The Alien Web (Masters of Space Book 2)

by Robert E. Vardeman

  He kicked out and tackled Lark. They went down in the centre of the corridor, the laser beam burning a millimetre-wide strip the entire length of his back. Kinsolving shrieked in agony as a second laser bored through his right shoulder and caused a tiny burn pit to form on the corridor floor.

  “It’s shooting at us!” Lark shouted.

  Ignoring the obvious, Kinsolving rolled and smashed hard into the bulkhead. The sound of his impact drew the robot’s attention. Another minute blue-white laser beam sought his flesh. But Kinsolving was already moving in the opposite direction. His thick, strong fingers closed around the hammer.

  He dived forward, narrowly avoiding the laser that sought to gut him. Hair on the side of his head burst into bright flames. But Kinsolving knew he had only one chance to disable the deadly robot.

  He swung the hammer, aiming it directly at the laser muzzle. Ceramics inside the robot cracked when he struck. The robot’s laser melted a portion of the hammer. Kinsolving swung again. And again and again until he panted from the exertion.

  The second or third blow had been sufficient, but the adrenaline pumping through his arteries refused to still and release him from the bloodlust he felt.

  “Barton, please.” He shoved Lark away and stood, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gusts. At his feet lay the silvered bettle of a robot, destroyed beyond recognition. By attacking its underside he had found the device’s most vulnerable spot.

  “I’m all right. All right,” he repeated. Pain lanced into the side of his head. When he reached up, his fingers touched smouldering hair. His back stung and his shoulder turned into molten agony. The laser beam had burned completely through the fleshy part of his shoulder.

  “You need to let the automedic work on you,” Lark said. Gentle fingers probed his wound, but he pushed her away.

  “There’ll be time later,” he said. “This one was trying to get into the engine room. Look.”

  Lark frowned and moved closer to examine the hole in the bulkhead that Kinsolving pointed out. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Another robot’s inside. This one was larger and more powerful, unless I miss my guess. But in the wrong place, even a tiny robot can destroy the ship.”

  “The stardrive,” Lark said. “We haven’t gotten rid of all…these things?” She nudged the fallen robot with the toe of her spun-gold dancing slipper.

  “I don’t think so.” Kinsolving ran his fingers along the strip of sealant between hatch and bulkhead. Only the single needle-sized hole betrayed forced entry into the engine room.

  Kinsolving opened a small panel and studied the keypad. “It opens only with an access code,” he said in disgust. “Again, a way of keeping the owner from doing too much damage.”

  He smiled slowly. “There has to be a standard way of opening the engine room, though, when the ship’s being serviced. It wouldn’t be in the computer banks. Or a uniform code for all ships of this class.” He reached into the panel and ran his fingers along the top of the recessed box.

  “Victory,” he said. “The code’s imprinted just above the keypad.” He tapped in the three numbers he traced out. The engine-room door slid back, revealing a darkened cavern.

  Kinsolving held Lark back. “The floor. See? Those are Rani’s footprints in the fluid.”

  “Why should there be anything on the floor?”

  “A cooling valve has been opened — or damaged,” he said, sniffing delicately at the strong odour. “That might be why the power shut down. The central coil began to overheat when the coolant pressure decreased. It lost superconductivity and shut down the entire ship’s power.”

  “But Rani?”

  Kinsolving slipped into the room, peering through the darkness. The faint light from the corridor lit only a narrow cone in front of him. The woman’s damp footprints led to his right. Kinsolving worked along the wall, his every sense straining.

  He cried out when he stumbled over something on the floor. He fell heavily.

  “Bart, what happened?” demanded Lark.

  “I’ve found Rani,” he answered. In the darkness he reached out and touched the woman. She did not stir. He found her throat and pressed a fingertip into the carotid artery.

  He found only cooling flesh and no pulse — and his finger came away sticky and damp with blood. Rani had been killed.

  From the bowels of the engine room came a low-frequency power hum and the sound of a drill boring through stainless-steel tubing. The killer robot continued its work.

  Unless Kinsolving could find and stop it, both he and Lark would end up like Rani duLong.

  CHAPTER II

  Cameron waited patiently in the anteroom, studying himself critically in one of the shining windows looking out over Gamma Tertius 4. He moved slightly to get the light at the proper angle, forming a completely silvered mirror. He patted a lock of sandy hair into place, considered a colour change and immediately discarded the idea. He turned from side to side to show off the expensive finery he wore, conscious of the secretaries watching behind him.

  Did they envy him his position and power? Cameron doubted it. Their own power structures were vast and ran throughout Interstellar Materials. They might envy him his taste in clothing. The royal purple silk doublet with the flaring, fluted sleeves was offset just the proper touch by the real pearl buttons at wrist and throat. He wore a black velvet cape, weighted at the bottom with small lead pellets to make it hang straight from his broad shoulders. The tight patterned yellow-and-chartreuse trousers might be an angstrom too much, he knew, but what the hell? If he could not make his own personal fashion statement, who in this sedate dreary company would?

  Let those watching envy him his good taste in clothing. Or let them fear him.

  Cameron smiled into the mirrored surface. Yes, let them fear him. That pleased him most of all.

  A slight shift in position returned the lights of the city to his view. The two-hundred-story tower dominated the crater in which the city had been built. Terraforming had given a dome of atmosphere to the city — but it did not extend to this altitude. On the other side of the cool glass lay only the vacuum of space.

  Cameron touched a small silver cylinder at his belt. A simple command and the robot would burrow directly through the glass. The explosive decompression would kill all those within the room. Did any know the power he held so close? Cameron thought that they did. They knew and they feared.

  How could a man find a better job than the one he held at IM?

  “Mr. Cameron, the chairman will see you now,” announced the secretary Cameron had singled out as the one wielding the most power in this tight little group. “You’ll have to leave your weapons with me.”

  Cameron sneered slightly. Not too much, he decided. Just enough to show contempt and yet remain genteel.

  The secretary blinked, nonplussed. He said to Cameron, “You can’t go in until you’ve removed your weapons.”

  “Which ones?” asked Cameron, suddenly alert. He had noted the scanning when he entered the outer office, but how accurate it had been remained a question of some importance. Although IM could afford the finest in detection equipment to protect Hamilton Fremont, those in charge seldom extended themselves. Not in the manner Cameron would, had he attained such an exalted position.

  “Chairman Fremont is waiting, sir,” said the secretary. “Do you wish to anger him with refusal of a standard and reasonable request?”

  “Of course not,” said Cameron. He pulled out a half dozen different robot devices, most intelligent, most capable of independent action once programmed for a mission. Cameron retained another dozen implements of varying degrees of sophistication.

  “Is that all, sir?” asked the secretary. Several of the others exchanged glances, anticipating the confrontation.

  “One more,” said Cameron, smiling broadly.

  “If you enter the room with any more, sir, you won’t like the result,” warned the man.

  “Not to worry, not to w
orry,” Cameron said airily. He swung about, the velvet cape swirling dramatically. He walked toward the door, his stride long and certain. Cameron never hesitated as he passed through the door and into the boardroom where Fremont and the others waited for him. The retained implements of death passed through whatever scanners were trained on him. He could kill anyone within the room in less than a second.

  The feeling of power buoyed him. How fragile a thing life was, and he held the assembled board of director’s lives in his hand. A simple touch on an activator would send out a dazzling array of robotic death no one could stop.

  Cameron bowed elegantly in Maria Villalobos’ direction. The woman sat at the far end of the oval conference table, her dark complexion even darker today with barely restrained anger. Of those in the room, Cameron admired her most. She never let petty things like conscience stand in her way.

  For the others, Cameron held varying degrees of contempt. Metchnikoff had once been a contender for the ultimate power at Interstellar Materials Corporation. No longer. The money-man, the cautious accountant, Liu, had replaced him. And for Kenneth Humbolt, Cameron did not even attempt to hide his ridicule.

  His quick eyes assessed the situation. The directors’ emotions ranged from Villalobos and angry to Humbolt and terrified. Cameron turned to Hamilton Fremont, chairman and chief executive officer of IM.

  Fremont’s frail hands reached out and touched the table in front of him. Watery eyes tried to focus and failed. At Fremont’s side stood a statuesque nurse. Cameron’s interest in her extended far beyond the sexual, though she was physically beautiful. She controlled the automedic that prolonged Fremont’s life — and she prepared the drugs that brought the doddering fool back to the realm of the living.

  She bent over and pressed an injector into the side of Fremont’s throat. Veins pulsed and the peculiar transparency of his skin vanished as the blood flow improved. A hint of steel returned to the old man’s bearing. He did not move or speak but became the centre of attention, like a consummate actor making a stage entrance.

  “She cannot be bought with anything you can offer,” said Fremont.

  “Sir?” Cameron said, startled.

  “Poisoning me through Mella’s treachery is not possible.”

  “I am sure that you are adequately protected, sir.” Cameron did not like the way this session was progressing.

  “Further, eight items you brought into this room violate my dictum against weapons and have been rendered useless. The other four I allow you to keep as a token of admiration for your audacity.”

  Fremont coughed. His nurse gave him another injection. She looked up, her hot, dark eyes burning with…what? Cameron could not tell. He would have to inquire of this Mella and see what her weaknesses were, what vices would bind her securely to his will. Control over Fremont would place him in a very favourable position with the other directors, especially Villalobos.

  “I admire audacity,” Fremont rambled on. “Once. Disobey my direct order again and you shall be terminated. Is that clear, Cameron?”

  “Sir, I meant nothing — ”

  “Shut up. I know what you meant to do. Do you think you are the first — or the brightest or most talented — to enter this room? Hardly.” Fremont spat out a thick, green gob. Mella obediently wiped it off the table and disposed of the tissue through a port on the back of the automedic.

  “Sir, time is of the utmost importance. Can we get on with this?” Villalobos looked as though she had swallowed something that disagreed with her.

  “Very well, Maria. I concur with your appraisal of this sorry situation. Mr. Humbolt has botched everything terribly and order must be restored. Secrecy must be protected. The Plan must advance.”

  Cameron noted the difference in the way Fremont referred to the two directors. A quick glance across the table at Humbolt confirmed it. The director stared straight ahead, a nervous tic deforming his cheek.

  “Report, Cameron. Tell us how you allowed a major breach in our security to occur,” said Fremont. Nothing of the frail, feeble man remained. Whatever drug Mella had sent coursing through his ancient veins worked miracles.

  “I am not in charge of security, Chairman Fremont,” Cameron said. “I only tend to matters assigned me by Director Villalobos.”

  “This supervisor, this Barton Kinsolving, comes to Gamma Tertius from a mining planet and invades our most highly protected computer files. He discovers the broad outline of the Plan, if not specifics. He was your special project, was he not?”

  Cameron shot Humbolt a look of pure hatred. Humbolt had tried to push the blame off onto Cameron’s shoulders for the way he had handled Kinsolving on Deepdig.

  “Director Humbolt received some small cooperation on my part,” said Cameron. “I arranged for Kinsolving to be sent to the Bizzies’ prison world. He proved cleverer than anticipated and became the first convict to ever escape.”

  “Kinsolving is human, dammit. Why did you think to trust the Bizarres in this matter? Kinsolving should have been removed permanently, not shipped off to some planet where he could simply walk away.”

  “We are still looking into the method of his escape,” said Cameron. “He had aid, of that we are sure. He came to GT4 in the company of Lark Versalles.”

  “You let them escape,” accused Humbolt. “No matter what happened on Deepdig, you, Cameron, you let them escape Gamma Tertius.”

  “Not true,” snapped Cameron, irked at the way Humbolt fought to preserve his own position. The director ought to show more restraint. “The resources were not given me. I had no idea why Kinsolving was to be stopped.”

  “You have been briefed on the Stellar Death Plan since that time?” asked Fremont.

  “I have, sir. To the extent that Kinsolving has learned of the Plan, that is. The specifics have not been told to me, but all that Kinsolving knows I also know now.”

  Fremont said nothing. His eyes had turned into chips of flint To betray Interstellar Materials, Fremont or the Plan would be unwise — it would be suicidal.

  “This Kinsolving got off-planet. Explain, Cameron.”

  “I am sure that he has been destroyed, sir. I secretly placed small robotic devices aboard each of the ships in parking orbit. Any ship lifting from the planet without first obtaining a disarming code would find my robots…most deadly.”

  “The von Neumann shifted without authorization. Are you saying that it is definitely destroyed?” demanded Fremont.

  “Each ship contained two of my robots programmed to destroy the shift engines. Whoever is aboard the von Neumann will not exit into normal space.”

  “Sir,” spoke up Liu. “I have checked the registry on the ship. It belongs to Aron duLong, CEO of TerraComp.”

  “Damn,” muttered Fremont. “We kill off those in our own rank instead of the Bizzies.”

  “Explaining to duLong how his sister came to die after leaving GT4 might be a problem,” said Humbolt.

  “The hell it will be,” snapped Fremont. “Accidents happen in hyperspace. Even to the families of well-placed Earthmen. What involvement does TerraComp have in the Plan?”

  “Very little, sir,” spoke up Liu. “A few of their lower-echelon executives have provided valuable service to us, mostly supplying computer security codes for other companies, but we have concentrated our major effort on the larger computer-manufacturing firms.”

  “There’s some consolation in that,” said Fremont. “But we must be assured that the damned ship is destroyed and all aboard will never report to duLong or anyone else who might ask embarrassing questions. Mr. Cameron?”

  The gaudily dressed man shrugged. “My robots will not fail. They cannot. The von Neumann will not exit from hyperspace. Was Kinsolving aboard, also?”

  “We can assume that he was,” said Liu. “Humbolt ordered the Landing Authority to laser the shuttle. We have recovered some small pieces but have been unable to determine how many were aboard, much less their identities.”

  “A pity,” Cameron murmu
red insincerely.

  “Your part in Kinsolving’s escape has not been ignored, Cameron,” said Villalobos. “You failed to prevent him from leaving the planet. He and this space-brained bit of party fluff Lark Versalles slipped out from under your thumb much too easily.”

  Cameron said nothing. He had been remiss and might now have to pay dearly for it.

  “She’s the daughter of a colleague,” said Fremont. “I’ve met her only a few times, but her father was once a good friend. How did she come to get involved with Kinsolving?”

  “Unknown,” said Villalobos.

  “Too much surrounding Kinsolving’s escapade is unknown. I want all the details, Cameron. You will work directly for me until this matter is resolved.”

  “What else do you require, Chairman?”

  “Everything. Kinsolving’s background is in the company data banks but flagged with a secrecy code to prevent further prying. Humbolt will give you the code. Find the location of the Bizarre prison world and discover how Kinsolving became the first to escape — check that claim, also. I doubt the Bizzies are that efficient.”

  “What else, sir?”

  “Everything else, dammit! Make certain that Kinsolving did not pass along the information about the brain-burner devices. Go to Web, if necessary, to ensure that the Plan proceeds there. If we can wipe out the bugs on schedule, we stand to make great inroads into their trading empire.”

  Fremont’s colour changed radically. He turned white, then translucent. His hands shook and he appeared to wobble and fade. Mella moved quickly to his side and administered another injection.

  “The Plan must be served. See to it, Cameron,” Fremont ordered.

  “As you wish, sir.” Cameron bowed slightly in Fremont’s direction, then deeper in Villalobos’. He totally ignored the others at the large conference table. The woman shot him a fierce look hot enough to sublimate carbon.