by Simon Haynes
"Switch below socket," said Clunk faintly.
Hal found the switch, took hold of the plug and pushed it back in.
Clunk jerked. "Wow, I'm alive! Alive!"
"Sort of," said Hal. "But —"
"Watch this!" There was a tremendous jolt and suddenly they were high in the air. Clunk executed a perfect back flip and dropped to the platform like a cat. Hal landed flat on his back.
"You're mad," he muttered, glaring at the robot. "I should have let you fall."
Clunk's eyes glowed hot yellow in the twilight. "You can't kill me. I'm invincible!" he shouted, laughing wildly.
Chapter 9
Hal sat back in his chair and watched the autopilot's crosshairs tracking the expanding blue and white disk of Seraph IV. The hyperspace jump from Lamira had been uneventful, and after a brief run through space and two orbits of the planet, the ship was now lined up for final approach. A green rectangle popped up on the screen and showed the local time: 5.30 p.m.
Hal heard a groan and turned round. Clunk was slumped against the wall with his head in his hands, the extension lead coiled on the floor beside him. "Invincible, eh?"
The robot shook his head gingerly. "I should have used a trickle charge."
"Where are we supposed to land, by the way? Jerling said you had the details."
"The information was placed in my memory banks before I came aboard. I need to interface with the Navcom to upload it."
"Get on with it, then."
Clunk stood and crossed to the console, pulling the end of the cord with him. He ran his hands over the panel.
"Lower," said the Navcom.
Clunk felt under the front edge, and a burst of static came through the speaker. "Interesting." He glanced at Hal. "The Navcom is equipped with a non-standard communications port."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
"I'll have to use a special adaptor to complete the transfer."
"All right, just get on with it. We're late enough as it is."
"Let me finish the initial programming." Clunk ran his hands over the console, pressing buttons and tapping dials. There were several bursts of static from the speakers.
Hal frowned. "Listen, while you're fooling around, the ship's racing towards a very solid planet at very high speed. I don't want to spoil your fun, but —" His eyebrows shot up as the robot stuck a probe into the front of the console. The lights flickered for a moment or two, then the overhead light popped and went out.
Clunk detached himself and looked across the flight deck, gleaming in the light from the instruments. "Data transfer complete."
"Well I'll be buggered," said Hal.
Clunk shook his head. "I don't have the right adaptor."
*
Farrell sat at his desk, staring at his terminal. It was two hours since he'd spoken to Gordon, and only thirty minutes until the meeting with Vurdi. Why couldn't his brother make up his damned mind?
"Yes?" called Farrell, as his terminal beeped.
"It's Gordon. They've finished the service on my flyer. Do you have time to pick it up for me?"
Farrell kept his voice even. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do."
"Oh, and I've gone over your figures. Why do your expenses include fuel and landing fees? You're using a company ship."
Farrell grinned. His brother would have made an excellent tax inspector. "Sorry, Gordon. I modified an old job costing spreadsheet. I must have forgotten to delete some stuff."
"Very well. I shall modify the total and put the money in your account this afternoon."
Farrell sighed with relief. That would get Vurdi off his back.
"Is there anything else you need?" asked Gordon.
A couple of million and a new house, thought Farrell. He glanced at his exercise book. No, he could work for those. "Everything's covered."
"The factory staff are being notified and the covers are coming off the production lines. Are you sure you can get these parts?"
Farrell nodded. "Leave it to me." As soon as Gordon hung up, Farrell sent off a note for Vurdi: Cancel meeting, debt paid in full.
Now all he had to do was get his hands on the cargo.
*
The Black Gull rocked wildly as it dropped through Seraph IV's thin atmosphere. Clunk was busy at the console, checking displays and fiddling with knobs and switches, while Hal stood nearby watching. He knew exactly how to land the ship himself of course, but it was a novelty to see the full landing checklist performed right in front of his eyes. Apart from a brief lesson when he bought the Black Gull, he'd never seen anything like it.
"Have you been to this planet before?" asked Hal.
Clunk shook his head. "According to your database it's mostly agricultural. A group of colonists founded a settlement on the other side of the planet, but apart from that it's uninhabited."
"Incoming call," said the Navcom.
Hal nodded. "Go ahead."
"This is the battleship Almeria of the Seraph Imperial Navy," said a male voice. "You're entering a restricted zone. Please transmit your ID, flight log and manifest immediately. Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction."
"Send the response," said Hal.
"Modifications to my programming are instructing me to transmit false data. Please advise."
Hal glanced at Clunk. "Did you do this?"
"Yes. Mr Jerling told me to bypass customs."
"Customs, yes. Not a battleship."
"Don't worry, it's all the same thing."
Hal shrugged. "All right, go ahead Navcom."
"Transmitting spurious data."
There was a burst of static. "This Seraph IV is … Imperial please … Naval gaze. Thank you, bingo."
"What was that?"
"Their communication systems are suffering from the effects of a trojan," said Clunk. "They think we're an asteroid, or possibly even a small moon. It's somewhat erratic."
"You attacked a whacking great battleship with a virus. Are you out of your mind?"
"Relax, Mr Spacejock. We'll be safe as long as we land quickly and get off their screens."
Hal looked up at the viewscreen, which was displaying a detailed map of the planetary surface. "What are those dark patches?"
"Oceans."
Hal studied the screen a bit longer. "Where are we landing?"
"Right here," said Clunk, dragging a bright green cross to the centre of the display. "Fortunately there aren't any populated areas, or we'd have to be a lot more precise. Let me just …"
He passed his hand over a control and three quarters of the map turned red.
"Oh dear."
"What?"
"Exactly how old is your database?"
"I don't know. They keep asking me to upgrade but it costs a fortune."
"I'm afraid we have a bit of a problem. You see, those red patches are populated areas."
"You said it was uninhabited!"
"I took that information from your database, which appears to be decades out of date. Unfortunately the planet has been developed in the meantime."
"Well we can't land in the high street. What's next?"
"Let me find Incubots." Clunk waved his middle finger at the screen while simultaneously pulling at thin air with his right hand. The red areas scrolled off the map until only half a dozen small patches remained. In the middle was a pulsing green dot.
"That's a bit better," said Hal. He gestured at a blue patch alongside. "Is that a city?"
"I don't think so." Clunk made a circle with his finger and thumb and blew through the middle. "Light industrial area," he said, as the patch turned yellow. "We must land on the far side of Incubots."
"Fine by me."
Green rectangles appeared in the corners of the screen, displaying scrolling lines of text. "What's that all about?" asked Hal.
"Status displays. They're vital for safe landings."
"Really? How did you turn them on?"
Clunk gave him a look. "Have you cons
idered investing in a little flight training?"
"From a bunch of overpaid desk jockeys? I don't need that rubbish." Hal cracked his knuckles. "Now stand back. This is where I take over."
"You realise we'll be landing in total darkness?"
"I can handle it," said Hal firmly.
"Are you sure?"
"Certain." Hal pressed a large green button and a recorded voice reverberated around the Black Gull's flight deck.
"All personnel, all personnel, please prepare for landing. I repeat: please prepare for landing."
Preparations complete, Hal sat back in his chair and put his feet up. Alongside him, Clunk watched the planetary surface growing larger and larger by the second. When he realised Hal was just going to sit and watch it, he cleared his throat. "Are you going to land the ship or not?"
"It's all taken care of," said Hal, indicating the green button.
Clunk blinked. "You do know what that button does?"
"Of course I do. It lands the ship."
"It most certainly does not. It just plays a warning message over the intercom."
"Yeah, sure," said Hal, with a laugh.
"I'm deadly serious."
"But I always press that button when I want to land!"
Clunk nodded slowly, the blue and red map reflected in his eyes. "I suppose that would do the job on many planets. The navigation computer locks onto the spaceport's beacon and controls your descent automatically. It's a failsafe."
"Are you saying the Navcom lands the Gull for me?"
"Correct. Using the beacon installed at every spaceport."
Hal's eyes widened. "But there's no beacon here! We're landing in a field!"
"'Landing' is not the word I would use, given our current rate of descent."
Hal stared at the viewscreen. Earlier it had shown an expanse of darkness criss-crossed with streetlights. Now he could pick out the houses. He was still gaping at the terrifying display when a large red cross flashed up on the screen.
"Warning, impact imminent," said the Navcom calmly.
A split second later Hal was out of the pilot's chair. "I've changed my mind," he said. "You land it."
"Me?"
"You're the specialist. Jerling said so."
"But we're about to crash into the surface!"
"Better get to it, then."
Muttering under his breath, Clunk slid into the pilot's chair and took the controls. "Brace yourself," he said over his shoulder. "This is going to be rough."
Chapter 10
Sweat ran down Hal's face as the Black Gull plummeted towards the waiting planet. Thrusters howled and gravity generators moaned as Clunk fought the controls, and while his efforts appeared to be slowing the ship, the tremendous outpouring of energy had raised the flight deck temperature to very uncomfortable levels.
"Can't you put the air back on?" demanded Hal.
"We need every scrap of power for the engines."
"But it's hot!"
Clunk's hands blurred over the controls. "I'm rather busy," he said, as the ship swung wildly. "Can we discuss this later?"
"If there is a later," muttered Hal. "Do you think we'll make it?"
"The engines are running at full reverse throttle, but it's not enough."
"I'll take that as a no." Hal examined the screen, where the landing field had grown from a thumbnail to a sizeable rectangle. "Can't you do anything?"
"There is one last chance," said Clunk. "If it works, we're saved."
"And if it doesn't?"
"We'll tunnel so far underground you won't need a burial." Clunk reached for a large silver knob. "Hang on."
"Hang on?" shouted Hal. "What to?"
Clunk twisted the knob and leaned towards the Navcom's microphone. "Reverse one hundred and twenty per cent." He saw Hal's expression and winked. "It's called overclocking."
There was a screaming roar from the engines and Hal's legs buckled under the crush of seven or eight gravities. Supported by the console, he clenched his teeth and stared at the viewscreen, his vision blurring as the Black Gull strained every hand-welded joint.
"Brace yourself!" shouted Clunk, as the ground rushed up to meet them.
Hal was thrown to the deck as the ship thudded down on its landing legs. The recoil threw him into the air, and he came down again flat on his back. As he lay there on the cold steel deck, gritting his teeth and groaning at the pain, he could still find a bright side: at least this time he didn't have a giant robot trying to choke him.
The engines cut out, and in the ensuing quiet the Navcom's voice came through the console speakers loud and clear.
"Landing successful," said the computer calmly. "Local time is six pm."
Hal blinked stars from his eyes and struggled to his feet. "Good to see the old girl can still make a decent landing. They don't build them like this any more, you know."
"They never built them like this," said Clunk with a quick glance around the flight deck. "It takes years of misuse to get a ship into this condition."
"Nice job with the controls, by the way."
"You're welcome."
"Now, we'd better find this Regan character and get the cargo aboard."
"Regan?" Clunk shook his head. "You mean Redge."
"Jerling told me Regan."
"It doesn't matter what you may have heard. The contact's name is Redge Muller."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself."
"I looked up Incubots in your database."
"Who said you could mess with my ship?"
Clunk looked uncomfortable. "I was curious."
"You keep that probe away from my Navcom." Hal strode to the airlock and unsealed it. The inner door slid open with a thump, and there was a hiss as the pressure equalised. "It's a bit dark out there," he said, peering through the yellowed porthole.
"Shall I go out first. I can use my infra-red vision and relay a feed to the main screen."
Hal looked at him suspiciously. "More of that interfacing lark?"
"No, I'll transmit the data using short-range comms."
Hal backed out of the airlock then stopped as a thought occurred to him. "I thought it was broken?"
"Must have been a loose connection." Clunk pushed past and entered the airlock. The outer door grated open, admitting a gust of cold wind, and the robot stepped onto the platform. "Are you receiving?" called Clunk.
Hal thumped the console, and an indistinct image appeared on the viewscreen. "I am now. Go ahead."
The robot clumped down the metal ramp, and the image from his chest mounted camera rolled and wobbled on the main screen. When the robot reached the bottom he panned the camera to show a green shape moving towards him. Hal squinted at it, trying to decide whether it was a human being wearing size eighty-six boots, or a four-legged cactus. "Navcom, can you tidy the picture up a bit?"
"Negative. The signal is being jammed by powerful electro-magnetic signal."
"Is someone using a jamming ray?"
"No, it's interference from our generators."
Hal snorted. On the screen the pale green shape raised one of its indistinct limbs, holding out an even more indistinct blob. "Careful," muttered Hal. "That thing could be armed."
There was a yelp of pain and the fuzzy blob was yanked away.
"What happened? What did it do to you?"
"I have made contact, Mr Spacejock. It's safe for you to come out."
*
Hal walked through the airlock and eyed the figures at the foot of the passenger ramp. The end had sunk into the soft, broken earth of a freshly ploughed field, and beams from the ship's landing lights bathed the scene with a stark, white glare. There was a light mist in the air, concentrated around a copse of trees that echoed with the chirp of nocturnal insects. Nearby, a chain-link fence was topped with coils of rusty wire and festooned with faded signs.
We got the parts you need!
Cheapest on Seraph!
Incubots: We strip 'em and ship 'em!
There was a double gate, which was closed, but a small access door in the corner stood open. Hal made his way down the ramp, his boots thudding on the metal grille. Shaken free by the impact, drops of condensation fell through the light to the ground below like a shower of falling stars. At the bottom, Clunk was talking to a tall, rangy man in a battered, wide-brimmed hat and knee-length coat. The man's face was twisted with pain, and he was massaging his right hand. "You took your time," he said, squinting into the light.
"Nice to meet you too." Stepping off the ramp, Hal almost lost his balance as his feet sank into the earth. He straightened up and held his hand out. "Hal Spacejock."
"I'm not shaking that. Your bloody robot just crushed my fingers."
"He's not mine. I'm just giving him a lift." Hal gestured towards the fence. "Clear something up for me. Are you Redge or Regan Muller?"
"Neither. The name's Bevan."
"We're at the right place, though? Incubots?"
"Correct."
Hal looked around. "So where's the cargo?"
"Not so fast, sunshine. I got to see your clearance first."
"Pardon?"
"Clearance." Bevan held his hand up, finger and thumb slightly apart. "It's a data chip, about so big."
"Jerling didn't say anything about clearance." Hal looked at Clunk. "Do you know anything about this?"
"I'm not familiar with the practice."
"There's always a chip for these jobs," said Bevan. "You'll just have to fetch it."
"Now look here, if you think I'm going all the way back to Forg for a —"
Bevan started to laugh. "Always fools the new boys," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Gotta laugh, don't you?" Still chuckling to himself he shoved two grubby fingers in his mouth and blew an ear-splitting whistle. There was a clatter of chains and the gates swung open to reveal a large tractor. The wide balloon tyres sank into the soft earth as it powered forwards, dragging a line of covered trailers.
Hal eyed the lengthy train in concern. "How much stuff is there?"
"Everything we could lay our hands on," said Bevan. "Jerling's desperate."
As the tractor ground its way across the field, Clunk tugged Bevan's sleeve. "Excuse me."
Bevan looked him up and down. "Yeah?"
"I'm supposed to meet Redge Muller."
