by Simon Haynes
"No, that's the robot." Hal hesitated. "Listen, you remember those apes on that planet?"
"The planet we never visited?"
"That's the one. Well, we've got one on board."
"What?"
"It's just a little one," said Hal hastily. "It's in the rec room. I, er, called it Lucy."
Clunk's mouth set in a firm line. "Half a day, I was gone. Just half a day."
"Someone is coming up the ramp," said the Navcom suddenly.
Hal cursed. "I bet it's the law. They've come to arrest Clunk for those broken windows."
"They're not carrying ID," said the Navcom.
"Quarantine inspection? Clunk, they've got wind of Lucy!"
The robot sniffed. "I'm not surprised."
Hal strode into the airlock and peered through the porthole. Outside, a slender, fair-haired woman was standing on the platform, holding a silver briefcase in one hand and a small bag in the other. Hal studied her face - cool grey eyes beneath dark, straight eyebrows. "Looks like a lawyer," he muttered. "It's got to be those windows." After a moment's indecision he opened the outer door.
As soon as the gap was big enough, the woman entered the airlock. "Mr Spacejock, oh please say you'll help me."
Caught by surprise, Hal could only stare. "H-huh?"
"I missed my flight and the men at the spaceport said you'd help me."
Hal gazed into her wide grey eyes. "Did they really?"
"I'm Sonya. Sonya Smith. They told me you were going to Ackexa, and Canessa is on the way, and …" Sonya gripped Hal's arm. "Oh, do say you'll help! I'll pay double the going rate!"
"Well, we don't carry passengers as a rule."
"Couldn't you make an exception?" Sonya put her head to one side. "Just for me? Please?"
Hal grinned. "Just for you."
"Oh, thank you!" Sonya hugged him. "I really appreciate it. You've saved my life."
"You'd better come in," mumbled Hal, who'd turned a deep shade of red. He led her into the flight deck, where Clunk was still waiting near the lift. "This is my robot, Clunk. Clunk, this is Sonya Smith."
Sonya stared, her face pale. "Your robot?"
"Ms Smith," said Clunk, sparing her a brief nod. He glanced at Hal. "We're ready to depart, Mr Spacejock. We should be landing on Ackexa in three hours."
"Ah yes, the cargo. Look, there's been a slight change of plan. I thought we could take Ms Smith to Canessa first."
"Maybe on the way back. Right now we're going to Ackexa."
"No! I can't go to Ackexa!" Sonya lowered her voice. "I don't have a permit."
"You have an Outsider accent," said Clunk. "Why would you need a permit?"
"Leave it, Clunk," said Hal. "We're going to Canessa."
"Mr Spacejock, I urge you to reconsider." Clunk spread his hands. "For a start, we're not authorised to carry passengers. And Canessa is an uninhabited planet: leaving this woman there would be insane. Moreover, we're facing a fixed deadline and …"
Hal put his arm round the robot's shoulders. "Clunk, let's not argue. The lady asked nicely, and it'll only take us, what, an hour or so extra?"
"Eight hours minimum. It's in the opposite direction, Mr Spacejock."
"So? We'll make it."
"But why does she want to go to Canessa?"
"I'm investigating a vanished civilisation," said Sonya. "I'm a historian, you see."
"Historian?" Hal stared at her. "But, er —"
"Oh, you think I should be older, right?" Sonya laughed. "Everyone thinks historians have to be relics themselves."
"Har har," snorted Hal. "Relics, that's a good one."
Clunk rolled his eyes.
"What about my luggage?" Sonya looked Clunk up and down. "You don't look very strong. Can you carry things?"
Clunk took a step towards her, and Hal quickly got between them. "She's a paying customer, Clunk," he hissed. "Humour her, okay?" He turned to Sonya. "Did you say luggage?"
"I have six crates outside."
"Six!"
"Camping gear, scientific equipment … Believe me, I'm travelling light."
Clunk frowned at her. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"I've been studying an ancient civilisation, and I think Canessa may be their long-lost homeworld. My plan is to land there and investigate one or two promising sites."
"Wouldn't it be better to survey them from the air?"
"In this case, no. The planet's completely overgrown."
Hal laughed. "Yeah Clunk, it's overgrown. Can't see anything from the air."
"So you're just going to wander around until you stub your toe on a fossil?" asked the robot.
"Don't be silly. Once I've set up the equipment, it should be able to detect the city."
"What sort of equipment?" asked Clunk. "If the city's made of stone, you won't know it's there until you sit on it. If it's wooden, all you'll find is compost."
Sonya turned to Hal. "Just think, I wasted all those years studying for this trip and all I needed was five minutes in a junk shop."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your robot seems to know more about my field than I do."
"Clunk knows everything." Hal took Sonya's briefcase and handed it to Clunk. "Take this to the passenger cabin."
"Are you sure about that? The floor is still covered with little bits of gold plastic."
"Ah, you mean the spare parts I was knocking up for the generator."
"Spare parts have safety pins taped to the back?"
"Just get the cabin ready and load the cargo. Okay?"
"Yes master, anything you say." Clunk snapped a salute, turned and stalked into the lift.
"Those old models always did have defective personalities," said Sonya loudly.
"He's all right, he's just brassed off. I lent him to the museum for an exhibition and someone pinched him."
"I find that hard to believe. Who'd steal a wreck like that?"
"He'd been sold to a junk shop, and by the time I tracked him down he was in pieces. You should have seen it … the owner tried to fob me off, so I had to smack him one." Hal brandished his fist. "Pow! Right in the kisser."
Sonya winced. "But you got Clunk back?"
"No, they'd already used his parts in another robot. So I threatened to break their arms unless they fixed him."
"Were there many of them?"
"At least four."
"Four men!"
"No, four arms." Hal gestured at himself. "Two men, two arms each."
"Clunk must be valuable to you, Mr Spacejock. You went to a lot of trouble to save him."
"Please, call me Hal."
Sonya smiled. "I'll do that, Hal."
The console speakers crackled. "Ground facilities have now been disconnected. What are your instructions?"
"Carry on," said Hal, without taking his eyes off Sonya.
"Carry on with what?" asked the Navcom.
"Get ready to leave."
"Please clarify."
Hal flashed a strained smile at Sonya. "Excuse me a moment, would you?" He crossed to the console and leant in close. "Stop messing around," he hissed. "You know exactly what to do."
"So you won't be navigating the uncharted reaches of the screensaver, then?" asked the Navcom loudly.
"I think you mean the flight simulator. And this time I'll leave it in your capable hands."
"Are you certain? Your flying might prove more entertaining for our passenger. Do you remember that time on Forg, when you had to crash-land in a rubbish tip to save the ship? Or the time —"
Hal gripped the microphone. "One more word out of you and I'll tear this off and ram it up your user port. Got it?" He rolled his eyes at Sonya. "Appliances, eh? Give them half a brain …"
Sonya glanced at her watch. "I don't mean to trouble you, but are we leaving soon?"
"We'll be under way as soon as Clunk's loaded that luggage of yours."
"He won't damage it, will he?"
"Clunk's good at his job. I trained him
myself."
There was a squawk from the console, quickly silenced by Hal's warning glance.
"I really must get on with my research," said Sonya. "Do you think my cabin is ready?"
"Oh, sure. Let me show you down."
"I know where it is."
Hal looked surprised. "You do?"
"Last door on the right, lower deck passageway?"
"How did you know that?"
"You do a lot of flying in my line of work," said Sonya smoothly. "I've travelled on everything from a hoverbike to a megafreighter."
"Call if you need me," said Hal, as Sonya entered the lift. "I'll be supervising the Navcom. Getting the ship ready, that kind of thing."
"Until later," said Sonya, as the doors closed.
*
Sonya studied her shoes as the Volante's lift dropped towards the lower deck. She'd almost blown her cover in the first five minutes, which didn't bode well for the next few hours. And the robot! She'd have words with Rex about that. So much for getting it out of the way … all he'd done was make the wretched thing even more suspicious. Hal was all right, though. Sonya grinned. Just how she liked them - handsome, well built and dumb.
The lift doors opened and she stepped into the Volante's lower deck passageway. The lights were low, and she noted the doors on either side of the carpeted hallway: Rec room, toilets, galley, captain's quarters and Clunk's cabin (Keep Out). Sonya's eyes narrowed. What was the robot doing with a room to itself? What could it possibly keep in there? She hesitated, and was just reaching for the controls when she saw the glossy black dome of a security camera at the end of the passage, fixed above the cargo hold door. Damn computer had eyes everywhere.
Sonya made a show of reading the sign, then tutted loudly and continued up the corridor to the passenger cabin. The door opened smartly as she palmed the control panel, and inside she found a fold-down desk, a narrow bed and a washbasin. The briefcase was lying on the bed, and although she checked it carefully she could see no evidence of tampering.
Sonya sat down. Several hours to Canessa, the robot had said. Thank goodness the surly hunk of tin hadn't insisted on Ackexa - without any ID, she'd never have got back into Union space. Her stomach growled, and she wondered whether Spacejock would rustle up a meal before bed.
*
While Sonya was inspecting her cabin, Clunk was inspecting her cargo. He'd got the six huge crates aboard with Lee's help, and the wooden boxes were now standing in a line against the bulkhead. He'd checked and resealed most of them, and so far had found nothing unusual - a tent, cooking equipment, medical supplies, a personal stereo and some music chips. He'd examined one or two of the chips, but lacked an inbuilt player to test them. In any case, they were professionally produced and therefore unlikely to contain anything but the songs on the garish labels.
Clunk hated to admit it, but Sonya appeared to be genuine. Even her briefcase computer had a cutesy smiley face sticker on it, which was hardly the seal of a desperate criminal.
With a creak of tortured nails, the front came off the last crate. Clunk put it aside with the crowbar and peered inside. It was packed with tinned food, enough to last a month. He reached for a tin, to see whether it contained … what, exactly? He sighed and withdrew his hand, realising he was taking things too far.
"Should you be doing this?" asked Lee.
"It's my duty to check for contraband. Mr Spacejock is responsible for all goods carried aboard this vessel, and that Farquhar in customs would be delighted if he could catch us out." Clunk replaced the lid and pounded the nails in with his fist. There was nothing incriminating about the crates, so all he had to go on were his misgivings. Could that be his programming? An enhanced loyalty to Hal which made him suspicious of everyone else? He dropped the crowbar over a crossbeam and picked up a bundle of strapping. "Take the other end."
A few minutes later, the crates were secure. Clunk went to the inner door and raised a hand to the controls. Then he realised Lee was right behind. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I thought I'd go to the flight deck."
"Think again." Clunk gestured at the hold. "I want this floor so clean I can see my face in it."
"But —"
"You're not getting within a mile of the flight deck after your efforts with the AutoChef. Not until you prove yourself in other areas. Understood?"
Lee nodded reluctantly.
"So, grab a rag and get polishing."
*
"Now that's what I call a passenger," said Hal to himself. The indicator above the lift switched to Lower Deck and he pictured Sonya striding along the passageway to her cabin. "She knows her ships. I like that."
He pictured Sonya entering the small cabin, opening her luggage, perhaps changing into something more comfortable. Then he pictured …
The lift doors opened and Clunk entered the flight deck, his fans whizzing as they cooled him down.
"What got you all steamed up?"
"I was loading all that cargo."
"You should've asked Lee to give you a hand."
Clunk snorted. "Like the hand he gave you with the AutoChef?"
"Yeah, er … thanks for putting it back together."
"It was easy. But then I'm not a customer service clerk with delusions of grandeur." Clunk turned to the console. "Navcom, please obtain clearance and initiate departure."
The ship's engines burst into life and the flight deck throbbed as they wound up to launch speed.
Hal listened to the familiar sounds, but his mind was busy with more pressing matters. "Clunk, what am I going to wear for dinner?"
"Dinner?"
"Passengers always dine with the captain. It's traditional."
"Never mind clothes, what are you going to eat?"
"Oh no, the AutoChef!" Hal groaned. "I can't feed her from that thing. It'll poison her."
Clunk turned away, hiding a smile. "Navcom, take her up."
With a gut-wrenching roar, the Volante took off from the Ullimo spaceport and thrust into the night sky.
Chapter 21
Later that evening, the Volante was in deep space, approaching the planet's designated hyperspace point. Clunk was at the console, making small adjustments to their course. He'd just finished when the lift doors opened behind him. "Good evening, Mr Spacejock. I'm happy to report —" Clunk broke off and sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"
"Smell?"
Clunk turned round to look at him. "Oh my goodness."
"What's wrong?"
"You … er … um …" Lost for words, Clunk could only gesture.
Hal looked down at himself. He was wearing a velvet suit with a white ruff and a pair of trousers so tight they could have been sprayed on. His hair had been liberally oiled, parted in the middle and slicked down, as if he'd shoved his head under a waterfall. He'd even tidied his eyebrows, which gave his face a slightly quizzical look. Clunk stared at the chunky gold chain, the fob watch and the gleaming gold shoes, shaking his head sadly.
"What is it?" demanded Hal.
"I'm not sure. Dementia? Spring fever?"
"Huh?" Hal smoothed a stubborn lick of hair. "You think I just dressed up because we have a passenger, eh?"
Clunk nodded.
"Well, maybe I did. I'm the captain, right? I have to mingle with the passengers, entertain them."
"You'll do that all right," murmured Clunk, staring at the ruff in disbelief. "Where did you —"
"It's style," sniffed Hal. "You wouldn't understand."
"On the contrary, I have extensive training in haute couture." Clunk paused. "Look Mr Spacejock, that woman's done nothing but butter you up since she came aboard. It's so obviously false it makes me want to —" His fingers creaked as he clenched his fists.
"Give it away! If I didn't know you better I'd say you were jealous!"
"I'm what?" Clunk stared at him. "Mr Spacejock, she's putting on an act. I don't know why, but she's up to something."
"All she cares about is this ancien
t civilisation."
"What are they called?"
"Huh?"
"These people - what were they known as? Were they space-farers? Did they vanish without trace? Did they have fire? Computers? Literature?"
The gold chain rattled as Hal put his hands up. "Whoa, Clunk. Too many questions."
"Not enough answers, you mean," muttered the robot.
Just then the lift pinged.
"Ah, Sonya! Come in, come in!" cried Hal, as the doors opened. "We're just preparing for hyperspace."
Sonya stopped. "Oh brother. Er … you look smart."
"Come and look at the controls," said Hal. "I'll show you how the ship works."
Clunk folded his arms. "Now this I have to see."
"I do hope I won't be in the way," said Sonya as she approached the console.
"Of course not," said Hal. "Come on."
"Ooh, what a lot of lights and things!" Sonya smiled at Hal. "Do you really know what they all do?"
"Red, red, blue," said Clunk, smothering a grin.
Hal flushed. "The manemol flange on the generator needs adjusting, Clunk. Attend to it at once."
"That's going to take some adjustment," said the robot. "The manemol flange is supposed to be on the hyperdrive."
"Just fix it. And I'd appreciate a bit less of the lip."
As the lift doors swept to, Hal turned back to Sonya. "I trust your accommodation is up to scratch?"
"Oh yes, very comfortable."
"Speaking of comfort, would you dine with me?"
Suddenly Hal felt the warmth of Sonya's hand on his arm. "I'd be honoured."
He beamed. "Magic! I'll get Clunk to rustle something up."
Sonya withdrew her hand. "Ah. The robot."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I feel a little uneasy around him. I don't think he likes me."
"It's not that. He's just a bit suspicious of you." Hal stared into Sonya's clear grey eyes. For a second they appeared calculating, cold. Then just as quickly, they softened again.
"Suspicious? Of a relic like me?"
Hal laughed. "You're lucky. He fusses over me and that's far worse."
*
Clunk was still in the lift with one ear pressed to the door. Hal's voice carried to him clearly through the metal, and the laughter his comments provoked was like a hot soldering iron to the eye. Clunk straightened up slowly, conflicting emotions visible in his face as he weighed his strong sense of loyalty against the desire to beat some sense into that stupid, self-centred, egotistical HUMAN.
