A Toaster on Mars

by Darrell Pitt

  ‘Jane. We’ll get the rest of your statement later.’

  Astrid smiled. ‘I look forward to it.’

  29

  ‘It’s gone,’ Sam Feldspar said.

  The head of GADO stared at the place where the phase suit had been sitting just a few hours earlier. It had been a rather nice-looking suit. Possibly rather difficult to dry-clean with all that hardware, and the colours were a tad harsh on the eye—the blue and orange clashed—and the styling was awful.

  Still, it was one of the most incredible devices ever constructed.

  And now it was gone.

  Feldspar was standing in GADO’s most secure vault—or it had been, until someone had broken in by tunnelling under it. Now, there was a hole in the floor. Through it, he could see a passage and mining equipment.

  In the vault were the two PBI agents who had summoned him here. They had surrendered themselves to security, demanding to see him. Feldspar had reviewed their personnel files on the way. They were both top agents. Their last assignment had been to track down the PBI’s most wanted man—Bartholomew Badde.

  So why had they broken into GADO?

  ‘What you need to understand,’ Blake Carter said, ‘is that this whole thing has been a diversion.’

  Krodo turned to Astrid. ‘Is the mutant cat behind this, Jane?’

  Blake wasn’t sure why Astrid was being called Jane, or how a mutant cat came into it, but there was no time for that now. Lisa was being held just a short distance away. She had to be saved and Badde captured.

  ‘This whole day has been a diversion,’ Blake said. ‘Bartholomew Badde’s ransom demand has had the PBI chasing its tail. At the same time, Nicki and I, and my ex-wife Astrid, have been on a wild goose chase to steal the Maria virus—’

  Feldspar stabbed a finger at them. ‘So you admit you broke into GADO,’ he said. ‘And you stole Maria.’

  ‘Our daughter’s being held hostage by Badde,’ Blake explained. ‘To save her I’d break into hell.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Nicki said, ‘he would.’

  Smelk frowned. ‘But if you’re here to steal Maria, how is it that the phase suit—’

  ‘Maria was a diversion!’ Blake said. ‘Badde isn’t a terrorist. He’s a thief! His real plan has always been to steal the phase suit.’

  ‘With the phase suit he’d be unstoppable,’ Nicki agreed.

  ‘So why did Badde get you involved?’ Feldspar asked.

  Blake had been wondering that himself. He scratched his chin. ‘Maybe he knew I could catch him. Badde knew he’d be safe if he kept me busy, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone. He sent me on this quest to steal the Maria virus while he implemented the final step of his plan to steal the suit.’

  ‘So where is Badde now?’

  ‘At the other end of this tunnel. My daughter was able to get a message to me—’

  ‘Is she all right?’ Astrid asked.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Blake said, ‘for now. But we’ve got to get moving if we stand any chance of saving her.’

  ‘The only place you’re going is jail,’ Feldspar said. ‘You’ve committed a global offence in breaking into GADO.’

  ‘Arresting us won’t achieve anything,’ Nicki said.

  ‘It’s Badde you want,’ Blake added. ‘And how do you think it’s going to look if you allow an evil genius to escape and a young girl to—’

  Blake’s voice caught. He didn’t know how he’d live if anything happened to Lisa.

  ‘My husband’s right,’ Astrid said, moving to his side. ‘You can arrest us later, but for now we need to save her.’

  Feldspar clenched his jaw. Blake sounded on the level. Arresting a PBI agent while allowing a criminal mastermind to escape would look bad. And if anything happened to the girl…

  ‘I want the Pye building surrounded,’ Feldspar said to Smelk. ‘Immediately.’

  ‘We need to get Lisa out,’ Blake said.

  ‘You’re not going alone,’ Feldspar said. ‘Krodo, I want you to go with Blake and his robot.’

  ‘She’s not a robot,’ Blake said. ‘She’s a cyborg.’

  ‘Noted. Let’s move.’

  ‘One last thing,’ Blake added. ‘We won’t be able to grab Badde if he uses the suit. Does it have any weaknesses?’

  Feldspar nodded. ‘It can phase through any solid matter, but the tech-heads were never able to stabilise its hydrogen mix.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘It fails completely in water.’

  Blake wasn’t sure how that was going to help, but he filed away the information.

  ‘I’m going with you,’ Astrid said.

  Blake shook his head. ‘We’re trained for this and you’re not,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to trust me.’

  ‘I do.’ She gripped his arm. ‘Get our daughter back.’

  Blake followed Nicki and Krodo down the hole, dropping onto the roof of a truck below. The tunnel looked like it had been evacuated without warning. Trucks sat around with doors open and engines still running. The conveyor belt was off, but it still had rock and dirt on it.

  Blake squeezed behind the wheel and they started up the tunnel.

  ‘Thanks,’ Nicki said, after a moment.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Recognising that I’m not just a robot.’

  Blake didn’t reply.

  Nicki scanned the cabin interior with her datapad. ‘I’m picking up Xebian DNA,’ she said. ‘I think Xebians were the machine operators.’

  ‘They’ll do anything for money,’ Krodo said. ‘I knew one that sold his mother on gBay so she could work in a salt mine on Maboo.’

  ‘The Xebians must have left straight after the robbery,’ Blake said. ‘Maybe Badde too.’

  Badde must have had an escape plan, he thought. And a backup to the escape plan.

  But Blake wasn’t concerned about catching Badde. He just wanted Lisa back.

  Reaching the Pye building, they climbed from the truck. Where to now? If Badde was gone, he might have taken Lisa with him. Getting offworld wouldn’t be so easy, but it could be done.

  Would he have killed Lisa? Badde had indiscriminately murdered people over the years. Innocent lives meant nothing to him. But Lisa had value as a hostage. Badde was smart enough to keep her as an asset—until he decided he didn’t need her anymore.

  ‘Where are they?’ Blake growled.

  ‘I can tell you,’ a voice said from above.

  ‘Who are you?’ Krodo asked, blinking.

  ‘I am a Pantron 9001 Quadragillion Computational Hydrogian Accelerator,’ the voice said. ‘But you can call me Panty.’

  ‘It’s the building’s AI,’ Nicki said.

  ‘So you know where Badde and Lisa went?’ Blake asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Panty replied.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Oh, well, nowhere really. He’s only now leaving the building through the front entrance on the 900th level.’

  ‘And he has Lisa?’ Blake said. ‘And she’s alive?’

  ‘Yes and yes.’

  ‘Sprot!’ Blake said as they raced to the elevators. ‘We need a picture of Badde.’

  ‘I can supply one,’ Panty offered. ‘But while we’re at it, I want to make it perfectly clear I never supported his evil deeds. In fact—’

  ‘Just give us the pictures!’

  A whirring sound emanated from a chute near the elevator and half a dozen pictures slid into a recess.

  ‘So this is him,’ Blake said.

  Finally he was staring into the face of the person responsible for his partner’s death on Venus. This man had killed Bailey Jones, and he looked so remarkably average.

  Blake handed a picture to Krodo. ‘Go back to GADO and have this image distributed to law-enforcement agents worldwide,’ he said. ‘And I want this whole area shut down tighter than a drum. This time, Badde’s not getting away.’

  30

  After they’d left the Pye building, Blake and Nicki found themselves on the 900th level
of the city. Blinking, Blake realised he could see patches of sky from here. It was mid-morning. Peering between a maze of buildings and walkways, he saw space elevators journeying to and from satellites in geostationary orbit, and sky billboards floating miles above the Earth. And the sky. Blue sky.

  He swallowed, taking a step back.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Nicki asked.

  ‘It’s these upper levels,’ he said. ‘Always comes as a bit of a shock.’

  He turned his attention to the city around him. Cars flew in all directions, while crowds of people swarmed the footpaths.

  His eyes snagged on a shopping centre opposite—Zen Shoppingtown.

  ‘Badde likes to hide out in the open,’ he said, pointing.

  ‘Nothing beats a crowd,’ Nicki agreed.

  They pushed their way towards Zen Shoppingtown. The circular atrium was ten stories high with walkways and elevators crisscrossing in all directions. Advertisements trailed up and down walls, people walked dogs, poodlephants and miniature horses. Children cried over spilt ice-creams.

  A neon sign flashed over the main entrance: Be calm.

  ‘Looks about as calming as a truck meeting a pigeon at ninety miles per hour,’ Blake muttered.

  ‘Where do we start?’ Nicki asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Opening a panel in her arm, Nicki produced a pair of sunglasses.

  ‘This is no time to worry about appearances,’ Blake said.

  ‘I’m not. These are hydronic spectacles. With these my visual processing can pick out a Tyborian flea in a Kartarian haystack.’

  Zeeb says:

  This is really quite a feat. Although fleas on Katar are the size of an Earth cow, the haystacks are almost half a mile tall.

  If you ever go to Katar, watch out for the dogs. You see, if the fleas are the size of cows, then you can appreciate that dogs are the size of small mountains. Some twenty-four visitors to Katar are killed every year because dogs step on them.

  Not the sort of holiday outcome most people are seeking.

  Nicki scanned the atrium.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ Blake asked.

  ‘There’s a very cute-looking coffee machine. And I like the way that hairdresser is styling that woman’s hair.’

  ‘Can you see Badde?’

  ‘No…no…Wait a moment. Yes. He’s entering that pet shop on the third floor! And he’s got Lisa!’

  They sprinted up escalators to Blett’s Pets, a huge shop that sold animals from throughout the galaxy.

  Blake pushed through cages and tanks to where the owner, a hairy man with six eyes and twelve arms, stood at the counter.

  ‘We’ve got a criminal on the loose,’ Blake said, flashing his credentials. ‘I need this shop shut down immediately.’

  ‘Utmost in gusto foreddem,’ the man said.

  Huh, Blake thought. Is this guy’s translator broken?

  ‘What are you saying?’ Blake asked.

  ‘Bladder cistiron gado maxy.’

  ‘I don’t care about your bladder. I—’

  Nicki joined him. ‘Uh, Blake.’

  ‘I can’t get this guy to—’

  ‘You’re talking to a Bykonian cat,’ she explained. ‘I just spoke to the owner. He hasn’t seen them.’

  Sprot!

  Blake climbed onto the counter and scanned the aisles. There were pets everywhere—cats, dogs, canaries, sloggers, carbuks and bakbaws. He even saw a zartukker.

  Zeeb says:

  Zartukkers look and act exactly like rocks and they come in all different shapes and sizes.

  Certainly they are not the most exciting pets. They do not move or make any sound. You can take them for a walk, but it really is like dragging a rock around. They last for a lifetime—several lifetimes, actually, if you look after them.

  You may have heard of the Great Zartukkers Scandal, where a man was caught trying to pass off rocks as zartukkers.

  Some people will try anything.

  Blake’s eyes focused on a man heading towards the back of the store. Dressed in a plaid suit, he was wearing a backpack and dragging a girl behind him—Lisa.

  She caught sight of Blake. ‘Dad!’ she yelled.

  ‘Lisa!’

  Badde hit her over the head with a gun and she went limp. Blake and Nicki gave chase as Badde fled through an exit with Lisa over his shoulder.

  Outside, Blake and Nicki found themselves in an empty corridor. Music came from behind a door. They pushed through into a party where people, shoulder to shoulder, were laughing and joking.

  What the sprot—

  Elvis elbowed past.

  ‘Uh,’ Blake said, confused, ‘didn’t we leave you on Elvisworld?’

  ‘I’m your fully automated Simulpal,’ Elvis said. ‘Will I sing you a song?’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I don’t know that song. Can you hum a few bars?’

  Nicki appeared. ‘He’s not real,’ she said. ‘He’s a robot copy of a celebrity.’

  Zeeb says:

  The League of Planets Charter makes it illegal for robots to resemble sentient beings. The Simulpal Company has gotten around this ruling by building copies of people who are already dead.

  Richard Nixon ambled past, sticking his head between Blake and Nicki.

  ‘I am not a crook,’ he said.

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I can take it. The tougher it gets, the cooler I get.’

  Blake peered across the crowd. ‘Nicki, is that Badde over there? Next to Hitler?’

  A stranger made his way over to them. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Gant Robust.’

  ‘What are you?’ Blake asked. ‘A singer? You’re too ugly to be an actor.’

  ‘I’m the owner of this shop.’

  ‘Oh.’ Blake produced his photo of Badde. ‘We’re looking for this man. He was carrying a girl over his shoulder.’

  ‘Who is he? Hugh Grant?’

  ‘No. He’s not a celebrity. I mean, he sort of is, but nobody knows him.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like much of a celebrity to me,’ Gant said. ‘We have a special on 1940s film stars right now. Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Peter Lorre—’

  ‘No, this man is an evil genius.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of those, too. Adolf Hitler. Idi Amin. Bob Googlestein—’

  ‘Forget it.’

  Blake and Nicki pushed through the Simulpals.

  ‘Why don’t you come up and see me some time?’ a woman cooed at Blake.

  A middle-aged man grabbed his arm. ‘All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.’

  ‘I know,’ Blake said. ‘Now let go of my shirt!’

  He spotted a man disappearing through a back door.

  Badde.

  They followed him into the crowded mall.

  Where is he? Blake thought.

  Suddenly, he spotted Badde crashing through a pair of double doors. A neon sign flashed above. Nicki yelled out something, but Blake didn’t hear her as he gave chase.

  31

  Blake had stepped into a bar. It was twenty degrees chillier in there than the mall and ultraviolet lights ran the length of the room. A dozen people, inhaling gas from bottles the size of beer cans, sat around circular tables. A few glanced up at Blake.

  Scanning the gloom, he couldn’t make out Badde or Lisa. He motioned to the barman behind the counter.

  ‘Haavve yoouu seeen tthiiss maann?’ Blake asked, flashing the photo. ‘I’mmm a PeeeBeeeIiiii aaageent.’

  That didn’t sound right, he thought.

  The barman, who at first glance had appeared to be a normal human, was now growing antennas while his nose turned into a xylophone.

  ‘Why are you growing antennas?’ Blake asked. ‘And what’s with the xylophone?’

  The barman looked at him strangely. ‘You should have—’

  Blake found it hard to focus beca
use the man’s mouth had now transformed into a watermelon, and his eyes were reshaping themselves into television screens. An old late-night film was showing. The Wizard of Oz. Tearing his attention away from the barman, Blake peered at the other patrons.

  How odd. They’ve all turned into walruses.

  A washing machine made its way across the bar towards him. It was singing a song.

  ‘I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee…’

  It was horribly out of tune. No wonder evil geniuses are taking over, Blake thought.

  The washing machine grabbed him by the arm. As Blake went to shrug it off, the appliance transformed into Salvador Dalí.

  ‘I don’t like your paintings,’ Blake slurred. ‘Clocks have no right to melt.’

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ Dalí said.

  ‘My mother was a purple cabbage,’ Blake explained. ‘My father was a unicorn on Acturus Three. So you’re not allowed to be Salvador Dalí. Surely you can understand that?’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  Blake shook his head in disbelief. ‘You can’t talk,’ he snapped. ‘You don’t even know if you’re a washing machine or a surrealist painter!’

  Salvador Dalí transformed into a giant cockroach.

  ‘Now you’re a bug!’ Blake yelled. ‘Where’s a can of spray when you need it?’

  The darkness shifted and Blake found himself back in the mall. Onlookers watched him warily, while a teenage girl tried to stifle laughter. It took Blake a few moments to realise the cockroach was actually Nicki. He rubbed his face—he felt numb all over.

  ‘…feel better in a moment,’ Nicki was saying.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You went into a gas bar without a mask.’

  Zeeb says:

  Gas bars have long been used for social gatherings. The number one rule is to always put a mask on as you enter. Customers are then served a variety of gases that cause particular sensations.

  Those without masks can expect hallucinations. Most people claim they go to those bars after work to enjoy a quiet gas to relax.

  Some cynical observers have said the gases are simply an excuse to meet members of the opposite sex, which is probably more true.

  ‘Were Badde and Lisa in there?’ Blake asked.

  ‘No. They’d already gone, probably out the back.’