by Douglas Hill
He moved silently out of the shaft. The broad expanse of the loading area was cluttered with piled containers of ossidin. Here and there work-robots stood, inactive for the night, and banks of machinery and equipment rested equally silent in their pools of shadow.
There were no Clusterfolk visible, yet Keill took no chances, making full use of cover as he ghosted across the area. The corridor beyond was also empty as he sped to the walkway. But once on its upward spiral, he halted, hardly breathing. A -sound from above - on the descending walkway, that twisted around the one he was on - so that he would be fully exposed to anyone coming down.
He sprang off the walkway on the next level, moving swiftly into the empty corridor. Pushing against the nearest doorway, he found it open, and peered through. Two rows of high, bulky tanks confronted him - the containers in which the basic nutrients that made up the Home's synthesized food were cultured.
Each tank's lip was higher than Keill's head, and they were packed close together, except for a wide passage down the centre of the chamber. Overhead, a system of narrow metal catwalks allowed supervisors to keep watch on the contents of the tanks.
Keill saw no one, though the chamber was well-lit. He heard nothing except the low gurglings and bubblings from the great tanks, and a background hum from the machinery that maintained conditions within each tank.
Silently he drifted forward along the central passage between the two rows of tanks, then halted. Faintly, from the far end of the chamber, he heard voices.
He moved further forward, crouching, listening. Two of the night supervisors, he judged, idly chatting at the end of one row of tanks. At any minute they might move towards - along the passage, or along one of the overhead cat-He retraced his steps to the door where he had entered, and tugged at it gently. It did not move. He pulled more £nnIy. It remained solidly closed.
Somehow, while he had been in the chamber, it had been locked.
There would surely be another door out of the chamber. But that would mean going past the workmen at the far end. Perhaps, he thought, he could bluff his way past them, tell them he had lost his way.
He turned back towards the passage - and froze.
A work-robot was rolling in ominous near-silence along the passage, its scanner eye fixed on him, its six long metal arms stretching out threateningly towards him.
Keill stood still, studying the robot. It was a different design from the others he had seen. Its body was narrower and far taller, nearly three metres.
And on the ends of the six tentacle arms were some different attachments, for use with the tanks — ladle-like scoops, flat paddle-like devices, but also two of the pincer-like grabs, resembling the claws of some weird crustacean.
It was almost upon him. And he knew there was no chance that it might just be going on its way harmlessly past him, in the course of its work. The eye was too firmly fixed on him. The arms were extending too obviously in his direction.
It was certainly being controlled. Which meant that someone, on a nearby monitor screen, was watching him through the scanner. And guiding those arms.
Abruptly he took a step towards the robot and leaped -straight upwards.
Catching the lip of the nearest tank, he swung lithely up on to its edge, and rose to his feet, gauging bis next leap to the edge of the catwalk above.
He had moved with all his uncanny speed. But the lip of the tank was narrow, sloping and slippery - and whoever was controlling the robot was also dangerously quick.
In the fractional instant while he found his footing for the next leap, one of the tentacle arms - bearing a pincer grab -swept up at him. It moved like some metallic serpent, with gaping jaws, and the jaws struck at Keill's throat.
He swayed aside, evading the grab. As he did so, the other pincer-bearing tentacle struck. He parried that lunge with a forearm block.
But the metal arm twisted back on itself, and the powerful pincers clamped on to his wrist.
Effortlessly it jerked him up, off the tank's lip, dangling him by his wrist, helplessly, over the edge of the tank.
Below him the pungent, viscous fluid bubbled and heaved. For a moment he thought he was to be dropped into the thick sludge, which would be unpleasant but hardly fatal.
Then the robot's other arms were slashing and striking at him, the second grab again seeking his throat. As he dangled painfully from one wrist, he fought - swinging and spinning aside from the attacks, blocking or chopping at the twisting, serpentine arms.
Until, without warning, the arm that gripped his wrist swung him viciously downwards - intending to smash his body against the edge of the tank, as if he were a flapping fish on a line, to break his back with the impact.
He arched the muscles of his back just in time. Not his body but the soles of his boots took the force of the slamming impact against the tank. Every cell in his body seemed to be jarred out of place, but he had suffered no harm - save for the grinding pain from the relentless grip on his arm.
Again the robot lifted him and swung him violently down. Again Keill tried to blunt the impact with his feet. But the robot had slightly shifted its position. Keill's feet only plunged knee-deep into the thick, sticky nutrient. And, savagely, the robot's pincer smashed his right forearm against the lip of the tank.
The blow was intended to shatter the arm, so that Keill could no longer use its support to save himself from being beaten murderously against the tank.
But the arm did not break.
For a frozen moment the robot was motionless - as if its controller could not grasp what had happened, or what had not
And Keill - despite the blazing, screaming pain from his bruised and torn right arm - did not miss his chance.
In that frozen instant, using his agonized wrist as a pivot, he flung his body backwards like a gymnast in a back roll over a horizontal bar. At the top of the backward curve, he straightened his legs, his body arrowing horizontally through the air.
Before the robot's controller could react, both boots smashed into the robot's scanner eye.
Shattered circuits spat sparks and smoke through the gaping hole in the plastiglass. The robot's controller, blinded now, threshed its arms wildly, furiously. But Keill had followed through the destruction of the eye by clamping his free hand on to the tentacle that gripped him. While it lashed and flailed, he rode it tenaciously - waiting his next chance.
It came soon. Each of the robot's arms sprouted out of a socket on the tall body that was guarded with a housing of plastic. Keill's eyes were fixed on that.
And when for a fractional second the arm he rode twisted and bent near to the body, he struck.
His boot flashed down with terrifying power, and a perfect aim. The heel drove irresistibly against the joint of arm and body.
And the metal arm sheared cleanly off. Keill dropped to the floor, rolling swiftly away, still clutching what was now a limp length of flexible metal.
The pincer-grip on his tormented wrist had opened, freeing him.
For a moment the blind robot still frantically struck and threshed around itself, twisting on its treads. But, when Keill easily evaded it, its arms dropped, its treads halted, and it was still.
Clearly its controller, lacking vision, had given up the attempt at murder.
Only then - crouched and wary, half-dazed with the pain in his right arm - did Keill hear the pounding feet in the passageway, the shouts of hurrying people.
Half the Qusterfolk seemed to have been aroused by the clamour, and to be crowding the corridors as the two pale and frightened workers took Keill to the Home's infirmary. He had rejected the idea of a stretcher and walked calmly through the throngs, paying them little attention, showing no exterior sign of the agony from his swollen, bleeding right arm.
The two workers, hurrying beside him, alternated between alarmed and puzzled apologies to Keill and explanations to the crowd. "Can't understand it," they were babbling. "Don't have many robots go rogue. An" what you did - never saw the like. W
ith a busted arm an" all." And to the crowd, "Robot went crazy.
Nearly killed him. Sure, saw it all. Happened so quick - smashed it, he did.
'Bare-handed'
And the crowd was still oohing and marvelling and staring avidly as Keill closed the infirmary door behind him.
He sat quiet and unmoving, while a sleepy medic fussed over his arm. Finally the medic stood back, shaking his head wonderingly.
'That's near miraculous," he said. "With these contusions and lacerations, and with what those supervisors are saying happened, you should have a severe compound fracture. You're very lucky."
"As you say," Keill nodded wearily. "Lucky."
"I've given you an injection," the medic went on, "that will reduce the pain and swelling, and I've put on a light syntha-skifl bandage. You should have full use of the arm in a day or two."
As the medic turned away, Keill flexed the fingers of his right hand. The pain was distant, smothered, and already the forearm had returned to normal size thanks to the injection. No, he thought fiercely, I have full use of the arm now. And he made a mental note to send his thanks once again to the Overseers, for the unbreakable alloy that he bore within his body.
He turned as the door of the infirmary slammed open. Joss, her lovely face pale with concern, burst in with Shalet striding close behind her. As Keill stood up, Joss moved close to him, her eyes anxious as they moved from his face to his bandaged arm.
"You might have been killed !" she said.
Keill smiled, lifting his bandaged arm. i wasn't Not even badly hurt."
Joss looked startled. "But everyone's saying that your arm was crushed !'
"Just cuts and bruises." He waggled his fingers. "The medic says it'll be fine in a day or two."
'Takes more'n a rogue robot to beat a legionary, eh?" Shalet chortled.
Joss was frowning slightly. "But what were you doing down there, anyway ?"
That was the question Keill had been dreading. But there vas no sign of strain in his voice or face as he replied. "Couldn't sleep, so I was wandering," he said easily. "Anything to get out of that cubicle - it's worse than the escape capsule."
Shalet's laughter boomed. "Often feel that way m'selfl What'd you do - forget which level y"were on ?"
Keill nodded, putting on an embarrassed look. i must have miscounted, or got confused somehow."
"Happens to strangers every time!" Shalet laughed. "Joss, you better take him back to his cubicle, so he don't get lost again I'
Joss smiled."He won't I'll see to that."
Later, as sunrise was pushing wan grey light through the window-slit, Keill lay on his narrow bunk being scolded by a worried Glr.
I fail to see the value of being nearly caught, and nearly killed, just for a glimpse of a mysterious metal container, she was saying.
'No value at all," Keill replied agreeably.
There was a pause, i am gladyou are unharmed, Glr added, in a gentler tone.
Keill grinned. "l am too."
And the arm will not affect you, regarding the "task" that Quern mentioned?
'No. It's not badly hurt—and I heal quickly."
Good, Glr said. The Overseers are extremely anxious to learn the nature of the weapon. Your "task" may expose some of Quern's secrets.
"I've already learned one thing," Keill said darkly. "Someone on the Cluster doesn't want me alive. That robot was controlled, no question of it. My guess would be by Villon - or Groll, if be can handle robots."
Whoever it was, Glr replied, he was no doubt acting on Quern's orders. So we cannot discount a sinister possibility. She paused for a moment, then went on sombrely: There may well be a second Deathwing agent on the Cluster.
CHAPTER SIX
Keill spent most of the next day resting in his cubicle, to speed the healing of his injury, and also to avoid more awed curiosity from the Clusterfolk, who would all have heard of the robot's attack. Joss visited him briefly at midday, bringing a meal that they shared - but she seemed slightly nervous, preoccupied with her own thoughts, and Keill commented on it.
She smiled wanly. "Sorry. There's a great deal to do. Everything seems to be coming to a head so quickly."
Interest sparked in Keill, but he kept his voice light. "You seem to have a lot of responsibility."
She nodded. "Quern relies on me to coordinate everything when he's not here. I seem to spend all my time at it."
"Don't the other Councillors help ?"
"when they can. But all of them have their Cluster jobs as well."
"And you don't ?"
"Not really. I've had a lot of jobs on the Cluster, but just before we broke with Veynaa I was mostly piloting the ultra-freighter. And of course it's not in use now."
'Nice job," Keill said, trying to sound casual. "What do the other Councillors do ?"
'They're all fairly specialized. Shalet supervises a clerical section, Bennen and Rint are technicians in the ventilation and cleaning works. Fillon's more special - he's probably the best computer person in the Home."
Keill's face was blank, but within he was grimly exultant. Every aspect of the Home's technology involved computers -including the robots.
'Maybe he ought to have a look at that robot," Keill said calmly. "To see what went wrong."
"That's been done," she said. "Maintenance took it apart this morning. But the damage you caused made it hard for them to spot any earlier malfunction."
He nodded, pretending indifference. "On the subject of jobs, what does my friend Groll do ? Just hit people ?"
'No," she smiled, "he's a manual worker in the loading bay. Why?"
'No reason." Not Groll, then, he thought - but very possibly Fillon. "Just so I know where to avoid. I don't think he likes my company."
Joss shook her head, laughing. *Not even Groll would look for trouble with a man who can wreck a robot bare-handed." She glanced down at his arm. "How are the after-effects ?"
It aches a little," Keill said, flexing his fingers, "but it does •what I tell it to."
"Good. Because Quern's due back this evening — and I think he'll want to get things started right away."
Those words, after she left, began an anticipation within Keill that grew throughout the afternoon - and rose even higher when, near sunset, he received no response to an attempt to reach GIr.
So Quern was on his way, within his own mental range of the Ouster, and GIr had set up the shielding again in her own and Keill's minds.
His anticipation reached a new peak soon afterwards when Joss returned to Keill's cubicle. No longer preoccupied, she showed the same barely contained excitement Keill had seen before. She glowed and sparkled, and Keill could hardly take his eyes off her as they went towards the meeting room, where, she said, Quern was waiting.
The albino sat as before at the long table, with the full Council in attendance. To Keill's surprise, Groll was there as lounging sullenly against the far wall.
"I'm told we nearly lost you," Quern said, without a trace of concern in his cold voice.
"Nearl" Keill said. Then, on impulse, he added: for a moment I felt the wing of death upon me."
He had no doubt that a flicker of response showed in the ied-rimmed, deep-set eyes. Surprise, perhaps, or wariness -but also, oddly, a trace of sardonic amusement.
'Most poetic," Quern murmured. "And is it true that you have not been... put out of action ?"
Keill lifted his lightly bandaged arm. It's healing."
"How fortunate. And, from what I hear of the occurrence, how extremely...astonishing, that your injury should be so minor." He studied Keill coldly for a moment *You are a very unusual man, in many ways."
Keill felt certain that Quern was alluding partly to the mind-shield, which would be a mystery still to the albino. And he was also certain, though he felt nothing, that at that moment Glr would be resisting another of Quern's battering probes at KeilPs mind.
To distract him, Keill said curtly, i doubt if you brought me here to inquire after
my health."
'No, indeed." Quern leaned back, folding his bony hands. "Our preparations are now complete and before another day has passed we will have brought the planet Veynaa to its knees. Only the final steps in my... in our plan remain to be taken."
Keill waited, saying nothing.
"Tonight," the chill voice went on, ca raiding party from the Cluster will visit one of the communication satellites above Veynaa. The party will intrude a tape into the planetary vid system, which will issue our ultimatum to the Veynaaa authorities."
Keill raised an eyebrow. "And the whole planet will simply lie down and surrender ?"
"Precisely." Quern's smile was icy. "Because the vid tape will also inform the Veynaans what will happen if they do not."
"Are you going to let me in on the secret?" Keill asked.
I think you have an inkling of it already," Quern said, glancing coldly at Shalet. "Hints have been dropped that you will not have missed - about the weapon that I have provided for the Cluster."
Keill waited, his face a mask.
'The weapon is extremely powerful, and quite irresistible," Quern continued.
"Were it used, it could... damage much of the planet."
Keill stared coldly round the table at the Councillors. "You would consider using such a thing ? Shalet ? Joss ?"
Neither replied. Shalet gnawed her lower lip unhappily, looking down at the table, but Joss met his gaze firmly, her face pale and determined. Quern raised a long hand.
It will not need to be used. I have arranged a ... demonstration of the weapon's effect, on one of the dead outer planets of this system. That will be enough to convince the Vcynaans."
"What if it isn't?" Keill asked angrily, aware of a subtly false tone in Quern's voice. "What if the Veynaans refuse to give way ? Will you use the weapon then ?"
"They will not refuse," Quern snapped. "Veynaans are realists, not romantic fools. They will see that they have no choice."
Again Keill's gaze swept the table, but there was to be no help there. Joss's eyes were hard and bright with the zeal of a revolutionary; Fillon was smiling with smug delight. Shalet and the two old men looked nervous, but Quern's influence seemed to have overwhelmed them.
