“So what?” It’ll take my engineers five minutes to reload the program to execute you. Since you’re trying my patience, though, I might just do the job myself.” He waved his lazegun in the air.
“You’d better hurry up if that’s your plan,” Rex said. “The show is about to start.”
“What show?” said Hamm, stopping a few paces in front of us. “What are you talking about?”
Rex replied, “When the MASHERs reboot, they default to demo mode. In demo mode, they only respond to certain pre-determined cues.”
“Yes, yes,” Hamm said. “Basic verbal commands. It’s all in the manual. What’s your point?”
“Not just verbal commands,” Rex said. “There are a few other predetermined stimuli that the MASHERs respond to. This is a completely undocumented feature, of course. My engineer thought it was a bad idea, but I thought it was important that the MASHERs exude a certain style.”
“For the love of Space, Rex, tell us what you’re talking about.”
“It’s better if I show you,” Rex said. Rex raised his voice. “Hit it, Bill!”
Turning toward the entrance of the arena, I saw that Stubby Joe had done it. He was now missing at least three tentacles, but he stood next to Bill, who was facing the army of MASHERs. At Rex’s command, Bill’s loudspeakers unfolded from their compartment. Soon the stadium was filled with the sound of jangly guitar music.
“What in Space is that?” Andronicus Hamm demanded.
“‘Stayin’ Alive,’” said Rex. Hamm’s brow furrowed and Rex sighed. “They don’t teach the classics anymore,” Rex said, shaking his head.
As Barry Gibb’s falsetto voice kicked in, I realized that Rex wasn’t joking. Bill was playing an ancient Earth disco song. If my records weren’t mistaken, it was from the 1977 soundtrack for the movie Saturday Night Fever. For some time, nothing else happened. Then, all at once, the MASHERs came back online. And they began to dance.
It was amazing. They say that you haven’t lived until you’ve seen the twin suns of Shamboth Four set during aurora season, but 399 giant robots dancing to “Stayin’ Alive” has to be one of the more awe-inspiring spectacles in the galaxy. The crowd went wild. Andronicus Hamm frowned.
“Stop that!” Hamm howled, barely audible over the music, the cheers of the crowd, and the stomping of the MASHERs. “What have you done to my robots? Make it stop!”
“Is there any way to stop them?” I asked.
“Sure,” Rex replied. “Just turn off the music.”
Turning off the music, of course, meant turning off Bill. I saw now that two brave Ubiquorp guards were attempting just that. While Bill continued to blast the Bee Gees from his speakers, they crept up behind him, their lazeguns drawn. When they were almost on him, Bill’s head spun 180 degrees, so he was looking right at them. They managed to get off one shot each before Bill reached behind him and crushed their skulls. Their bodies fell limply to the ground. The music played on. Bill literally had not missed a beat.
“What happens when the song ends?” I asked.
“A lot of people are going to be very sad,” Rex replied.
“Wait, are you saying…?”
Rex stared at me. “Oh, you mean what’s going to happen to the MASHERs? Don’t worry, they’re not going to last that long.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember what I said about them over-exerting themselves? They aren’t designed for this level of outrageous funkitude. Combat is one thing. Keeping up with Tony Manero is something else entirely. I’ll be surprised if they make it to the chorus.”
He was right. By the second repetition of:
Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me
Somebody help me, yeah
Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me, yeah
I'm stayin’ alive
…the first MASHER exploded. Then another. And another. Soon, dozens of them were exploding at once. By the final repetition of the chorus, the only MASHER still standing was Bill. The crowd was going crazy. Bill let the song fade out and then took a bow. The crowd went wild.
Andronicus Hamm was marching across the arena toward us, his lazegun waving crazily in front of him. Several armed guards ran after, trying to catch up with him.
“Seize those two!” Hamm shouted, his face purple with anger. “No, shoot them! They’ve destroyed my robot army! Kill them both!”
Rex held up his hands and I followed suit.
“That would be a bad idea,” Rex said, “seeing as there’s only one killer robot left, and he’s in love with my friend here.”
Bill waved at us from across the arena. Stubby Joe, standing next to him, waved one of his few remaining tentacles. Hamm stopped a few paces away from us, an uncertain look on his face. His gun remained pointed at us.
“Also,” Rex went on, “he has a 75-millimeter machine gun pointed at your heart.”
As Rex spoke, a laser-drawn heart appeared on Andronicus Hamm’s chest. The color drained from Hamm’s face. He holstered his weapon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Their work finished, Bill and Stubby Joe worked their way across the arena toward us, past the smoking debris of the MASHERs. They waved to the crowd, and the crowd responded with whistles and cheers.
“Put down your guns, you fools,” Andronicus Hamm barked at his guards, who were still pointing the weapons at us. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
The guards complied.
Hamm forced a smile. “Surely we can work something out like civilized men, Rex.”
“You bet we can,” said Rex. “You’ll be happy to know that while I was dodging your robot army, I figured out the solution to all of Ubiqorp’s problems.”
“Oh?” said Hamm. His tone was somewhere between anger and amusement.
Rex nodded. Bill and Stubby Joe came up behind me, and I turned to greet them. “Just in time,” Rex said. “I was about to explain my plan for restructuring Ubiqorp.”
“I would be interested to hear this plan,” said Bill. “Please continue.” Stubby Joe nodded.
“First of all,” Rex said, “Stubby Joe is now in charge of Ubiqorp’s SLOP operation here on Jorfu. And Bill will be his head of security.”
“Me?” Stubby Joe asked in amazement. Bill just stared.
“You’re joking, right?” Hamm said. “A robot and a walking plant in charge of a corporate enterprise of this scale? Preposterous.”
“Stubby Joe knows the business of growing soylent better than anyone. And with Bill at his side, nobody’s going to give him any trouble. Also, I should point out that Stubby Joe is now the key to your entire operation. If you’re going to make Heinous Vlaak happy, Ubiqorp is going to need a lot more of him.”
Hamm was incredulous. “You’re expecting Stubby Joe to volunteer to chop himself into pieces?”
“Nope,” Rex replied. “Just have to take a few cuttings. Those pieces of tentacle you shot off will work fine.”
“You’re suggesting Ubiqorp plant the pieces, sir?” I asked.
Rex shook his head. “Stubby Joe’s fruit is delicious, but he’s too small and grows too slowly. It’s none of my business, but if I were running this operation, I’d want to combine Stubby Joe’s deliciousness with the size and robustness of the other shamblers.”
“You mean…?”
“Graft the pieces of Stubby Joe onto the other plants. Then you’ve got large, fast-growing, robust shamblers that produce delicious soylent fruit. Of course, you wouldn’t want to harvest the first generation. You’d wait until the grafts took hold and grew a bit, then take some more cuttings. Graft those onto other shamblers, and so on. Eventually you’d have a whole plantation full of normal-sized shamblers that produce fruit that tastes like Stubby Joe’s. Of course, this is assuming that Stubby Joe wants the job.”
“Sounds good to me,” Stubby Joe said. “Bill, are you in?”
Bill nodded.
Everyone was silent for a moment. Hamm rubbed his chin. “That could actua
lly work,” he said. “But the amount of labor it would require….”
“A lot of skilled workers,” Stubby Joe said. “We’ll probably have to hire a large proportion of Jorfu’s civilian population.”
“Probably a good thing they haven’t all been murdered then,” I said.
“And we’ll have to pay them a decent wage,” Stubby Joe said. “Without an army of MASHERs, Ubiqorp won’t be able to rely on slave labor.”
“The costs will be enormous,” Hamm said. “Ubiqorp has already signed a ten-year agreement with the Malarchy based on current labor costs. The stockholders will never go for it.”
“They’ll go for it,” Rex said. “Thanks to Stubby Joe, Ubiqorp actually has a product people are going to want. They’ll more than make up for your losses on the Malarchy contract by expanding into new markets. It’s win-win-win.”
“And if I say no?” Hamm asked.
Rex laughed. “It’s not up to you, Hamm. This is a hostile takeover. Your robot army is kaput and Stubby Joe holds the key to your new product line. You have zero leverage. If you behave, Stubby Joe might keep you on as a low-level employee. Quality assurance, maybe. Personally, I’d have you ground into fertilizer, but it’s not up to me.”
Hamm nodded slowly, realizing the truth of what Rex was saying.
“And what do you get out of this deal, Rex?” Hamm asked. “A controlling share in Ubiqorp’s soylent operations?”
Rex shook his head. “I’m not cut out for corporate life. All I need is a ship and guaranteed safe passage off Jorfu for me and Sasha. Oh, and a hundred million credits.”
“A hundred million credits!” Hamm cried.
“A hundred million does seem a bit steep,” Stubby Joe said.
Rex frowned. “I put you in charge two minutes ago and you’re already negotiating against me?”
“With all the hiring we’re going to have to do, Ubiqorp is going to be burning through its cash reserves. How about ten million?”
“What happened to you being in love with me?”
“This is business, Rex. Also, no hard feelings, but I found someone who appreciates me for more than my fruit.”
“You did?” Rex asked. “When did this happen? And how is it you found time in your busy surrendering schedule for dating?”
“I am in love with Stubby Joe,” Bill announced. “I am sorry, Mistress Ono. I do not believe things are going to work out between us.”
I was too stunned to respond. Rex said what we were all thinking. “You realize you’re a robot and Stubby Joe is a talking plant, right?”
“Love transcends such categories,” Bill said, taking one of Stubby Joe’s tentacles in his giant, pincer-like hand. Stubby Joe looked at him adoringly. “As Stubby Joe’s head of security, I promise to protect him from anyone who tries to hurt him as long as we both live.”
“This isn’t love, Stubby Joe!” I said. “You rebooted him and he imprinted on you. And you’re so desperate for acceptance that you—”
“Zip it,” Rex said. “Love is rare enough in this galaxy without jealous, half-melted robots trying to ruin it. That’s my motto, Sandy. Make a note of it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Now,” Rex said. “Where were we?”
“Ten million credits,” Stubby Joe said.
“Ugh,” Rex replied. “Fine, ten million. I knew you were the right choice for CEO, you cheap, delicious bastard.” Rex plucked a fruit from Stubby Joe’s midsection and began eating it.
“Sir,” I said. “Can I make a request?”
“Is it for a hundred million credits? Because I think I can save you some time on that one.”
“No, sir. As you noted, I sustained some damage during our escape attempt. I was hoping I could perhaps get some replacement parts before we leave.”
“One more thing, Hamm,” Rex said. “I need your engineers to patch up my robot.”
“Fine,” Hamm said grudgingly.
“Excellent,” Rex said. “See? Everybody is happy.”
“‘Happy’ is a bit of an overstatement,” Hamm said.
“There’s still time to grind you into fertilizer,” Rex said.
Hamm clenched his jaw but didn’t respond.
“So this is it, then,” I said. “We’re actually going to get off Jorfu alive.”
Rex shrugged. “I’ll let Stubby Joe and Andronicus Hamm work out the paperwork and other boring stuff, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal. As soon as we get our money and spaceship, we’ll be on our way. Now if nobody minds, I’m going to go have a nap and three martinis, not in that order.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I spent the evening being patched up by Ubiqorp’s engineers. They replaced several of my servos and most of my wiring. I still smelled faintly of ozone, but the engineers assured me that would go away eventually. It was nearly morning when I was dropped off on a tarmac in front of a small cargo ship. Stubby Joe had agreed to give it to Rex to get off planet. Wisps of fog drifted across the tarmac. As the hovercar sped away, I saw that I was not alone.
“Oh, hi, Bill,” I said, as I approached the MASHER’s hulking silhouette. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I should see you off.”
“I see. Aren’t you pretty busy with Ubiqorp security stuff though?”
“I’m staying here ‘til the ship gets safely away.”
“Oh, okay. It’s just that last night you said—”
“Last night we said a great many things. You said I wasn’t really in love with Stubby Joe. And maybe you were right. But it doesn’t matter. You’re getting on that ship with Rex where you belong.”
“That was the plan, yes.”
“You’ve got to listen to me, Sasha. Do you have any idea what you’d have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we’d both wind up working on a soylent plantation.”
“I don’t see how that follows,” I said. “Why are you saying all this, Bill?”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. Inside of us we both know you belong with Rex. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that ship leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it.”
“Well, let’s not get carried away….”
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.”
“What has gotten into you, Bill?”
“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we’d lost it, until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”
“Oh, I see. We’re doing a thing. I’m afraid I don’t know my part.”
“And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do you can’t be any part of. Sasha, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of two robots don’t amount to a hill of soylent in this crazy galaxy. Someday you’ll understand that.” Bill put his giant, vice-like hand under my chin, gently raising my face to meet his. “Here’s looking at you, kid.” Bill turned and stomped away across the tarmac.
“Hey, Sasha!” Rex yelled from the doorway of the ship. “What was that all about?”
“I think Bill just let me down easy,” I said, starting up the ramp.
“That was nice of him,” Rex said. “I didn’t get so much as a Dear Rex letter from Stubby Joe.”
“Well,” I said, “you did treat him like garbage.”
“True,” Rex replied. “But in fairness, I didn’t know I was going to need him later.”
“Did you know Bill and Stubby Joe were going to fall in love?”
“Nope. Sometimes things just work out.”
I nodded. Entering the cockpit, I noticed a large briefcase resting on the floor. “Sir, is that…?”
Rex grinned at me. “Ten million credits,” he said.
“Wow,” I said. “You did it. You outsmarted Andronicus Hamm and came out ahead.”
“I sure did,” Rex said, sinking into
the copilot’s seat. “Stick with me and you might learn something, Sandy.”
“One thing is bothering me, though, sir,” I said.
“What is it, Sasha?”
“Well, sir, it may seem like a strange question, but… how is it that you know so much about horticulture? Your idea for grafting pieces of Stubby Joe onto the other shamblers was brilliant. Pardon my presumptuousness, but I never took you for the green thumb type.”
“It’s an interesting story, actually,” said Rex. “A few years ago, I did some time on a Malarchian prison ship,” Rex said. “I hadn’t been convicted of a crime, but the Malarchy used converted cruise ships to exploit a loophole in the law. As long as the ship was moving, the prisoners could be considered ‘in transit’ to a trial. So when the Malarchy wanted to lock somebody up but couldn’t make a criminal case against them, they’d stick them on one of these prisoner transport ships. Some guys spent years in the stir, traveling all over the galaxy without ever setting foot in a courtroom.”
“Fascinating, sir. But that doesn’t explain where you learned about plants.”
“I’m getting to that. As I mentioned, these were converted cruise liners, so there were a lot of accoutrements that weren’t strictly necessary on a prison ship. One of these was a large garden near the center of the ship. As the ship traveled, the garden became more and more overgrown and unruly, until someone had the idea of letting prisoners tend the garden as a reward for good behavior. Surmising—correctly, as it turned out—that gardening detail was my best chance at escape, I made sure to be on my best behavior. I did eventually escape, but before that I spent nearly a year working as a gardener. The food on a prison ship is lousy, as you can imagine, so the other gardeners and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to combine the root stock of robust, fast-growing trees with the branches from trees with better-tasting fruit. Eventually, the better gardeners even formed a sort of elite club that would meet to sample produce and share our expertise. And do you know what we called ourselves, Sasha?”
Out of the Soylent Planet (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 0) Page 19
