Norby The Mixed-Up Robot

by Isaac Asimov

  "Storage barrel!" cried Norby.

  And I will thank you to leave.

  "Do you have the coordinates, Norby?"

  "Yes, but I won't use them. Not if they come from her. Not-"

  "Norby, use them, or I will take you apart with my bare hands and mix you up so that you never get unmixed!"

  The mother dragon appeared in the doorway of the castle, holding the baby in her arms. She made shooing gestures with her wings.

  Away! Away! You crude monster!

  "Come on, Norby!"

  "All right, I'm trying. But I think you are a crude monster to make such vicious threats against me when it was only half an hour ago you were saying you loved me."

  "I do love you, but that's beside the point. Get going!"

  "Give me a chance. If you start shouting and hurrying, I'll just get mixed up."

  "Must I tell you that you're always mixed up?"

  "All right. I have the coordinates, and I know Earth's coordinates, and I'll concentrate on your brother. And now… one…two-I hope it works-three…"

  They were skimming over Manhattan Island, and Central Park was a patch of green far below.

  Jeff held Norby firmly under his arm and shouted, "You're too high up, Norby. Farther down and not too fast."

  "You've got your hand over two of my eyes. All I can see are clouds and blue sky. Okay, that's better. Down we go!"

  "There's a crowd in the park," Jeff said, "and they're surrounding the Central Park Precinct house. Get down so we can see what's happening."

  "What if we get within blaster range?" Norby asked.

  "Try not to."

  "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who's flying."

  "Come on, Norby. Lower!"

  The crowd was milling about as if it didn't know its own mind. They had spilled over into the traverse, along which there was no traffic.

  A group of Ing's men were outside the precinct house, blasters ready. Their leader was crying out, "Disperse, you rebels, disperse, or we'll fill the park with your dead bodies."

  "Do you suppose he'll really do that?" Norby asked. "I don't know," Jeff said. "If Ing wins the day with too much bloodshed, he'll create hatred for himself, and he must know that, so I think he'd like to take over painlessly. Still, if his men get desperate-"

  "Well, they're liable to, Jeff, because there's your brother and that woman policeman friend of his, and they've got personal shields on."

  They could hear Fargo's voice shouting, "Forward, citizens, save our beloved island from Ing's Ignominies. Follow me!"

  They didn't follow. They remained irresolute. One man shouted, "It's easy for you to say, 'Follow me'; you've got a personal shield. We don't."

  "All right, then," shouted Fargo. "Watch us, and then join in. Come on, Albany. Get their blasters!"

  The leading Ingman shouted, "Take them alive. Ing will pay a heavy reward for those two!"

  They spread out. Fargo charged in, blocking an arm that was bringing down a blaster butt-first, and then landed a heavy blow in his assailant's solar plexus. The Ingman doubled up and lost interest in the fight for a while.

  Albany Jones circled another Ingman, making little "come on" gestures with her hands. He charged, and she turned and bent, blocking the charge with her hip, seizing his wrist, and tumbling him over into another henchman. Both Ingmen went sprawling.

  Norby cheered loudly. "That's it," he shouted. "Knock them all out."

  "There are too many of them," said Jeff. "Fargo and Albany will be smothered after a while if the crowd doesn't help them. Norby, take me over the park. Maybe the bird-watchers are still around. "

  "What good will they do?"

  "I want their leader, Miss Higgins. She struck me as a stalwart woman without fear, and that's the combination we want. Come on, Norby. If we can't find her, we'll have to join Fargo ourselves, and we won't be enough, either."

  They were flying over Central Park in zigzags, looking for the small group with a tweed-clad woman in the lead. "What's one crazy woman going to do, Jeff?"

  "I'm not sure, but I have a feeling she can help. And she's not crazy. She's enthusiastic."

  "Is that they?"

  "Maybe. Get down lower, and let's land on the other side of those trees. I don't want to panic them."

  Jeff and Norby moved cautiously through the trees. "That's the woman," said Jeff. "Miss Higgins! Miss Higgins!"

  Miss Higgins stopped and looked about. "Yes, what is it? Has anyone seen the grackle?"

  "It's I, Miss Higgins."

  Miss Higgins stared at Jeff for a moment. "Oh, yes," she said. "It's the young man and his little brother. We saw you at dawn, and here you are wanting to join our afternoon expedition. How enthusiastic of you."

  "Not quite, Miss Higgins," said Jeff. "It's Ing and his Ingrates. They are trying to take over the park."

  "Our park? Is that the noise we've been hearing? It scared the birds and just about ruined the afternoon watching."

  "That's the noise, I'm afraid."

  "Well, how dare they?"

  "Perhaps you can stop them, Miss Higgins. There's a crowd of angry patriots, but they need a leader."

  "Where are they?" cried Miss Higgins, waving her umbrella. "Lead me to them. Bird-watchers, wait here, and make note of any cardinals and blue jays you might see. Remember that cardinals are red and blue jays are blue!"

  "We're in a hurry, Miss Higgins," said Jeff. "Would you just hold my hand?"

  Miss Higgins blushed. "I suppose it would be all right. You're quite young."

  Jeff seized it, pulled her closer, put his arm about her waist, and said, " All right, Norby, full power upward. You're carrying two."

  Miss Higgins let out a muffled scream. "Really, young man." And then she just gasped as she rose into the air.

  "Back to the precinct," shouted Jeff. "There's still fighting going on."

  "It's a beautiful view," said Miss Higgins. "This is really the way to do bird-watching. We can follow them as they fly."

  Jeff and Albany were hemmed in, and the Ingmen were very wary in their approach, but it seemed just a matter of time. A few of the Ingmen faced the crowd, holding them off with blasters.

  "Get down, Norby," said Jeff. "And you, Miss Higgins, lead the crowd against those Ingmen."

  "Indeed I will," said Miss Higgins. "Barbarians!"

  "We're coming, Fargo," shouted Jeff.

  They landed. Miss Higgins broke away quickly, and Norby rolled toward the nearest Ingman who promptly fell over him. One of Norby's arms shot outward and seized the Ingman's blaster. He flipped it to Jeff, who seized it.

  Meanwhile Miss Higgins marched up to the crowd, brandishing her umbrella and shouting in a surprisingly loud voice, "Come on, you cowards. Are you going to stand there and let those villains seize your park? Central Park was made for birdwatchers and for good people, and not for villains. Save your park if you have an ounce of manhood and womanhood in you! Are you going to let me do it all alone? I'm one weak, nearly middle-aged woman, and here I go. Who'll follow me? Onward, Higgins's soldiers, marching for the right!"

  She charged forward, umbrella high, and Norby suddenly shouted. "Hurrah for Miss Higgins!"

  The crowd took it up, and soon there was a confused roar "Hurrah for Miss Higgins! Hurrah for Miss Higgins!"

  The mass of people moved forward, and the Ingmen instantly turned and made for the relative safety of the precinct house itself. The crowd, wild with fury, followed.

  Jeff held back Norby and kept him from following. "No, no. Things are all right without us now. What we've got to do is get to Space Command. Can you do that if I give you the correct space coordinates?"

  "Sure. Right through hyperspace."

  "Do you have the energy?"

  "You bet. I filled up on hyperspatial charge when we came through it from dragon-land."

  "Good. And I must say that going through hyperspace is very pleasant. I didn't feel a thing. It was like blinking, or like a hiccup allov
er your insides."

  "That's because I have a built-in hyperspatial shield," said Norby. "Didn't I tell you old Mac was a genius? I guess that's why I don't need a transmit. I am a transmit myself, and if you hold me tight, you come with me."

  "How did you know I'd come with you?"

  "I just guessed you would."

  "What would have happened if you had guessed wrong?"

  "It would have been pretty horrible for you, Jeff, but you know I'm never wrong."

  "I know no such thing."

  "Well, there's no use talking to you when you're that unreasonable. Give me the coordinates of Space Command. Okay, here we go!"

  8. Showdown

  "Ouch!" said Jeff. This time he had landed on one side, still holding Norby. His right elbow hurt like mad.

  "Where are we?" whispered Norby, his eyes peering from between the barrel and the hat. "Have I gotten us to the right place?"

  "You have," said Jeff, sitting up with a groan.

  "Never-fail Norby, they call me."

  Jeff looked about and found himself in the midst of the highest officers in the Space Command, including Admiral Yobo, who looked as if he had been glaring and swearing for some time.

  In back of Jeff was the open door of Space Command's transit station.

  "It's working!" one of the officers cried, rushing past Jeff into the transmit.

  "This boy must have come by transmit and rolled out just now," said another. "Didn't anyone see him? With this kind of security, we could expect Ing himself to appear among us."

  "I saw him arrive," said Yobo in his rolling bass voice. "I think you 'II find that however Cadet Wells arrived, the transmit is again out of order."

  Again out of order, not still. The Admiral was careful not to describe exactly what he had seen or hint that arrival had not been by transmit. A good man, thought Jeff. Quick-thinking and on the side of all decent cadets.

  "May I speak to you alone, Admiral?" Jeff asked.

  Yobo stroked his chin thoughtfully, then nodded at the others-an offhand gesture that had the clear force of a command. The officers left.

  "My robot-" Jeff began.

  "You bought that robot with the money I gave you? That was all you could get?" said the admiral.

  Norby stirred, but Jeff punched the barrel from behind to keep him quiet. "It is a very good robot," Jeff said, "with a number of good and also exasperating abilities. And he will teach me Martian Swahili in no time. He is also a clever engineer and can fix the transmit. Ing and his Ingrates have control of Manhattan and-"

  "We know about that, Cadet Wells. He's issuing orders for total surrender and insists on being called 'Emperor.' My own feeling is that the transmit isn't broken, but is under control from the other end." Yobo looked calmly at Jeff. Then he said, " And what do you say about that?"

  "Aren't you going to do anything?" Jeff asked.

  "I'm certainly not going to surrender," Yobo said, "but I have to be careful. All of Manhattan is hostage to Ing, and other places on Earth may fall to him, too, unless-"

  "Unless what, sir?"

  "Unless your brother can do something. He has been my close adviser in all this. He suspected that Ing would strike at Manhattan first, and he has taken measures."

  "What measures?"

  "We'll have to see," said Yobo calmly. "Meanwhile, what is it you want to do? Anything besides fixing the unfixable transmit?"

  "I guess my robot can't really fix the transmit if Ing's blocked it. May I consult Norby-that's my robot's name-sir?"

  "Go ahead, Cadet."

  Jeff bent over Norby's hat and asked in a whisper, "What now?"

  Norby's answer was so soft that Jeff couldn't hear, so he bent closer until his nose touched Norby's hat. His nose tingled and he stood up. "Ow!"

  Norby's hand reached over to Jeff's leg and grabbed it hard.

  I don't want the admiral to hear! I think I could gimmick a small ship (if he'll give us one) and hyperjump us to Earth.

  Jeff gulped. "Norby?" he said faintly, feeling the tingle through his leg this time.

  I think the dragon made you responsive to telepathy if I touch you. Get me a ship!

  "Cadet Wells!" said Yobo. "Are you sane?"

  "Most of the time, sir. And Norby is, too, some of the time. What we want is a small ship, just large enough to hold me and Norby."

  "Why?"

  "The idea is to move it past any security network Ing may have, and then fit it into his headquarters. I've been there, and I recognized it. He had it all draped in flags, but I could tell it was the main waiting room of the Old Grand Central Station. It had a museum smell about it, and I learned every inch of it when I used to visit it as a youngster. I know the transmit coordinates of the station, or at least Norby does because he memorizes transmit coordinates whenever he's been anywhere…"

  "Cadet, you mean well," said Yobo, "but without a transmit it will take days to get to Earth, and with a transmit you wouldn't need a ship. You don't need a ship to make a trip to Earth. I've got the fleet itself ready to do it, but Ing threatens to blow up Manhattan if I as much as move a ship."

  "That's just bluff."

  "You're sure of that? You'd risk Earth's most renowned relic of ancient days, its most famous center of population, on your certainty?"

  "The fleet would be noticed if it made a move, but one ship-one small ship-".

  "Nonsense! It would be noticed, too. You should understand the efficiency of space detection, Cadet. You've been in the academy long enough for that."

  "Please, Admiral," said Jeff. "Trust me. My robot is very good with machinery, and perhaps he can speed up one of your small ships and arrange to have it deflect the spy beams and move it right into the Grand Central waiting room."

  "You're suggesting an impossibility," said Yobo, "unless…" He stared hard at Norby. Then he added, "Unless this-uh-barrel you clutch so tightly is by way of being a sorcerer. What about my private cruiser? Would that be small enough?"

  "How small is it?"

  "Small enough to hold just me, although you and your robot-barrel can squeeze in if you don't mind sleeping on the floor."

  "Why would we have to sleep on the floor, sir?"

  "Because you can "t have my private cruiser without me on it, and I sleep in the one bed. That's the privilege of rank, Cadet."

  "Take you, sir?" Jeff leaned over Norby's hat and whispered, "Can you move the admiral along with the ship and us?"

  Norby squeaked, "No! Look at the size of him!"

  Yobo heard that and smiled. "I'm not exactly stunted, but I am not going to sit here helpless. I've had enough of this whole thing. If you can get a ship into Grand Central Station, Cadet, I want to be with it. If anything happens to me, there are several good men-in their own estimation, if in no one else's-any one of whom could succeed me at once."

  Jeff said promptly, "Norby, you can do it. Don't let me hear any negatives. Admiral, you can come, but let me be in temporary command."

  "Cadet Wells," said Yobo with a grim smile, "you are more like your brother than I would have imagined. But before we make a move, you're going to tell me exactly how you expect to move the ship to Earth. Any ordinary movement and we'll be lost-and you know it."

  Jeff thought awhile. "Admiral," he said, "will you give me your word that what I am about to say will be held in strictest confidence?"

  "That's an impertinent request," Yobo said. "Any information you have that is of importance to system security should be delivered at once and without restrictions. What do you mean 'strictest confidence?"

  Jeff said miserably, "Well, sir, Norby can move us through hyperspace without a transmit."

  "Indeed? I rather suspected you had something like that in mind, since nothing else would accomplish what you plan to do. And how does Norby bring about this impossibility?"

  "I don't know. And he doesn't, either."

  "After this is over, shouldn't he be taken apart so that we can find out the secret of hyperspatial travel
?"

  Norby squawked. "Jeff, have nothing to do with this oversize monster. He's as bad as that dragon."

  "What dragon?" asked Yobo.

  "Just a mythical monster, sir. But that's why I want the information held confidential. If it's found out, all the scientists would want to take him apart, and they still might not find out, and then we might not be able to put him together again, and we would end up with nothing."

  "We would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," whispered Norby angrily. "Tell him that, Jeff. Only make it a more intelligent bird. "

  Jeff nudged Norby into silence. "As it is, Admiral, Norby would make an important secret weapon for the Federation. He has all sorts of powers that he can handle with perfect ease-almost."

  "Very well, but why aren't we taking a squadron of armed men and a battle cruiser, then?"

  "Well, Admiral, Norby's powers are, for the moment, somewhat limited."

  The admiral laughed. "You mean he's a small robot and can only handle small things."

  "You are not a small thing, you overgrown human, you!" shouted Norby.

  The admiral laughed again. "I suppose I'm not. But let's go ahead, you undergrown barrel, you. I'll have my personal cruiser made ready."

  An hour later they were on the cruiser, and Norby had plugged himself into the ship's engine. "I don't promise I can make this work," he grumbled. "Getting an entire ship with me through hyperspace is no small task."

  "You can do it, Norby," Jeff said.

  "Me? An undergrown barrel?"

  "Yes, you. An ancient, intelligent, very brave, and powerful robot," said Jeff. " And if you don't, I will take out your works and fill your barrel with peanut butter-rancid peanut butter, so that the dragon-mother won't notice the nail smell anymore."

  The jump through hyperspace was not quite perfect.

  "We're not inside Grand Central," said Jeff.

  "Well, there it is, right ahead," Norby said indignantly. "You have to allow for a little slippage. Ask any engineer."

  "This will do fine," said the admiral. "We just require a tiny normal space correction."

  Two seconds later, the admiral's personal cruiser was hovering on an antigrav beam in the air above Ing's throne. The ship was draped in flags, and a window behind it was smashed.