Hal Spacejock 7: Big Bang

by Simon Haynes

  "Y-yes, sir."

  Lardo locked eyes with one of the soldiers, then nodded towards the teleporter. Unwillingly, he obeyed.

  Fl-fl-flashhhh!

  Once the flare died down, the tech inspected the control panel. Then, looking distraught, he shook his head.

  Lardo said nothing. She merely indicated the next soldier.

  * * *

  Clunk sat in the forest, whittling a piece of wood while he waited impatiently for the sun to set. He'd already made a whole family of intricately carved birds, using the blade concealed inside his middle finger, and given the rate the sun was going down he'd have an entire flock by the time it was dark enough to risk an approach to the base.

  Normally he'd have looked up the planet's info in his database, but unfortunately the comprehensive almanac of tides, sunsets and full moons didn't cover such events on alien planets … especially those located in distant galaxies. Instead he had to rely on estimates, and his circuits weren't really at their best when half the variables he was sticking into the formulas were only rough guesses. The upshot was that he wasn't sure when it would get dark, because he didn't know the planet's rotational speed, and he couldn't calculate that without measuring the sun's progress towards the horizon, and he couldn't calculate that because staring directly at the sun would fry his vision. Oh sure, he had sun filters, but they'd jammed years earlier, and it had never seemed important to fix them.

  Clunk tried hitting himself in the side of the head a few times, hoping to shake the filters loose, but instead he managed to knock one of his eyes off-axis. That's when he decided to sit and wait patiently.

  The sun finally went down, and Clunk got to his feet as the gloom gathered under the trees. He activated his night vision, then frowned. Instead of a ghostly green landscape, all he could see was a flickering yellow mess. He applied a couple of filters, then realised he was seeing three or four of everything. A nearby tree now had three copies, and the birds he'd been carving had multiplied like rabbits in springtime. He took a step, trying to work out which were the real carvings and which were the shadow copies, and ended up crunching half underfoot. Gradually, by trial and error, he managed to narrow the copies down to just one, and at that point he abandoned his hiding place and set off for the two bases in the distance.

  Crash! Clunk avoided a shadow tree and instead walked straight into the real one, bending his nose sideways and putting an impressive dent in his chest. As a polite robot he wasn't given to swearing, but the torrent of frustrated curses turned the air blue for several seconds. Then, after straightening his nose as best he could, Clunk avoided the duplicate tree and hurried towards the edge of the forest.

  At the gates he could see two guards standing side by side, and he realised he had a problem. Which was the real one? So far, the duplicates had appeared on the left or right of each other, seemingly at random, so he couldn't just ignore the same side all the time. Worse, they kept swimming around in his vision, making it hard to pin them down.

  Clunk thought for a moment, before crouching to pick up a couple of stones. Then, quick as lightning, he threw one behind each figure.

  There was a grunt of surprise as the stones hit the dirt, and the guard turned to see what was happening. Clunk ran for both pairs of gates at full speed, and at the last second he chose the right-hand one.

  Wrong.

  With a rip of tortured metal, Clunk burst straight though the chainlink fence alongside the gate, leaving a robot-shaped hole in the rusty wire. He stumbled once or twice, then regained his feet and ran for the nearest building.

  Inside, he backed against a wall to listen. There were voices nearby, and he could hear a female alien giving orders.

  "At this very moment, a pair of Euman agents are running around my flagship. Nobody knows what kind of damage they could do, and I'm not going to find out." Lardo gestured with her dagger. "So, you will try another one. After that, another, and another, and so on until we break through, or until we run out of volunteers. Do you understand?"

  "Y-yes, sir."

  Clunk's eyebrows rose, and his spirits soared. Far from having to rescue Hal and Amy, it sounded like they'd escaped all by themselves. Not only that, they'd fled to the B'Con flagship and blocked the teleporter behind them. Clunk felt a burst of pride at their resourcefulness, and then he realised they weren't out of the woods yet. He couldn't follow the humans without the address, and even then there were B'Con soldiers between him and the teleporter.

  Clunk switched off his night sight, ending the highly confusing split vision, and then he peered round the corner to get an idea of the opposition's strength. He saw the Admiral and several nervous-looking soldiers, plus a frightened-looking technician in a lab coat. As he watched, one of the soldiers stepped into the teleporter and vanished.

  "You next," said the Admiral, gesturing at another soldier.

  Clunk eyed the dwindling stock of armed B'Con troops, and he felt a stab of pity. On the other hand, if those same troops caught hold of Hal and Amy they'd do unspeakable things to them. So, the best thing would be to get Hal and Amy to safety as soon as possible. But how?

  Clunk watched the tech send another soldier to his doom, then ducked out of sight to think.

  Could he rush into the chamber and send himself through? Obviously the other end was blocked, but he wasn't a living being, and it was possible the teleporter would let him through safely, despite the risk of materialising inside some random object.

  Then he remembered the difficulty he'd had using the control panel, thanks to its temperature sensors. His cold metal skin wouldn't activate it, and if he tried overheating his circuits again there was no way he'd be able to barge past the soldiers. Last time he could barely raise his hand.

  A flash lit the corridor, and Clunk realised another B'Con soldier had attempted to get through. Sooner or later one of them might make it, and then it would be the end for Hal and Amy.

  No, there had to be another way. Clunk reviewed his recent memories, and then it hit him. The teleporter in the forest! He peered around the corner again, and this time he zoomed in on the control panel to get the destination address. Then he turned and ran, bounding out of the building and racing towards the hole in the fence. Halfway there he remembered something, and he took a quick detour through the barracks to pick up a weapon.

  Outside the base, Clunk didn't bother with the night vision this time, since there were two moons in the night sky. Their combined light was plenty to see by, and Clunk tore through the forest at top speed as he made his way to the second teleporter.

  Clunk parted the vines covering the teleporter cavern, and he smiled to himself at the sight of the gleaming chamber. Then he raised the weapon, adjusted the power and shot himself in the hand.

  Ziing!

  His skin glowed cherry-red, and Clunk blew on his fingers to cool them. Then, when he judged them to be the right temperature, he sought the teleporter panel. It lit up with a blue glow, bringing a triumphant smile to the robot's lips, and he quickly programmed the address of the B'Con ship.

  Then he stepped into the chamber and hesitated, his finger over the go button. At that point he realised this might be the end - not only would he wink out of existence, never to reappear, but he would also be consigning Amy and Hal to a life in captivity.

  Well, perhaps it would be different given he wasn't a living being. Perhaps. But Amy and Hal needed him, and there was no alternative.

  So, he raised his finger to the go button and got ready to press it.

  * * *

  Hal and Amy were in luck. The third door they tried led to a small armoury with racks of handguns, blast rifles and grenades. Hal's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, and he wasted no time slinging high-powered weapons over his shoulder, jamming pistols into his waistband and stuffing potent grenades into his pocket.

  "Don't weigh yourself down too much," said Amy, who'd picked out a single blast rifle and a couple of proximity mines. "We might have
to run for it."

  Hal struck a pose with a rocket launcher. "I'm done with running," he declared, snapping off the safety catch. "I'm going to fry me up some B'Con!"

  * * *

  Clunk's finger hovered over the go button, and he was just about to press it when an idea occurred to him. What if he could reverse the teleporter somehow? If he could bring the obstruction here, he could leap into the chamber and immediately teleport back to the alien flagship with it.

  Moments later he had the panel open, and he started probing the delicate circuitry inside. Before long he realised he could override the sending circuits, forcing a carrier message through. Then, by adding a couple of commands, he should be able to fire the remote teleporter. On the other hand, the override might blow the circuits at both ends, stranding everyone. There were legendary tales from the early days of exploration, where multi-year missions had ended in disaster because distant probes had been sent commands in the wrong order.

  Still, it was worth a try. Even if he accidentally disabled the teleporter aboard the B'Con ship, it might buy Hal and Amy some more time.

  Clunk worked quickly, reprogramming the teleporter's control panel. When he was ready he stepped out of the chamber, shielded his eyes, and hit the button.

  Flash!

  When he opened his eyes, the chamber was full of office equipment. Clunk smiled to himself, but there was no time for celebration. Now he'd cleared the blockage, the B'Con Admiral could send troops through. So, he stepped into the chamber and tapped the go button.

  Flash!

  The office equipment and the robot disappeared, and after a brief moment of disorientation Clunk realised he'd arrived safely.

  Then someone shouted in alarm, and all hell broke loose as they opened up with heavy weapons.

  * * *

  "Stop!" shouted Amy. "Stop, stop, STOP!"

  Hal was busy blasting the office furniture to matchsticks, but something in Amy's tone registered, and he released the trigger. There was a patter of noise as fragments rained down, and then he saw movement through the swirling smoke.

  "No, wait!" cried Amy, as Hal swung the rocket launcher off his shoulder and prepared to blast the teleporter, the figure and the debris right out the side of the alien ship.

  Something moved again, and the top of a desk slipped sideways and fell out of the teleporter chamber. Then, slowly, a figure got to its feet, brushing sawdust and blobs of molten plastic from its bronze skin.

  "Clunk!" shouted Hal. "It's you!"

  "It nearly wasn't," said the robot, eying the debris.

  Amy ran up and hugged the robot. "It's great to see you," she whispered.

  "You too," said Clunk, giving her a fond smile. "I held grave fears for your safety."

  Hal rolled his eyes.

  "We have to discuss our plans," said Clunk, once he was free of the debris. "The B'Con are still trying to get through, and I'm sure they'll be here eventually."

  Hal patted the rocket launcher. "I have a neat little B'Con slicer right here in my hands. And once we've got rid of them we can capture this ship, fly back to —"

  "Mr Spacejock, you haven't boarded just any old ship. We're aboard the alien flagship, with potentially thousands of heavily-armed troops. We could no more capture this vessel than a pet dog could save the Volante from an alien invasion force."

  "Crap." Hal thought for a moment. "Okay, how about we —"

  Clunk raised his hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "I believe we should each think on the problem, write down our plans, and submit the result to a vote. That way we'll avoid lengthy arguments and discussion."

  "Works for me," remarked Hal. "Do you have a pencil and paper?"

  * * *

  The three of them spent a couple of minutes in deep thought, with much scribbling and crossing out. When they were ready, they folded up their suggestions and dropped them into a large plastic mug.

  Clunk closed his eyes, and - somewhat theatrically - held the mug aloft for Amy to select the first plan.

  "Why bother with that nonsense?" demanded Hal. "We're going to read them all anyway."

  "The first selection may carry more weight," explained Clunk. "This is the fairest way."

  "Oh, very well. Get on with it."

  Clunk opened the first piece of paper and scanned the text. "Okay, the this plan involves exploring the alien flagship, taking over one or more weapons stations, and turning them on the rest of the fleet." He paused to look at Hal, then continued. "Once the fleet has been destroyed, we program the flagship to self-destruct, and teleport to safety."

  "Wicked plan," remarked Hal.

  "Yes, if a trifle bold," said Clunk.

  "Don't knock it until you've read the rest."

  Clunk offered the mug to Hal, who took out the next piece of paper. He handed it to Clunk, who opened it with much ceremony. Hal hid a grin at the robot's actions, knowing Clunk was enjoying every second in the spotlight.

  "This is the second plan," said the robot. "It suggests we hack into the flagship's computers, removing the alien planet from the database so the B'Con will never trouble the D'eer again. Then we locate a destination teleporter in human space and make our way home."

  Amy smiled. "That sounds like a great idea."

  "There's still another plan to consider," said Clunk. "Each of us must have a voice, and the third idea may be the best yet."

  Clunk passed the mug to Amy. "Hold it up high so I can choose without looking."

  Hal snorted. "There's only one left, Clunk. Just read the damn thing."

  Ignoring the objections, Clunk closed his eyes and fished around in the mug for the final piece of paper. He drew it out, unfolded it, read it, frowned, turned it over, inspected the back and read it again.

  "Come on," said Amy. "Read it out so we can vote."

  "I think we should get lunch," said Clunk.

  "Worry about that after we've voted," said Amy.

  "Yes, but —"

  "Come on, what's the third plan?"

  Clunk waved the little piece of paper. "That is the third option. We should get lunch."

  Amy grabbed the scrap of paper, frowned at the illiterate scrawl, then rounded on Hal. "That's it?" she demanded. "That's your grand idea to save our lives and protect the D'eer people from the B'Con? We have lunch?"

  "How come you automatically assume I wrote it?"

  "Oh, come on! Do you see any other insensitive clods around here?"

  "All right, all right!" protested Hal. "I just thought we could get something to eat and discuss our next move over coffee."

  Amy waved the slip of paper. "It doesn't say anything about discussing invasion plans. It just says Organise Lunch." She looked closer. "Why the hell did you spell organise with a z?"

  Clunk intervened. "Can we focus on the task in hand? We have two workable plans —"

  "— and one idiotic suggestion —" interjected Amy.

  "— to vote on," finished Clunk. "Each of us should write a number on a piece of paper, and place it in the mug. The plan with the most votes wins."

  "Got it," said Hal.

  "Suits me," said Amy.

  Clunk collected the folded votes, and there was a palpable tension in the air as they all pondered the importance of the outcome. A single vote could have them battling an entire B'Con fleet using the flagship's weapons, or alternatively they might be sneaking around hacking computers before attempting a daring escape.

  "The first vote is for plan number one," declared Clunk, showing everyone the piece of paper so they could verify he wasn't cheating.

  Hal nodded. Using the B'Con flagship to blast the rest of the fleet was a straightforward plan, with a decent chance of success.

  "The second vote is for plan number two," said Clunk, showing them the number.

  Amy cleared her throat. "I thought rescuing the alien civilisation was a noble goal."

  "Thank you," said Clunk gravely. "Now, that's one each, and I believe the third vote will decide the matter."
/>
  They all looked at the folded piece of paper sitting in the palm of his hand.

  "Go on," said Amy. "The suspense is killing me."

  "Yeah," muttered Hal. "And if that doesn't, the B'Con probably will."

  Slowly, agonisingly, Clunk unfolded the piece of paper. He stared at it for a moment or two, as though he were having trouble deciphering the handwriting, and then he held it up for everyone to see.

  Scrawled on the paper was a large number three.

  Amy gaped at it, and then she and Clunk looked at Hal in disbelief.

  "What?" said Hal, spreading his hands. "I'm hungry!"

  Chapter 37

  "Oh, this is bloody hopeless," said Amy. She patted her pockets, then glanced around the teleporter room.

  "What have you lost?" asked Hal.

  "I need a gun."

  "Why? What for?" Hal saw Amy's angry expression, and he understood exactly who she wanted to shoot. "Okay, okay! I'll change my vote if it'll make you happy. I choose plan number two. Hack computers, make the D'eer planet vanish, that sort of thing."

  Amy looked surprised. "I thought you'd choose blowing up the fleet."

  "What, and destroy our only chance of a decent lunch?" Hal snorted. "No chance."

  "You're not seriously choosing a plan based on —"

  "Amy, it's all right," said Clunk gently. "Mr Spacejock is teasing you."

  Amy didn't look convinced, but she didn't have time to object before Clunk took charge, gathering them round like a coach explaining the game plan to a team of novice sky hockey players.

  "We must locate the server room, or at the very least an unattended terminal I can use to access the network. Stealth is the key."

  "Stealth. Got it," said Hal, and he bent to retrieve the rocket launcher and a handful of grenades.

  "Mr Spacejock, our chosen plan does not require violence. Why do you need weapons?"

  "In case the terminal isn't unattended." He hefted the rocket launcher. "I guarantee it will be after I've done."

  "Unattended and unusable," muttered Amy.

  "Right. Let's go."

  "I haven't finished explaining the plan!" protested Clunk.

  "We've got the gist of it," muttered Hal. "Find the server room, hack stuff, and don't stop for lunch." He checked the launcher's ammo, then propped the butt on his hip, one finger curled around the trigger. "Come on, let's move out."