by Simon Haynes
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Tell them to bug off and leave us alone."
"Hello battleship," said Clunk loudly. "This is a cargo vessel, not a target drone."
There was a muttered curse. "Listen, subterfuge was last week. This week it's gunnery practice."
"You don't understand. This is the Black Gull out of …" Clunk glanced at Hal, who shrugged. "Out of Lamira. We're en route to Forg with a cargo of robot parts."
"Sure, sure. Put your shields up, will you? You'll last a bit longer."
Clunk turned to Hal. "I think you'd better talk to them."
Hal addressed the console. "My name is Hal Spacejock, and I'm the owner of this vessel."
There was a snort from the speakers. "My car sounds more human than that."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Lieutenant Cycoh, of the Battleship Almeria."
"Listen up, you prick. If you don't leave us alone I'll come over and boot your testicles over your left shoulder. Got it?"
"That's a bit more human," said the voice grudgingly. "But we're still going to shoot you down."
"This is a trading vessel, you bloody idiot! We're going to Forg!"
"Not any more." There was a pause. "Hey, I get it! You've been programmed with a survival instinct!"
"I was born with one, you moron!"
"Put on a show, all right? We'll give you a head start, and you dodge around a bit and make it tough." There was a click as the lieutenant disconnected.
Hal frowned at Clunk. "Can you get me out of this one?"
"There is something I can try." Clunk turned to the console. "Execute program seventy-two dash one."
"What does that do?"
"I just told their computers that an asteroid is on a collision course with their ship."
"What happens when they check their scanners?"
"They won't. Standard procedure is to hyperspace first and check later."
"Well done, Clunk. Excellent!"
A red light flashed on the console. "This is the Battleship Almeria. In contravention of rule one hundred and twenty-four of the Galactic Treaty, you have attempted to subvert the operation of a naval vessel by transmitting spurious data. This offence is punishable by confiscation and destruction of your ship, and the incarceration of the commanding officer."
"Navcom …" began Clunk.
"I'll handle this," broke in Hal. "Navcom, give me full power."
The engines screamed, hurling the ship forward.
"Now hyperspace!" shouted Hal.
"Please specify destination."
"I don't care! Anywhere!"
"Unable to comply. Destination required."
"Forg," said Clunk hurriedly, before Hal blurted out a planet on the opposite side of the galaxy.
"Calculating hyperspace trajectory."
"Come on, you heap of junk!" shouted Hal, pressing every button within reach. "Hurry it up!"
"Calculations in progress."
"I have a suggestion," said Clunk.
"Whatever it is, do it!"
"Navcom, transmit program fifty-two."
"Complying," said the Navcom. "Transfer complete."
"That should disable them long enough to let us get away."
"How?"
"It's a program I ran up in my spare time," said Clunk modestly. "It disables their fire computers by converting all their targeting data into vintage imperial measurements."
"You're crazy! They'll never fall for that!"
The robot raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised."
There was a beep. "This is the Battleship Almeria. In contravention of rule three hundred and sixteen of the Galactic Treaty, you have attempted to execute unauthorised code on a shipboard computer. This offence is punishable by —"
The transmission was interrupted by a gruff male voice. "Cunning bunch, aren't you? Here's one I made. Enjoy."
"Blark sning bichhh," said the Navcom, and all the lights on the console winked out.
Clunk's face was long as he examined the dead instruments. "Oh dear, their security is much better than I thought."
"What have you done to my computer?"
"Let me check." Clunk held his hands over the console, fingers splayed. He started to shake, and then his eyes jerked wide open, flickering like faulty Christmas lights. Shivering all over, he backed away from the console, warding away an unseen horror with his hands.
"Look out!" shouted Hal, as the robot approached the access tube.
Clunk stopped dead, rocking on his heels. Then his eyes blanked out and he toppled over backwards, vanishing down the access tube with a clatter of tin. There was a crunch as he landed in the lower corridor, followed by the sound of something rolling away.
"Clunk?" Hal ran over to the tube and peered down into the darkness. "Clunk, are you all right?"
Chapter 14
Hal barely touched the rungs as he shot down the ladder, dreading what he might find at the bottom. There was a crunch as he trod on Clunk's fingers, and a creak as he stepped on his ankle. Neither raised a squeak from the normally voluble robot, and when he crouched down next to the upper body he found out why: Clunk's head was missing.
He found it further along the passageway, lying on its side like a discarded fancy dress mask. Picking it up, Hal gave it a shake and stared into the lifeless eyes. "Talk to me, Clunk. Talk to me!"
The only reply was a rattling sound.
"Clunk?" Hal turned the head over and saw a hook, a loop of cable and an electrical connector. He carried the head to the body, where he found a large elastic band and the opposite half of the connector sticking out of the robot's neck. Setting the head down, Hal took both halves of the connector and jammed them together. He snapped his fingers in front of the robot's eyes, but they remained unlit and lifeless.
Hal eased the brittle elastic band over the hook as carefully as he could, and when he let go the head snapped back into place. Repairs complete, he gently raised the robot to a sitting position and waved his hand in front of its face. "Clunk? Can I get you some water?"
There was no reaction.
"Out like a light." Hal stood, and there was a crash as Clunk fell backwards to the deck. Squaring his shoulders, Hal set his jaw and looked up the ladder. With Clunk disabled, the Navcom out of action and the battlecruiser recovering nearby, there was only one thing left to do.
"It can't be that hard to fly this thing," he muttered as he climbed the ladder to the flight deck.
Sitting at the console, gazing across banks of unlabelled buttons and switches, his bravado shrivelled like a prune in a winter gale. He was just wondering how long it would be before the battlecruiser got its weapon systems back online and blasted him into space dust when there was a scraping sound behind him. He turned quickly and saw a battered face rising through the hole in the deck. "Hey, you recovered!"
Clunk shook his head. "I'm barely online." He staggered to the console and leant on it heavily, a pained expression on his face. "I sustained considerable damage falling down the access shaft."
"Really?"
"Yes." Clunk raised his hand. "My fingers are bent, my ankle has been crushed and the back of my head sustained a heavy blow, denting my skull. Apart from that, everything seems to be all right."
"Phew. Stroke of luck, eh?"
"Yes, although some of the injuries are a little puzzling. For example, there's a footprint on the back of my hand." Clunk raised his foot. "How strange, there's another on my ankle. Why, if I didn't know better —"
"Don't stress yourself," said Hal hurriedly. "You might bring up unpleasant memories if you keep going on about it." He helped Clunk into the pilot's chair. "So, what happened back there?"
"They sent a rogue program which attacked the Navcom. When I tried to investigate, I was attacked too. I had to shut down everything to fight it." Clunk shivered. "I only just contained it. It could break out and destroy me at any moment."
"Right. So how do we fix the Navcom?"
"The damage to your computer may be permanent."
"Never. Tough as nails, the Navcom."
"We can only hope." Clunk straightened up slowly, a pained expression on his face. "At least the battlecruiser is still out of action."
"How do you know?"
"We're still alive," said Clunk dryly. He looked at a couple of displays. "Why aren't we moving?"
Hal hesitated. "I was considering my options."
"You have no idea how to fly this ship, do you?"
"I can fly the Gull blindfold," declared Hal. "But now you're sitting there …"
"No no, it's your ship," said Clunk, getting to his feet.
"I, er —"
Clunk waved Hal towards the chair. "I insist."
Realising he was trapped, Hal settled into the seat and studied the console. "What are all those red lights for?"
"System failures."
"Wow. Things must be really bad."
Clunk looked at him. "They were flashing when I first joined the ship."
"So I just ignore them, right?"
Clunk nodded.
"I suppose I ought to set the course."
"We're already programmed direct to the Forg system. All you have to do is activate the hyperspace motors and perform the jump."
"Fine. That's easy." Hal looked over the console. "Really simple."
"First you have to start the main drives."
Hal tapped a couple of dials with his finger, then moved his hand to a cluster of buttons and ran through eeny meeny under his breath.
"Big red button, second from the left," said Clunk.
Hal reached out and pressed it. Nothing happened.
"You have to ignite the boosters before you start the main drives."
The red button was surrounded by four others of various colours. Hal reached out and pressed the yellow one.
"Green," said Clunk in the sudden darkness.
The lights came back on, and Hal pressed the green button. There was a whine from the back of the ship.
Clunk shook his head. "You have to disengage the compressor before you can start the motors."
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" said Hal through clenched teeth. "Okay, you made your point. You're smart and I'm just a dumb monkey."
"Oh no, Mr Spacejock," said Clunk. "Monkeys are quite intelligent."
Hal crossed his arms. "Maybe I'll just sit here until that ship opens fire."
"Why don't we work together?" suggested Clunk. "I'll list the buttons in order and you press them. But whatever you do, don't touch anything unless you clear it with me first."
"To think I always wanted to fly my own ship."
"Press the buttons in this order," said Clunk. "White, blue, green, red."
"White, blue, green, red." Hal pressed each button as he repeated the colours. There was a series of beeps, and a light flashed.
"Good," said Clunk. "Orange, mauve, yellow, purple."
"Orange, mauve, yellow, purple." There was a low rumble and the flight deck began to vibrate. "Hey, this is easy!"
"Red, green, blue, white, purple, purple, pink, green, red." Clunk, pointed across the console. "Flip those switches, then orange again."
"Red, green, blue, white … er, what?"
"Purple, purple, pink, green, red. Faster, Mr Spacejock. The sequence has to be completed in less than fifteen seconds."
"Purple, purple, pink, green, red," said Hal, his hands flying across the console as he pressed the buttons.
"Flip those switches, then press the orange one," said Clunk, pointing.
Hal flipped the switches and pressed the orange button. There was a single beep.
"Right," said Clunk. "Orange, orange, orange, pink, green, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet."
"Orange, orange, orange, pink, green, red, orange …" Hal stopped as Clunk bent double and made a peculiar spluttering noise. "What's wrong? What's happening?"
Clunk leaned back, opened his mouth and howled.
Hal leapt up, his hair standing on end. "Wh-what's up? Clunk, is it the virus? Are you okay?"
"Hee, hee, heeeee," giggled Clunk. He bent double, banging his forehead on the console.
Hal stared at him. "You metal-clad box of tricks! You were winding me up!"
Clunk looked at him for a moment, then spluttered.
"What the bloody hell were you playing at?" Hal waved at the console. "I could have killed myself pushing all those buttons!"
"N-not connected," gasped Clunk.
"WHAT?"
"Buttons not connected."
Hal stared at the console. "None of them?"
"Nothing but the light switch."
"You're lying! They did things when I pressed them!"
Clunk shook his head. "I'm controlling the ship with short-range infra-red."
Hal glared at him. "You picked a strange time to play a practical joke. Have you forgotten the damn battlecruiser?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Spacejock, but I couldn't help myself. It's not every day I get to play a trick on a human."
"You'll go too far, one day. Someone'll space you."
"Or stomp on my fingers," said Clunk dryly. He gestured at the console. "We're too close to the planet to hyperspace anyway."
Without warning, the lights flickered off.
"What was that?" demanded Hal in the sudden darkness.
"The battlecruiser must have got their fire computer working again," said Clunk. "We must be at the extreme range of their weapons."
"Where are they?"
A holochart appeared above the console, showing a cluster of stars.
Hal blinked. "How did you do that?"
"It's an add-on for your Navcom. I took the liberty of cracking the protection and enabling it."
"Neat," said Hal. "Can you alter the chess program while you're at it?"
"I really haven't got time for - oh, all right. What level do you want?"
"Easy."
"It's already set to that."
"Really easy?"
"It doesn't go any lower."
Hal snorted.
"The chart responds to voice commands," said Clunk. "Just speak to it as you would to the Navcom."
"Show me Seraph IV," said Hal. The chart zoomed in on a star system and rotated it until a small planet was centred in the flickering column of light. A blue square appeared, crawling away from it.
"That's us," said Clunk.
"Show me the bad guy."
Two red triangles appeared between the planet and the blue square. Hal stared at them in concern. "We're outnumbered!"
Clunk thumped his fist on the console and one of the red triangles vanished. "From the look of it they'll catch us in fifteen minutes."
Hal grimaced. "Can we hyperspace?"
"No. Still too close."
"Can we outrun them?"
"No."
"What are our chances in a fight?"
"We're unarmed and they've got enough weaponry to destroy a planet."
"If we can't run and we can't fight, what the hell can we do?"
"That's obvious. We surrender."
"I'm not giving up my ship." Hal frowned at the chart. "Hey, they're getting closer. I thought you said fifteen minutes?"
"They accelerated. Estimate contact in three minutes."
"Match their speed!"
The engine note rose, but the distance between the red and blue markers continued to narrow. The roar of the engines increased further, and the distance remained constant. Then it began to narrow again.
"They've increased speed beyond our safe maximum," said Clunk.
"What's our unsafe maximum?"
"This ship is unsafe at any speed." Clunk frowned at the chart. "I may have the answer. Calculate a slingshot round Seraph Prime. Tight as you can."
An arc of blue dots appeared on the chart, the midpoint brushing the star.
"Not that close." The curve flexed slightly. "Show me the earliest hyperspace point." The line of dot
s on the far side of the star grew longer, and a blue circle appeared. "Cut it finer." The circle moved back towards the star. "Plot the intercept point." A red dot appeared right in the centre of the blue circle.
Hal whistled. "Pretty tight, but we might just make it."
"No, they'll shoot us down first," said Clunk.
"Got any better ideas?"
Clunk paused. "There is one thing we could try."
"There is?"
"In my archives there are details of an early experiment which attempted to calculate the effect of mass on hyperspace paths. Allow me to quote: 'A ship on a perpendicular trajectory to a stellar body has a significant chance of surviving a hyperspace attempt, providing the terminal velocity of the ship matches or exceeds the mass of the star over the distance of the attempted jump.'"
"So what are you suggesting? Read that rubbish to the people aboard the cruiser until their eyes glaze over, and watch them fly into the nearest planet?"
Clunk frowned. "I was serious."
"Really? What did all that gumph mean then?"
"Watch the chart."
The arc of blue dots vanished, replaced with a straight line that extended from the front of the blue square and ended just short of the star.
"You've flipped," said Hal. "If we jump there we'll end up as space dust."
Clunk shook his head. "No, if we hyperspace there we might end up as space dust. The experiment wasn't conclusive but the theoretical outcome was fifty per cent."
"For or against?"
"Pardon?"
"Fifty per cent chance we make it, or that we fail?"
Clunk's mouth opened and closed slowly. "For," he said finally.
Hal watched the red triangle bearing down on them. "All right, do it."
"Yes, sir."
"Aren't you supposed to argue?"
"I'm a robot. I don't get scared."
The engines roared, and the blue square began to pull out a lead on the red triangle. Both were closing rapidly on the star, and Clunk's hands danced over the console as the distance narrowed. "I will have to power down non-essential items during the next phase."
"Like what?"
"Lighting, refrigeration, oxygen regeneration —"
Hal cut in. "Everything but the engines and whatever's left of the Navcom, right?"
"Correct," said Clunk. "I can leave the chart up."
"Thanks."
The emergency light winked out, leaving the flight deck lit by nothing but the ghostly glow of the holochart. Hal watched the blue square approaching the jump point, closely followed by the red triangle. As they neared the star, a series of numbers flashed up.
