in Stars End; the unit gave him total control of his do-main.
I have gathered some of the most prestigious en-tertainers in this part of our galaxy, Atuarre con-tinued. Pakka here is a premier acrobat, and I myself, in addition to being mistress of ceremonies, perform the traditional music and ritual dance of my people. And here stands our handsome Master Marksman, peerless expert with firearms, to amaze you, worship-ful Viceprex, with his trick shooting.
There was a whistling laugh and a jeering Trick shooting of what? Of his mouth, as appears likely? The speaker appeared behind Viceprex Hitken. He was a reptilian creature, slender and quick of move-ment. Viceprex Hirken chided the humanoid gently. There, there, Uul; these good folks have come a long way to relieve our tedium. He turned to Atuarre. Uul-Rha-Shan is my personal bodyguard, and some-thing of an adept with weapons him.qelf. Perhaps a con-test of some sort could be arranged later. Uul has such a droll sense of humor, dont you agree?
Han was eyeing the reptile, whose bright green scales were marked with diamond patterns of red and white, and whose big black, emotioniess eyes were studying Han. Uul-Rha-Shans jaw hnng open a bit, exposing fangs and a restless pink tongue. Strapped to his right forearm was a pistol, a disrupter, Hah thought, in a spfing-loaded or power-driven holster of some kind.
Uul-Rha-Shan had taken up a position to Hirkens fight. Han recalled having heard the bodyguards name before. The galaxy was filled with species, all boasting their exceptional killers. Nonetheless, some individuals rose to a kind of prominence. One of those, an assas-sin and gunman who, it was said, would go anywhere and slay anyone for the fight price, was Uul-Rha-Shan.
Hirkeffs manner had shifted to businesslike de-meanor. Now, that is the droid I requested, I take it? He inspected Bollux unsmilingly, with a look that put cold danger in the air. I was most specific with the Guild; I told Hokkor Long precisely what sort of droid I desired and stressed that they were to send nothing else. Has Long acquainted you with my de-sires?
Atuarre swallowed, trying not to let her effusive manner slip. Of a certainty, Viceprex, he did.
Hirken threw one more skeptical look at Bollux. Very well. Follow me. He set off, back the way he had come, Uul-Rha-Shan at his heels. The travel-ers and their escort came behind. They left the garden area, coming to an amphitheater, an open expanse surrounded by banks of comfortable seats, separated by partitions of transparisteel.
Automated fighting is combat at its purest, dont you agree? Hirken said chattily. No living creature, no matter how savage, is free of the taint of self-preservation. But automata, ahl They are without re-gard for themselves, existing only to follow orders and destroy. My own combat-automaton is a Mark-X Executioner; there arent many of them around. Has your gladiator droid ever fought one?
Hans nerves were screaming; he was trying to fig-ure out whom to jump for a weapon if, as he feared, Atuarre bobbled her reply. Any show of hesitation or ignorance now would surely tip their hand to Hirken and his men.
But she improvised smoothly. No, Viceprex, not the Mark X.
Han was struggling with the jarring revelation. Gladiator droid? So that was what Hirken assumed Bollux was. Han had known, naturally, that matching droids and other automata in combat was a fad among the wealthy and jaded, but it hadnt occurred to him that Hirken would be among those. He put his brain into overdrive, looking for a way out.
As they walked, a woman joined them, coming from what was evidently a private lift tube. She was short, extremely fat, and trying to hide it with ex-pensive, well-tailored robes. Han thought she looked as if somebody had draped a drogue parachute over an escape pod.
She took Hirkens hand. The Vieeprex endured
the gesture with ill humor. She fluttered a fat, beauti-
fully maintained hand and chortled, Oh, darling, do
we have company.9
Hirken turned upon the woman a stare that, Han calculated, was enough to dissolve covalent bonding. The chubby birdbrain ignored it. The Viceprex gritted his teeth. No, dearest. These people have brought a new competitor for my Mark X. Madame Atuarre and Company, I present my lovely bride, Neera. By the way, Madam Atuarre, what did you say your droids designation is.9 Han jumped in. Hes one of a kind, um, Viceprex. We designed him ourselves and call him Annihilator.
He turned to Bollux.
Bollux looked from Hah to Hitken, then bowed. Annihilator, at your service. To destroy is to serve, exalted sir.
But our troupe has other acts to offer, Atuarre was quick to tell Hirkens wife. Tumbling, dancing, trick shooting, and more.
0oh, dearest! the obese woman exclaimed, clap-ping her hands, sliding up against her husband. Lets see that first! I grow so tired of watching that old Mark X demolish other machinery. How boring and un-couth and crude, reallyI And live performers would be such a relief from those dreadful holotapes and re-corded music. And we have company here so seldom. She made puckering noises which, Han took it, were intended to be kisses to her husband. Hah thought they sounded more like the attack of some inverte-brate.
He saw a chance to solve two problems at once
how to get Bollux out of the match and how to get a
look around Stars End on his own. Uh, honored
Viceprex, Im also gaffer for the troupe. I have to tell
you, our gladiator droid, Annihilator there, was dam-
aged in his last match. His auxiliary management
circuitry needs to be checked. If I could use your
shop, itd only take a few minutes. You and your wife
could enjoy the other performances in the meantime,
Hirken looked up at the stars through the
dofile and sighed, while his wife giggled and seconded the proposal. Very well. But make these repairs quickly, Marksman. Im not much taken with acrobats or dane-ing.
Sure, right.
The Viceprex summoned a tech supervisor who had been checking the amphitheaters systems and ex-plained to the man what was needed. Then he offered his arm, unwillingly, to his wife. They went to find seats in the amphitheater, with the Espo major and his men ranging themselves around in a loose guard for-marion. Uul-Rha-Shan, with a last, menacing look at Hun, followed along, again positioning himself near Hirkens right.
Since Pakkas acrobatics and Atuarres dancing would pose no danger to the audience, Hirken hit a control on his belt unit, and the transparisteel slabs forming the arenas walls slid away into floor slots. The Viceprex and his wife settled into luxurious conform-loungers. Pakka readied his props.
Han turned to the supervisor tech whod been placed at his disposal. Wait for me by the elevator;
Ill get the circuit box out, be with you in a second.
The man left. Hun, loosening his cape and sliding it from his shoulders, turned to Bollux. Okay, open up just enough for me to get Max.
The plastron opened partway. Hun leaned close, shielded by the plastron halves. As he freed the computer-probe, he warned, Not a sound, Max. Youre supposed to be a combat-control component, so no funny stuff. Youre deaf and dumb as of now. As a signal that he understood, Blue Maxs photo-receptor went dim. Good boy, Maxde.
Han straightened, slinging the computers shoulder strap over his arm. As Bollux closed his chest up, Hun handed his cape and gunbelt over and patted the droids freshly painted head. Hold these for me and stay loose, Bollux. This shouldnt take long.
As Hun joined the tech supervisor at the elevator, Pakka was just beginning a marvelous exhibition of tumbling and gymnastics. The cub was a competition-class acrobat and covered the amphitheater floor in a series of flips, twists, and cartwheels, somersaulting through a hoop he held and, perching on the balance-ball, moving himself around the arena with both hands and feet. Then Atuarre came in to act as thrower as Pakka became a flyer.
Hirkens wife thought it all charming, oohing at the cubs prowess. Subordinate Authority execs began to show up and take seats, a handful of the privileged who had been invited to see the performance. They muttered approval of Pakkas agility, but stifled it when they saw their bosss deadly look of discontent.
Hitken thumbed his belt unit. A voice answered instantly. Have the Mark X readied at once. He ignored the crisp acknowledgment from the duty tech, eyed the waiting Bollux, and turned his attention back to the acrobatics. Authority Vieeprex Hitken could be very, very patient when he wished, but wasnt in the mood now.
RIDING down in the elevator, Hun concentrated furiously on his predicament.
Hed led the others into this jam thinking that, if nothing else, hed at least get an idea of what he was up against. At worst, hed thought, theyd be told they werent welcome. But this was an unanticipated twist.
That Bollux was committed to a match against a killer robot of some sort shouldnt bother him, Hun reminded himself. Bollux was, after all, only a droid. It wasnt as if a living entity would die. Hall had to keep repeating that because he was having a hard time selling it to himself. Anyway, he had no intention of giving Viceprex Hirken the enjoyment of seeing the superannuated droid taken apart.
Times like this, he wished he were the slow, careful type. But his style was the product of Hun himself, defying consequences, jumping in with both feet, heed-less of what he might land in. His plan, as revised in the elevator, was to do all the scouting he could. If nothing more could be accomplished, he and the others would have to wing it, withdraw from the perform-ance and, it was to be hoped, Stars End, on the plea that Bollux was irreparable.
He watched floor numbers flash and kept himself from asking questions of the tech supervisor beside him. Any outsider, particularly an entertainer, would be scrupulously uncurious about an Authority instal-lation. For Hah to be otherwise would be a matter causing instant suspicion.
A few other passengers entered and left the car. Only one was an exec; all the rest were Espos and techs. Han looked them over for keys, restraint-binders, or anything else that might indicate detention-block guard duties, but saw nothing Again he noticed that the tower seemed ve lightly manned, contrary to what hed expect if there really was a prison here.
He followed the tech supervisor out of the elevator, alighting at the general maintenance section, nearly back at ground level. Only a few techs were there, moving among gleaming machinery and dangling hoist-ing gear. Disassembled droids, robo-haulers, and other light equipment, as well as commo and computer ap-paratus, were to be seen ever/where.
He resettied Maxs carrying strap at his shoulder.
Do you guys have a circuit scanner?
The tech led him to a side room with rows of booths, all of them vacant. Han set Max on a podium in one of them and lowered a scanner hood, hoping the tech would go off and take care of his normal duties. But the man remained there, and so Hah found himself stating into the computer-probes labyrinthine interior.
The tech, watching over his shoulder, commented, Hey, that looks like a lot more than just an auxiliary component.
Its something I worked up, pretty sophisticated, Han said. By the way, the Viceprex said when Im done here I could take it up to your central com-puter section to recalibrate it. Thats one level down, right?
The supervisor was frowning now, trying for a bet-ter look at Blue Maxs guts. No, computers are two levels up. But they wont let you in unless Hitken veri-fies it. Youre not cleared, and you cant go into a re-stricted area if youre unbadged. He leaned closer to the scanner. Listen, that really looks like some kind of computer module to me.
Han chuckled casually. Here, look for yourself. He stepped aside. The tech supervisor moved closer to the scanner, reaching down to work its focus con-trols. Then his own focus went completely dark.
Han, rubbing the edge of his hand, stood over the unconscious tech and looked around for a place to stow him. He had noticed a supply closet at the end of the scanner room. Han fastened the mans hands be-hind him with his own belt, gagged him with a dust cover off a scanner, and lugged the limp form into the closet. He paused to take the mans security badge, then dosed the door.
He went back to the little computer-probe. All right, Max; perk up.
Blue Maxs photoreceptor lit up. Hah removed his own sash and stripped the gaudy homemade medals and braid off his outfit. He yanked the epaulets and piping away, too, and what remained was a black body suit, a fair approximation of a techs uniform. He placed the supervisors security badge prominently on his chest, took Max up again, and set out. Of course, if anyone were to stop him or compare the miniature holoshot on his badge to his real face, hed be tubed. But he was counting on his own luck, a convincing briskness of stride, and an air of purpose.
He went up two levels without mishap. Three Espos lounging in the guard booth near the elevator bank waved him on, seeing he was badged. He fought the impulse to smile. Stars End was probably an unevent-ful tour of duty; no wonder the guards had gotten lax. After all, what could possibly happen here?
At the amphitheater, Pakkas amazing deftness hadnt even drawn an approving look from Vieeprex Hirken. The cub had been using a hoop while rolling a balance-ball with his feet, doing flips.
Enough of this, Hirken proclaimed, his well-tended hand flying up. Pakka stopped, glaring at the Viceprex. Isnt that incompetent Marksman back yet? The other execs, conferring among themselves, managed to reach a group decision that Han was still gone. Hirkens breath rasped.
He pointed to Atuarre. Very well, Madam, you may dance. But be brief, and if your sharpshooting gaffer isnt back soon, I may dispense with him alto-gether.
Pakka had removed his props from the arena floor. Now Atuarre handed him the small whistle-flute Hah had machined up for him. While the cub blew a few practice runs on it, Atuarre slipped on the finger-cymbals Hah
had fashioned for her and clinked them experimentally. The improvised instruments, even her anklet-chimes, all lacked the musical quality of Trianii authentics, she decided. But they would suffice, and might even convince the onlookers that they were see-ing the real thing.
Pakka began playing a traditional air. Atuarre moved out onto the arena floor, following the music with a sinuous ease no human performer could quite match. Her streamers blew behind her, many-colored fans flickering from arms and legs, forehead and throat, as her finger-cymbals sounded and her anklets rang, precisely as they should.
Some of the preoccupation left Hirkens face and the faces of the other onlookers. Trianni ritual dancing had often been touted as a primitive, uninhibited art, but the truth was that it was high artistry. Its forms were ancient, exacting, demanding all a dancers con-centration. It required perfectionism, and a deep love of the dance itself. In spite of themselves, Hirken, his subordinates, and his wife were drawn into Atuarres spinning, stalking, pouncing dance. And as she per-formed, she wondered how long she could hold her audience, and what would happen if she couldnt hold them long enough.
Han, having found a computer terminal in an unoc-cupied room, set Max down next to it. While Max ex-tended his adapter and entered the system, Hah took a cautious look in the hall and closed the door. He drew up a workstool by a readout screen. You in, kid?
Just about, Captain. The techniques Rekkon taught me work here, too. There? The screen lit up, flooded with symbols, diagrams, computer models, and col-umns of data.
Way to go, Max. Now spot up the holding pens, or cells, or detention levels or whatever.
Blue Max flashed layout after layout on the screen, while his search moved many times faster, skimming huge amounts of data; this was the sort of thing hed been built for. But at last he admitted, I cant, Cap-tain.
What dyou mean, cant? Theyre here, theyve
gotta be. Look again, you little moronl
Therere no cells, Max answered indignantly. If there were, Id have seen them. The only living ar-rangements in the whole base are the employees hous-ing, the Espo barracks, and the exec suites, all on the other side of the complex-and Hirkens apartments here in the tower.