Hal Spacejock 6: Safe Art

by Simon Haynes

  * * *

  Hal stared at Harriet in disbelief. "Are you sure those are your orders?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "Boson's gone mad," said Hal with conviction. "You should report him. Get him locked up."

  "He's my boss, Hal. I have to do what I'm told."

  "But they'll have security cameras, checkpoints, gun turrets, guards … killer robots, even." Hal gestured at the screen, where the orbiter turned slowly in the pitiless glare from the local sun. Light glinted off gun barrels and missile launchers alike, and the stark white structure looked deadly and unwelcoming. "The weapons factory was bad enough, but this will be ten times worse. And it's not just the security on board, you know. If they discover a security breach they'll blow us to bits when we leave."

  "I know it's a risk."

  "No, it's a giant mountain of risks, sitting on a risk faultline, with a shonky old nuclear power station perched on top."

  "I've had training, Hal. If you can just get me a disguise, I know I can pull this off."

  "You don't have to do it," protested Hal. "Clunk and I, we can —"

  "No, you've got to deliver the goods. Although …"

  "Yes?"

  Harriet allowed herself a smile. "A little distraction wouldn't go astray."

  "You've got it."

  * * *

  "Backsight Orbiter, this is the interstellar freighter Volante requesting docking clearance."

  "Stand by, Volante."

  There was a brief delay before the traffic controller spoke again.

  "Volante, please confirm your cargo."

  "They're artworks for Olivia Backsight."

  "Have you visited any farms in the past two weeks?"

  "No."

  "Do you have any wood or animal matter aboard?"

  "Of course we do. The artworks include a fish, a length of intestine and a stuffed cow."

  "Docking denied. Have a nice day."

  The connection went dead, and Clunk's eyebrows went up. After a second or two, he tried again. "Orbiter, these artworks were paid for by Olivia Backsight herself."

  "I don't care if she signed for them in her own blood. We have strict quarantine regulations."

  "But —"

  "Docking denied."

  Clunk pressed his lips together. "Navcom, get me Olivia Backsight."

  Chapter 30

  Hal stared at the robot in shock. "She told you to what?"

  Clunk had only spent a few moments speaking to Olivia Backsight, but she'd made her wishes very clear. "We're to dump the artworks in space. Everything containing animal matter must go, which means all of them bar Hairpiece."

  "Just because of quarantine?" Hal shook his head. "Unbelievable."

  From the look on Clunk's face, he could hardly believe it himself. No doubt the robot thought it would be a tragic loss to the art world, whereas Hal was scandalised by the waste of money.

  "And those orders came from the old bat herself?" asked Hal, who was still expecting a surprise twist.

  "Ms Olivia Backsight, yes."

  "It wasn't someone playing a joke on you?"

  "No, it was definitely her. I even got it in writing, signed and everything."

  Hal shrugged. "Okay, if that's what she wants. How do we do it? Push it all out the back?"

  "No, that would create a navigation hazard."

  "Okay, why not feed them into the exhaust chamber like you did with the, er …"

  "Questionable reading material? That would work for Fish in a Jar and Semi Colon, but Cow in a Field is far too big." Clunk hesitated. "We could always return to orbit and eject the artworks there. They'd burn up safely during re-entry."

  "I'm not wasting a single drop of fuel on this. You'll have to think of something else."

  Clunk rubbed his chin with a grating, squealing sound. "There is one possibility."

  "Good. Do it."

  "I haven't explained yet."

  "Will it get rid of the artworks?"

  "Oh yes."

  "That's all I need to know. Come and find me in the flight deck when you're done."

  * * *

  Hal made himself comfortable in the pilot's chair, studying the live feed from the cargo hold which the Navcom was displaying on the main viewscreen. According to Clunk, dropping the artworks out the back of the ship was a gross violation of dumping laws, but firing them into planetary orbit was more of a grey area. Grey or not, Bright's so-called artworks had landed them in a great deal of bother over the past day or so, and watching them sail away from the ship would be almost as good as seeing them smashed to pieces by a team of sledgehammer-wielding maniacs. In anticipation of the show, Hal had made himself a fresh coffee and fetched his big tin of biscuit fragments from the third deck. Meri had been there, engrossed in a documentary on dodgy cargo pilots, and Hal managed to slip away without telling her what they were about to do to Bright's artworks.

  Fish in a Jar was first to go, tossed out by a visibly hesitant Clunk. It went about five metres and came straight back again, attracted by the Volante's artificial gravity. Clunk caught it one-handed and threw it again, much harder this time. The fish separated from its container and spun away like a silver boomerang … only to return like one. The jar and the stones were a little slower returning, but they came back all the same. The water came back as a globule, which Clunk managed to catch with his face.

  "Don't do that with the cow," snorted Hal, thoroughly enjoying himself. He put his feet up and took a biscuit from the tin by his elbow, selecting one with a heavy coating of chocolate. For once, Clunk had let him choose their supplies, and the result was a load of delicious, gooey biscuits the like of which Hal hadn't tasted for years. Brushing crumbs from his flight suit, he gazed at the screen in rapt attention as he wondered what Clunk was going to try next.

  The robot was doing something with two lengths of string and a small square of fabric, and when it was complete Hal realised Clunk had made a sling. The robot placed the fish in the fabric, gripped the loose ends of the string, and began swinging it around his head, faster and faster, until the fish's polished scales formed a shimmering circle. When he was ready he launched forwards, releasing one of the strings. Unfortunately, the fish slipped out early, speared across the cargo hold and slammed into the cow's horns, knocking one off and leaving it dangling by a flap of skin.

  Hal laughed so hard he almost swallowed his biscuit. The screen shimmered through the tears coursing down his cheeks, and he was forced to sit up and catch his breath, which came in rasping gasps. As he recovered he noticed Clunk directing a stern look at the camera, the robot's face radiating anger. Then he stomped out of sight.

  When Clunk came back, he was dragging a drum of cable. Hal watched in breathless anticipation as the robot unwound meters and meters of green-coated wire, wondering what Clunk's plan was. With the robot this pissed off, it was bound to be good.

  Clunk vanished for a few moments, then returned with several lengths of metal rod. He selected four and bent them a couple of times, nodding in satisfaction as they sprung back into shape. Then, working fast, he bound the four lengths into one thick rod with the wire. When he'd finished, he tied the ends off and bent the bundle of metal rods into an arc, stringing another length of wire between them. Hal realised the robot had fashioned a huge bow, and judging from the effort it was taking to draw it back, the thing was probably capable of hurling more than just fish into the depths of space.

  Clunk picked through the remaining rods and selected a shorter one. Recovering the battered fish, he tore of a length of wire and bound it firmly to one end of the rod. When he'd finished, he fitted his makeshift arrow into the bow and pulled back, sighting on the rear door.

  Hal held his breath. If the thing snapped Clunk would probably lose his head - literally.

  The camera shook as Clunk released his shot, and the fish-laden arrow vanished through the rear doors in the blink of an eye, leaving a silver after-image smeared across the viewscreen. Terminal veloci
ty hadn't just been achieved, it had been surpassed by a healthy margin. In fact, Hal fully expected that arrow to be found embedded in a distant planet a decade or so hence.

  Clunk dispatched the glass jar by attaching it to another arrow, sending it skimming out the back door with another shot from his mighty bow. Semi-Colon followed, sent on its way without fuss.

  Hal took another biscuit and got comfortable. Only the cow was left now, and if Clunk thought he could shoot that out the rear doors with a homemade bow and arrow he had another think coming. As the robot strode towards the stuffed animal, Hal had a sudden thought. What if the robot was planning to send it out the back of the ship in pieces? Clunk was ill-disposed towards cows at the best of times, and this one was likely to be more difficult that any he'd encountered before - despite being deader than the length of gut Bright had selected for one of his minor exhibits. Realising Clunk might be about to dismember the cow before his eyes, Hal returned his biscuit to the tin untouched.

  His fears were unfounded. The robot moved around the hold, inspecting the contents of lockers and tool boxes. When he came back he was carrying a large black case plastered with warning labels. Hal could just make out the words 'explosive' and 'fire hazard', but he didn't remember seeing the box before. He had a vague idea it was part of the emergency equipment, the one area where Clunk was firm: Hal was not to touch any of it.

  Clunk set the box down and carefully removed a fat cylinder encased in brown paper. Hal's eyes widened as the paper came off, revealing a signal rocket the size of a wine bottle. Again and again Clunk dipped into the box, until a row of these rockets lay on the deck like the aftermath of a heavy party.

  Once Clunk had unwrapped all the rockets, he gathered them up and carried them to the cow. Working quickly and efficiently, he attached them to its legs with strips of broad tape, carefully aligning them so they all pointed away from the cargo hold doors.

  When he was done, Clunk stood back to check his work, stooping once or twice to adjust the angle here or fasten a rocket more securely there. Satisfied, he gathered all the riptabs in one hand and prepared to pull them.

  Hal held his breath. From the size of the rockets, he could tell that there was a large amount of explosive power in each one, and a cow was hardly the most aerodynamic shape on the market. Of course, the hold was in total vacuum so air didn't come into it, but his list of 'things to stick rockets to' would have been a mile long before it included stuffed cows.

  There was a jerk as Clunk pulled the tabs, and a series of eye-watering flashes as the rockets fired within split seconds of each other, spurting blue flame. The cow shuddered on all four legs, then took off like a drunken sailer, drifting towards the rear of the hold. Halfway there, just as it seemed they were about to see the back of the cow forever, disaster struck. One of the rockets came loose and begun to spin around the cow's hind leg like an oversized catherine wheel, bumping the cow nose-first into the wall. The rockets kept pushing lustily, and through the gathering smoke Hal saw Clunk run across the hold and grab the cow's tail, attempting to drag it back on course. Instead, two more rockets came loose, and the cow shot into the middle of the hold and began spinning on the spot, getting faster and faster. The loose horn spun away, while Clunk was dragged round behind the cow like a novice cowboy. He'd obviously decided that letting go was the more dangerous course of action, and so he wrapped his hands round the stringly tail and held on grimly, legs flailing as the cow bucked and weaved.

  Unfortunately, signal rockets only have a limited lifespan. Sooner or later they go bang, and six of them in close proximity go bang with gusto. One minute Clunk was being swung in tight circles, and the next there was a very bright flash of light … quickly hidden by a rapidly expanding cloud of cow hair, cow hide and shredded stuffing. The last thing Hal saw before the view was completely blotted out was Clunk flying backwards, still hanging onto the cow's tail.

  * * *

  By the time Hal got to the inner door the hold was pressurised again. Taking that as a good sign, he opened the door and peered in.

  At first he thought he was back on Forzen, since the hold looked like it was knee deep in dirty snow. A figure came towards him, looming out of the settling blizzard of flakes like a stiff and slightly metallic snowman. Underneath layers of burnt hair and singed stuffing Hal could just make out Clunk's less than happy face. "So, how'd it go?" asked Hal lamely.

  "Famously," said the robot curtly. "Like a charm."

  "I caught a bit on the screen upstairs."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yeah. The bow and arrows were a good idea."

  Under the mess, Clunk's lips tightened.

  "The rocket thing was promising." Hal looked around the hold. "At first."

  Clunk nodded slowly.

  Hal looked around at the mess. "Now it really is a stuffed cow," he said at last.

  Clunk said nothing.

  "Do you want a hand cleaning up?"

  "I can manage." Clunk's eyes gleamed. "Unless you'd care to toss for it?"

  "N-no. I'll, er, go back and get the Navcom ready. Say, ten minutes?"

  "Thirty."

  "On my way." Hal closed the door and beat a hasty retreat. That was the problem with robots - they could turn molehills into mountains. Or cows into feather beds, he thought, as he stepped into the lift.

  * * *

  The Volante docked without incident, and Hal stepped jauntily down the cargo ramp to meet the welcoming party. "Evening all," he called enthusiastically. "Are you ready to roll the rock?"

  There were half a dozen workers at the foot of the ramp, dressed in identical white overalls and wearing identical forbidding expressions. Nearby, Hal saw Olivia Backsight leaning on her polished cane, her eyes sharp as she gave the Volante the once over. Next to her was Rodney, who only had eyes for Hal. From his expression, he was itching to draw his blade and put it to good use.

  "You're late," said Olivia at last.

  "I'm sorry. We had engine troubles." Hal indicated Clunk, who had followed him down the ramp. "My robot kept them running, but we could use a couple of fuel filters."

  "What do you think this is, a service centre?" Olivia waved the workers towards the hold. "Start unloading."

  The giant rock was removed quickly and efficiently, unhooked from the sling and manoeuvred onto a huge anti-grav sled, which strained and groaned under the weight. The workers moved the sled towards the exit doors, and Hal realised the delivery was almost complete. It was time for his distraction!

  During their approach to the orbiter, Hal had racked his brains for a suitable plan. He discarded several ideas as impractical, impossible or downright lethal, but had finally hit upon the perfect distraction. Now, with the cargo disappearing from the docking bay, he realised it was time to put this plan into action.

  "Er, excuse me?" he said.

  Olivia Backsight gave him a look. "Yes?"

  "Can I use your toilet?"

  "Of course not."

  Hal blinked. So much for his carefully planned distraction. "But mine's blocked, and —"

  "I'm sorry, it's out of the question." Olivia gestured towards the departing rock with her cane. "My people are going to inspect that piece, and you will remain here until I'm satisfied. Is that understood?"

  "Inspect?" said Clunk, looking worried.

  "Of course. It's a valuable piece, and I want to make sure it's in perfect condition."

  Hal could understand Clunk's concern. They'd landed the Volante on the rock, rolled it around inside various trucks and even knocked down a stray building with it. If Olivia was looking for damage, she was sure to find some. Then he remembered his promise to Harriet - he had to distract the welcoming party so she could leave the ship unnoticed! Hal glanced at Clunk, wondering whether he could stage a quick fist fight. Unfortunately, the robot's fists were like boulders, and instead of a distraction he'd probably get a one-way trip to hospital. "Er, is it okay if we work on the engines?"

  "I don't care, as long
as you stay aboard your ship." On this, Olivia turned and left. Rodney shot Hal a venomous look, then followed.

  Hal traipsed up the cargo ramp, where he found Harriet crouched behind the door pillar. She was wearing a spare flight suit, and her hair was tied back in a business-like ponytail.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "They didn't buy it."

  "I'm not surprised," whispered Harriet. "Of all the weak excuses …"

  "It's not my fault!" protested Hal. "Anyway, you saw them watching. They didn't take their eyes off the ship for a second."

  Walsh sighed. "I guess you're right. A handful of grenades wouldn't have distracted that lot."

  Clunk looked from one to the other. "It's not too late, you know. In fact, I believe I can help."

  "Really?" Harriet looked hopeful. "How?"

  "I'll show you. Just … be ready."

  Chapter 31

  Harriet crouched near the cargo hold entrance, her heart thudding in her chest. She glanced towards the far corners of the hangar, eyeing the laser-guided gun turrets and security cameras. Clunk seemed confident his plan would work, but he wasn't the one facing certain death. As she crouched there, nerves tingling, Harriet decided it would probably help if she knew what Clunk's plan actually was.

  "Control, this is the Volante. Do you read?"

  Harriet jumped as Clunk's voice came through a nearby speaker, sounding tinny and distant.

  "Control?" repeated the robot. "Hello? Are you there?"

  "What is it, Volante?"

  "We've just replaced our fuel filters, and I need permission to fire the engines."

  There was a brief pause, and then … "Negative, Volante. Permission denied."

  A moment later Walsh heard Hal's voice, laconic and confident. "Control, if the engines fail on departure we're going to crash right into your shiny space station."

  Another pause, then … "Very well, Volante. You may test your engines."

  "Thanks so much," said Hal. "Stand by, Control. And, er, there may be a little smoke."

  Smoke! Harriet grinned to herself. So that was the plan.