Quong shook his head. “It is only a matter of time, my friend. According to their discussions with Harsch, the Corasians consider you an ideal subject. They plan to copy your mechanics, to give their own robotic bodies greater capabilities. The Corasians wanted to start operating then and there. Strauss told them not to. For the time being, at least.”
“That was sweet of her.” Xris gave a few seconds to the prospect of having his body pulled apart without benefit of anesthetics. A few seconds was more that enough. “What’s she want to keep me around for?” He waved his remaining hand. “Other than as her sex toy, of course.”
Quong grunted. “Seems there’s some questions Harsch wants to ask you about the robot.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Like where is it?”
Xris stared at the infrared outline of his friend. In the background, Harry was droning, “The professor attended MIT for two years, but was expelled for being in possession of a controlled substance—”
“Oh, that’s too much!” Raoul doubled over, helpless with laughter.
Xris said cautiously, “Okay, I give up. Where is the robot?”
Quong shrugged. “Search me. The last I saw, it was in sick bay. I was preparing to dissect it— Oh, sorry.” He patted Xris on the shoulder, the shoulder that was missing a hand. “I wasn’t thinking. Anyhow, the ‘bot’s not there now, apparently. And someone else is missing, too.”
Xris glanced around the room. He counted six faintly glowing bodies, including his own. “Who’ve we lost?”
“Jeffrey Grant.”
“Son of a bitch. I forgot all about him. Where is he?”
“He’s not here, that much I know. And no one’s said a word about him. No one—catch my drift?”
“You mean Strauss?”
“Yes. I don’t think she’s mentioned him to Harsch. I told the others to keep quiet. According to what I over heard Strauss tell Harsch, the robot was on its own.”
“Strange,” Xris said, trying to account for this and not having much luck. “Maybe she’s keeping Grant on ice, plans to cut a little deal for herself after Sakuta’s gone. Although that doesn’t make much sense. Wouldn’t be worth the risk, in my opinion. But then, what do I know? I’ve been operating in the dark this whole fucking job.”
“... married,” Harry was saying, “to Greta Jean Schnickbaum, a Ph.D. in nuclear physics. They had no children. They used to say that their robots were their children..,.”
“Four humans.” Xris was adding up the score. “Armed?”
“To the teeth. Their teeth may be armed, for all I know They’re walking arsenals. Looks like each one has an anti Corasian dampener device.”
“What the hell’s that?” Xris demanded.
“It fires a blast of oppositely polarized energy, short circuits them, so to speak. Say you had a battery—”
“Say I didn’t. What else?”
“They each have several high-caliber needle-guns, designed to crack open plastisteel.”
“Looks like Sakuta doesn’t exactly trust his Corasian hosts.” Xris glanced around at his team. “I presumed they searched us while we were out. I don’t suppose they overlooked anything?”
“They missed nothing,” Quong said glumly. “They even look a small corkscrew which I hake a habit of carrying in my wallet.”
“Those guns would outfit us nicely,” Xris said in thoughtful tones. “Give us a real edge.”
“Against the thousand or so Corasians on this ship? I admire your notion of fair play, my friend.”
Xris smiled. “Beats throwing Raoul’s high heels at them.”
Quong was not to be deterred. “Not to mention the fact that we are locked in this cold-storage compartment with no way out—Jamil couldn’t find a door.”
“He won’t. Not in a meat locker. The Corasians don’t like to have to chase their lunch around. Only one way in, and that’s from outside.”
“And,” Quong continued, “you are the only one who can see in this confounded nightmare, with the possible exception of the Little One, who may have natural infrared.”
“And that’s the good news.” Xris slapped Quong on the back. “It’s what I like about you, Doc. Your optimistic viewpoint.”
“I feel it is my duty to identify the difficulties,” Quong said stiffly.
“I know, Doc. I know,” Xris said. “It’s just—”
A clanging sound interrupted him, coming from the wall.
“Company,” Xris warned. “At my signal, Doc, jump them. Pass the word.”
“Jump whom?” Quong demanded. “With what?”
“I have my weapons hand,” Xris said softly.
“Oh, well.” Quong grumbled. “That makes all the difference. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“And tell Jamil not to let them shut that door!” Xris ordered.
Quong grunted again and stumbled off into the darkness, hands outstretched, feeling his way along. He bumped into Tycho, imparted Xris’s orders. Tycho told Harry. The word spread quickly, to judge by Raoul’s partially stifled laughter. The team spaced themselves within arm’s length of each other, reaching out their hands to keep in touch.
A giggling Raoul shook the Little One, propped him onto his feet.
The Little One’s head slumped; the fedora tumbled onto the floor. Raoul prodded him. The Little One’s head snapped up. He gazed around sleepily, and then apparently the mental turmoil struck him, for he was suddenly alert and wide awake. He shifted his gaze toward the wall. The banging sounds continued. Apparently they were attempting to open the door and not having much success.
The Corasians are obsessed with obtaining human technology, primarily because they are so bad at it themselves. Almost all of the technology they have ever acquired has been stolen from the human and alien residents of the Milky Way galaxy next door. Often the Corasians borrowed the mechanics, without having any real clear understanding of how they operated, which meant that machinery breakdowns were frequent occurrences.
Unfortunately, it had been Xris’s experience that the breakdowns usually happened only to mundane equipment—such as hatch seals. Corasian’ weapons, which were attached to the robotic bodies and operated by impulse energy from a computer “brain,” worked just fine.
Xris boosted his hearing. Beneath the banging and clanging, he could hear swearing. A human voice, probably Harsch’s, though it was too faint to be able to tell. The voice didn’t sound happy.
Xris grinned. Harsch was in one hell of a spot. He’d promised to deliver one Lane-laying robot and was now faced with the prospect of explaining to this bunch of flesh-devouring fiery globs of goo that he wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise. Harsch must be sweating— literally. No wonder he was keeping those bodyguards close. And they would likely be paying more attention to their Corasian hosts than to a sorry group of unarmed prisoners. The bodyguards wouldn’t be expecting an assault from that quarter.
It was a chance. Not much of one. The guards were well armed and it wouldn’t take them long to shift their thinking and their aim. And there was always the Corasians. But a chance, even a slim one, was better than no chance at all.
Xris ripped the sleeve from his cybernetic arm, tore off the fleshfoam, laying bare the metal “bones,” the instruments, the flashing lights. He popped open the panel on his steel leg. Taking out his weapons hand, he attached the hand to his wrist. Fortunately, he was so accustomed to doing this that he could work in the dark. He felt the hand click into place, made adjustments. A green light blinked on; the hand was operational.
Xris looked around. Everyone was set. He could talk now; the banging would cover his voice.
“I have my weapons hand attached and ready to use. At my signal, jump the guard nearest you. Don’t worry about the Corasians; I’ll take care of them. When you take out the guards, grab their weapons. Jamil, whatever happens, don’t let that door shut. Understand?”
He heard a chorus of affirmatives and one hysteri
cal hiccup. The banging had ceased for the moment. Harsch came across clearly now, loudly berating someone. A computerized voice offered explanations. The voice was tinny, mechanical, without feeling, and a shiver started at Xris’s tailbone, went up his spine.
Soon he might be listening to those voices talking about him, talking over him, as he lay stretched out on a table while they slit him open and tore out ...
He shook his head angrily. What was he doing, letting his imagination run amuck!
A small body barreled into him, grabbing him by the knees. Startled, Xris looked down.
The Little One had hold of Xris’s pants legs, was tugging on them emphatically, nearly pulling them off.
“What the—” Xris was keyed up. “Raoul, what the devil is wrong with him? Get him off me! Hurry! They’ve almost got the door mechanism fixed! They’ll be in here any second! I can’t fire with him hanging on to me!”
Raoul, chuckling, sauntered over to retrieve his small friend. “I know that you are fond of Xris Cyborg. We are all of us fond of him. But this is neither the time nor the place in which to express your—”
Raoul stopped talking. He stared at the Little One, who was clinging to Xris’s trousers with one hand, gesticulating with other.
“Oh! I see!” Raoul cried in delight. “I see! You were right all along! My friend!” He turned to Xris, who could have sworn that the Adonian’s eyes glowed red in the darkness, like a cat’s. “The Little One says to tell you that Tess works for Naval Intelligence!”
“I bloody well know that!” Xris shouted, fuming. The banging had started again, was accompanied by an ominous-sounding clank, as if a seal had given way. “Get him off me!”
“Company coming,” Jamil reported from his position near the door.
“She’s only pretending to work for Naval Intelligence She’s really working for Harsch!” Xris attempted to pry the Little One’s clutching hands loose.
Raoul was performing some sort of mad, insane dance, revolving on his tiptoes, his hands clicking in the air like castanets. “She’s working for NI, working for Harsch, working for NI!” He made it a little song. “She’s been working for the Naaa-vy!”
“Good God! He’s stoned out of his skull!” Xris muttered.
He ripped the Little One’s hands loose, shoved the empath away. The Little One stumbled into Raoul. The two collided, tumbled onto the deck.
“And stay there!” Xris ordered. “Keep your fool heads down or they’ll get blown off.”
The Little One made a frantic attempt to regain his feet, but he tangled with Raoul, who was attempting drunkenly to accomplish the same task. The two weren’t having much success.
Xris hurriedly thrust the hand that was no longer a hand but a rocket launcher into the front of his uniform jacket. He stood cradling the limb as if ashamed to reveal the fact that the arm was missing an appendage.
The door—little more than a crack in the wall—was starting to open. A hideous red light welled through. Heat radiated.
Jamil was plainly visible now, flattened against the wall near the door. Sweat beaded on his black skin. He was peering out the opening. He raised a hand; it was bathed in red light. One finger—that was Harsch. Another linger—probably Tess. Four fingers—the bodyguards. Two more fingers—Corasians.
The door swung wide, the Corasians rolled inside. The light and the heat grew brighter and stronger.
The implications of what the Little One had been saying struck Xris.
Working for Naval Intelligence, working for Harsch, working for Naval Intelligence!
A ... triple agent?
Was that possible?
Yes! Something in Xris shouted hopefully, but he ignored the voice, because he refused to listen to the part of himself that was talking; the emotional, irrational, damnably romantic part of himself who wanted very much to believe that Captain Tess Strauss was on his side.
Xris didn’t trust that part of himself and he didn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust her! His life and, more important, the lives of his people were at stake.
The door opened wide enough to allow the Corasians to enter.
Orange blobs of molten goo encased in plastisteel bodies that trundled about on wheels. The Corasians were more repulsive than frightening—that is, unless you’ve seen them ooze out of their robot cases, swarm over a living human being, burn the flesh off the bones, then start on the bones....
The Corasians were followed by Harsch, his four bodyguards crowding on his heels. Tess entered next. Xris was supposed to be watching Harsch, watching the bodyguards, waiting for an opening. But his gaze kept going to Tess. Could he read the truth in her face?
Of course not. She was good. Very good. Whichever side she was on. She refused to make eye contact with him, had glanced in his direction only very briefly, and that to make certain she knew where he was and what he was doing. Her gaze took in everyone else at the same time. Her face was set in concrete, hard, without expression. Her eyes were dark as the darkness in the corridor behind her.
Xris cursed the Little One, cursed him for putting doubt in his mind. Xris had been going to kill her; he could have killed her with a clear conscience, without regret. Now he wasn’t sure....
Harsch held a lasgun in his hand. He turned the gun on Xris. “Where is the robot?”
Xris shrugged, nursed his maimed arm. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t blame you,” Xris said. “I don’t much believe myself. But it’s the truth. We don’t know where the robot is.”
“We could help you look,” Quong offered politely. “Where did you see it last?”
“Did you try under the bed?” Tycho was helpful.
“You gentlemen are funny.” Harsch glanced at each of them, a slight line marring his smooth forehead. One side of his mouth twitched, one hand flexed. He was angry ... and scared.
“Very funny. Unfortunately, my customers don’t have much of a sense of humor. They are growing impatient. Tess ...” Harsch stepped back. “You know these men. Handle it.”
Tess raised her lasgun, aimed it at Quong. Her gaze flicked to Xris. “Tell us where the robot is or your friend the doctor dies. You have five seconds. I’ll count. One.”
Her hand holding the gun was steady, never wavered. The eyes were empty.
The Little One was wrong.
“Two.”
The small rockets mounted on Xris’s weapons hand were of his own invention and design, intended to be used specifically against the Corasians. He owned the patent. He’d sold it to the Navy, made a small fortune. It was that fortune which had allowed him to put the team together. With one rocket, he could take out one Corasian, plus Tess and Harsch.
But the moment he lifted his cybernetic hand, aimed, Tess would fire. Quong would be dead. And there would be nothing Xris could do.
“Three.”
That left the four bodyguards and one Corasian. Xris would take out that Corasian with his second rocket, and by that time the bodyguards would have recovered and he would be dead.
“Four.” Tess was frowning, not pleased.
Quong stood still, stoic. He knew the score. Harry was balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to hurl his bulky body at the nearest bodyguard. Jamil was by the door, the only escape route, for those who survived. Raoul, giggling, had made it to his feet. He staggered, stumbled, veered in Harsch’s general direction. The Little One’s hands were hidden in the raincoat pockets. Tycho’s skin tone had altered to red.
“You won’t tell me where the robot is?” Tess kept her gaze fixed on Quong, addressed Xris.
He needed to make her shift her attention to him. “Now!” he yelled loudly, and jerked his weapons hand out from his coat. He jumped forward. Tess shifted her aim, fired.
The laser blast burned through the back of Nick Harsch’s skull, exited the front. Xris had never seen anyone look so surprised.
Chapter 41
Do not remain on isolated terra
in.
Sun-tzu, The Art of War
Harsch died standing on his feet, his mouth gaping nearly as wide as the hole in the back of his head. His bodyguards—hearing the sound of the blast—turned to see what was happening, discovered that their jobs had just become superfluous. Harsch started to crumble. “Now!” Xris yelled—again.
Harry, bellowing like a bull, charged his man, caught him amidships. The guard’s beam rifle flew from his hands, hit the deck. Tycho was on hand to grab it. He turned, fired, took out another bodyguard, who was lining up on Quong.
The third guard was swinging his rifle around to take out Xris. He hoped somebody would deal with that, couldn’t take time to do anything himself. A Corasian was standing directly behind Tess.
“Strauss!” Xris bellowed over the laser blasts and whines of the beam rifles and screams of the wounded. “Down! Get down!”
Tess dropped face first to the deck, covered her head with her arms. Xris fired one missile, struck the Corasian in the robot head. The head exploded, destroying the computer “brain.” That didn’t kill the Corasian. Its plastisteel body cracked open; the fiery amoeba form began to crawl out, oozed toward Tess’s feet. Xris dashed forward. “Die, damn you, die!” He swore helplessly at the Corasian. Laser blasts didn’t affect the aliens. They appeared to thrive on the energy. Xris’s missile used a negative charge that drained the alien, negated the energy. This time he’d failed, obviously. The lavalike blob was almost on Tess, was creeping up to her booted foot. She kept her head down, couldn’t see the danger.
Xris had watched the Corasians kill humans before, had seen them devour the living flesh in flame. He would have to fire again, although that left him only four missiles and they still had a long way to go. He took aim.
The Corasian’s red-orange glow began to dim. It continued to move, but more slowly. The blob began to blacken.
Xris reached Tess. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, dragged her behind him, put his body between her and the dying Corasian. Tess’s head jerked up, startled. She saw the Corasian, sucked in a breath, and scrambled the rest of the way on her hands and knees.
Robot Blues Page 36
