Rogue Berserker

by Fred Saberhagen

  Harry grunted. “Right now I still don’t want to meet him—unless he has my people with him—?”

  “I have just told you he does not.”

  “Then I’ll be happy to go around him. I’ve got to get myself somehow up into the Chewing Pod, if there is such a ship, and find out …” He couldn’t say the words.

  “Of course there is such a ship. My base defenses, which as you know were never very strong, have been damaged in the fighting, and my powers of detection at a distance are inferior. But I believe the Chewing Pod is now no more than ninety kilometers from us and closing. It will dock here, if that is Satranji’s intention, in approximately three minutes.”

  “I’ve got to get aboard it.”

  “I assumed that that would be your intention. I will try to guide the Satranji-unit in another direction, and arrange it so the two of you do not meet—just yet.”

  Harry maneuvered a little closer to the place where the yacht’s hard prow had punctured the relatively thin outer wall of the base at a vulnerable spot. The designer of this base, no doubt the rogue itself, had made no provision in his plan for any viewports, but the assassin had been carrying armament heavy enough to correct that deficiency.

  Harry had his choice of gaping holes through which to inspect the situation, and clinging to the jagged edge of one of them he could clearly see the Pod, which was positioned just as the rogue had described it.

  It was hardly more than spitting distance away, preparing to attach somehow—from here, he couldn’t see exactly how—to the Weapon on the opposite side from the yacht. Harry was certain he could reach it, perhaps reach it easily, by passing through the two other ships. Satranji, or his autopilot, had arranged to have his spacegoing whorehouse near, to afford him ready access to whatever valuable cargo might be on board. As soon as he judged the right moment had arrived, he would want to quickly extract from it the gifts he meant to offer to the rogue.

  Harry pushed on in silence, getting into position for the climb out of the base’s artificial gravity, along the hull of the Ship of Dreams to a place where a large, ripped opening suggested entrance would be possible. Maybe the rogue was setting him up to be ambushed. Or maybe it was Satranji who would get a nasty surprise—or the weird machine might be just playing games with both of them. Harry couldn’t guess.

  A faint tremor, as of some minor impact, came through the deck beneath his feet. Suddenly the odd berserker’s voice was back, the rogue observing that the Chewing Pod had just arrived, touching down by attaching itself to the Secret Weapon on the opposite side from Cheng’s flagship yacht.

  “Then there really is such a ship.”

  “Of course.” The rogue still seemed determined to be cooperative. “Had I any mobile units to spare, I could try sending one of them to find a way into the Chewing Pod, and rescue your people if they are there. Unfortunately, I have no units available just now.”

  “You’d rescue them.”

  “Certainly. Have you and I not become allies? Both in search of the great truths of the Universe?”

  “I’ve told you what I’m in search of. While you’re computing what you ought to do next, I’m going to do what I can.” There was still one more factor to be accounted for, and Harry looked around for the vehicle that he had ridden here. “What’s happened to the assassin’s transporter?”

  The rogue replied that that machine was now drifting in nearby space, apparently dead, after exchanging fire with the ground defenses, and then touching down. During the brief duration of that contact, its boarding machines had leapt aground, blasted their way into the rogue’s interior architecture, and started dealing out destruction. But in only a few seconds they had been met and their assault stalled by a powerful counterattack.

  “Thanks for the information. And for the help. So far you’re doing a good job of keeping me alive.”

  “There are many details of your life that I would discover, Harry Silver. Therefore it is my intention that you should not die for many years.” Eventually, the rogue went on to admit, it would find a duel between the two skillful ED humans fascinating. But right now its highest priority and overriding need was to get rid of the assassin.

  Harry jumped as his airmikes brought him the sound of a small, familiar voice coming from only a few meters away. He turned to see the battered robot Dorijen standing there, politely calling for his attention.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Having already been told that the assassin’s transporter had touched down briefly on the rogue’s docking space, Harry was not surprised to see that Dorijen had used the opportunity to come aground.

  He said: “Greetings, kid. How’s my old buddy, the assassin? Any message for me?”

  “I am currently carrying no message.”

  Dorry explained that at the moment when the spacegoing machine touched down, she had made a quick decision and moved as briskly as she could to get out of the transporter and into the berserker base. The assassin had ignored her movements, and for all she could tell it might have forgotten her completely—no doubt it was too fully occupied with launching its attack, all its resources stretched too thin for it to know or care what the tame robot might be up to.

  Her overall objective on entering the base was to locate whatever human life might still exist within its walls, and offer whatever help might be possible. She concluded: “Have you reason to expect such a communication?”

  “Probably not.” Harry gave a twisted grin. “It’s just that the assassin must be a bit unhappy with me—ready to assassinate.”

  “I do not understand.”

  Harry quickly explained the reasoning that had led him to treacherously switch sides, and his current tentative arrangement with the rogue.

  Dorry indicated her understanding. “I must inform you, sir,” she went on, “that I am now willing to assign a higher probability to the hypothesis that you are not truly goodlife, that your offers of cooperation to these berserkers are made only with an intention to mislead the enemy. Had I your assurance that this revised interpretation is correct, that might be sufficient to tip the balance of my computations in your favor.”

  “Yeah? And when your balance tipped—?”

  “That would allow me to place myself once more under your command.”

  It sounded to Harry like convoluted uncertainty, arrived at through a process of pure logic. He knew that the thinking machines were rarely any good at picking up on such subtleties as When is a human lying?—unless the contradictory facts were plainly visible. Dorry evidently understood her own weakness in this regard.

  “Good,” he said. “Consider yourself reassured. Yes, I’m lying to both the damned machines, and hoping for some kind of miracle, that my people are still alive and I can help them. I do indeed have in mind a glorious plan, by which the cause of life will ultimately triumph. Can’t tell it to you now, because the enemy might be listening.” And also, he thought to himself, because I really have no idea what the hell it is.

  * * *

  Having announced her intention to be of service, Dorry followed close on Harry’s heels as he worked his way up out of the base’s artificial gravity, then swung himself in weightlessness from one precarious handhold to another, along the slightly crumpled flank of Ship of Dreams. Briefly he had considered sending the robot on ahead, but decided against it, not wanting to alert any enemies who might be waiting there.

  Soon Harry gained a position that afforded him his first real look at the Pod, a bulbous shape intermediate in size between the two ships to which it was now attached. The sight of it gave him another jolt. Any human who might have been inside when that happened had certainly been at risk; the damage he had earlier observed looked even worse from this angle. Obviously the assassin as well as the yacht had been firing to suppress the rogue’s modest ground defenses, and obviously the attempt had not been entirely successful. Return fire from the ground had blasted a sizable hole in this new intruder’s hull. Harry could chalk up another
ship that couldn’t be used to get away. But the third ship’s presence opened up new possibilities for the discovery of usable launches and lifeboats. And if he could reach the ship, he ought to have no trouble making his way inside it.

  He could see enough to decide that clambering the whole distance along the outside of the smooth-hulled ships was not going to be possible. Harry’s only way to get into the Pod would be to pass first through the Ship of Dreams, and then traverse the Secret Weapon.

  In a few moments he had entered Ship of Dreams—this was the first time Harry had been aboard Cheng’s prize yacht, and things were somewhat unfamiliar. The passenger compartments were still airtight, and its internal gravity still worked. But the vessel had been emptied of people and of purpose. Harry encountered nothing that surprised him. A quick look into the control room confirmed the discouraging fact that the main drive was dead, and other internal damage had been extensive.

  Leaving Dorry aboard Dreams to check on the status of launch and lifeboats, Harry himself pressed on, looking for the airlock that would connect him to the next vessel, the more familiar Secret Weapon.

  With some difficulty he made his way on, through the mated hatchways, to board the smaller vessel. Here too, signs of extensive damage were immediately apparent.

  On entering the first small interior chamber on the Weapon, Harry paused to listen. In a moment his airmikes, tuned to great sensitivity, picked up the sound of faint, rapid breathing in the control room, the next compartment forward.

  He was well aware that this could be some berserker trick. But he was going to have to look and see.

  The first purposefully moving object Harry encountered on board the Weapon was a crude-looking club, swung with robotic speed and power in the hands of the tame robot Perdix, who was standing armed and ready to defend his master against any intrusion by the bad machines. The robot pulled its swing at the last instant, so the club only grazed Harry’s helmet, hitting the deck with an impact that gouged out chunks of material. Harry ripped out an oath, and came with a hairsbreadth of blasting the cabin’s two occupants, before he realized just who and what they were.

  On perceiving that the intruder was a human being, the robot Perdix lowered the crude weapon he had improvised by twisting free a damaged stanchion. Naturally Perdix offered no apology.

  The haggard face of Professor Gianopolous was peering anxiously at Harry from the copilot’s seat, on the other side of the control room. The inventor’s voice broke in the middle. “Harry! Thank God it’s you—I thought you were one of them.”

  Little more than the man’s face was visible, above a web of forcefield binding, entangling his limbs and body, effectively shackling him into his chair.

  Harry burst out with a demanding question.

  Gianopolous was almost gibbering. “Your people? I’ve no idea, Harry, why ask me? I’ve just been stuck here, where the lady bound me up, before she went dashing out to join Cheng. Perdix has been trying to get me loose, but he can’t make a dent in this stuff … What’s happening out there?”

  “What’s happening is that all hell’s broke loose. And the lady’s not coming back.” Harry paused to survey the inventor’s situation, and gave the silvery blur of the forcefield a testing touch with his armored hand. “I can fire a shot into this web, and that’ll probably break you free. Of course there’s a chance that you’ll be mangled by the recoil when it breaks.”

  Gianopolous closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Go ahead. I’d prefer to die quickly rather than sit here till I starve to death, or the berserkers come— Silver, you’ve just passed through the yacht, haven’t you? Isn’t there anyone there? What about Satranji? He was supposed to stay on board, and fight the ship.”

  “He seems to have decided that he had other business.” Harry warned the inventor: “Turn your face away, bend over as far as you can. There’s going to be some fireworks.” Harry brought up the muzzle of the carbine, and Perdix, quick to catch on, swiftly interposed his metal body in the crucial place.

  A single shot from Harry’s carbine—its gauge indicated he could count on half a dozen more—set the inventor free, and the flaring explosion in the confined space scorched the tame robot, though not seriously.

  Gianopolous seemed to have been partially deafened by the blast, but was otherwise unhurt. He quickly set about providing himself with a spacesuit from the spares on board—unfortunately none of them were armored. Harry delayed his own passage through the ship just long enough to ask a question or two.

  “What about the next ship? There’s another attached to this one, on the opposite side from the yacht.”

  Gianopolous had heard the sounds of its arrival, vibrating through the hull of his own ship. Then he had been told by his robot that a third ship was indeed attached in that place. “But I haven’t detected any signs of life from it. I thought maybe it was another berserker.”

  “Not quite. I’m heading over there.”

  * * *

  But again Harry’s further advance was momentarily delayed, this time by the arrival of Dorry, who reported having checked out the possibilities of escape by means of the yacht’s small craft, and found that they were nonexistent. The robot also reported that terrified refugees were beginning to creep into the yacht. “I have told them that the small craft are all inoperable, but they are disinclined to believe that.”

  “I can’t do anything about that. If they stay there, it’ll keep ‘em out of my hair, at least.”

  The inventor, still struggling to get into his protective suit, sounded almost eager. “Then what are we going to do, Silver? What are we going to do?”

  Harry grunted. “You can suit yourself. I’m moving on. How about borrowing your robot?”

  “If Perdix goes, I’m coming with you too. I’m not staying here alone.”

  Perdix picked up his club again.

  A few minutes later, Harry, now with two robots and one man at his heels, at last found his way into the Chewing Pod.

  Dorry had informed him that she was still carrying some key or code, given her by Satranji many days ago, for opening the hatch of the Chewing Pod. The same device would also give its possessor control over the Pod‘s automatic pilot, but that would probably not help. The appearance of the ship strongly suggested that its drive would almost certainly be useless.

  The tame robot had been given this key by Satranji at some earlier time, or had acquired it during the days she spent aboard that ship. Dorijen went on to remind Harry that she had almost perfectly memorized the vessel’s interior layout, and could guide him to the limited number of places aboard where two, or even more, living prisoners could be kept with some security.

  “I was of course never privy to my former master’s plans in this regard. But confinement in a state of suspended animation seems most likely,” Dorry suggested.

  “I was thinking along those lines myself. The quick and easy way to keep people on ice is to put them into medirobots.”

  “Yes. There are only a small number of places aboard the Chewing Pod where that would be feasible and convenient.”

  Dorry paused, then added: “Perhaps I should remind you, sir, that in the event we encounter the confessed goodlife Satranji, I stand ready to provide active assistance. As he is human—”

  “That’s doubtful.”

  “Excuse me. As he is human, I say, I of course cannot use deadly force against him, under any circumstances.”

  “Of course.”

  “But I can and do volunteer to put on a spacesuit at your orders, sir, then move about as a decoy, an imitation human to draw enemy fire.”

  “Thanks for the offer. When the time comes, I’ll consider it.”

  “Sir, to a robot, no thanks are—”

  “—ever necessary. Yeah, I know. It’s a bad habit I’ll try to break.”

  * * *

  Once inside the Pod, brought to a momentary halt by its garish decorations, unlike those of any spaceship that Harry had ever seen before,
he let the crippled robot take the lead. Dorry made short work of guiding him to the place where the two medirobots had been put away.

  This was a short hallway intended primarily for the use of maintenance and service machines, running between the galley and the dining room, kept air-filled because of frequent traffic between it and the dining room. The two coffin-sized, waist-high units had been shoved close against one wall, leaving only a narrow strip of passage open along the opposite one.

  Dorry suggested that with the help of Perdix, the two medirobots with their unconscious burdens could be fairly quickly loaded into the ship’s launch, or one of its lifeboats, assuming at least one of those small craft was still functional, and a quick getaway accomplished.

  Thinking quickly, Harry decided against that plan. The best and simplest way would be to awaken and release the people first.

  The robot could consider, or suggest to Harry, the possibility that Becky and Ethan would be in somewhat less danger staying where they were.

  But Harry overruled the suggestion: in this situation the only path to real safety lay in escaping from the Gravel Pit entirely.

  Bending over first one of the long boxes and then the other, Harry could see the small indicators showing that both devices were occupied, and in operation.

  Suddenly the rogue’s voice was once more an active presence in Harry’s helmet, affecting to be surprised that the medirobots were here.

  Harry growled back something nasty. “You didn’t know that, I suppose. But when I got aboard this ship, you managed to locate me in a hurry.”

  “Of course, Harry Silver, when the Chewing Pod is this close to me as it is now, I find it relatively easy to establish communication with any entity aboard. Did you not know that this vessel was once my gift to your goodlife enemy? But that does not mean I constantly monitor the function of every device on board. And, as you must know, a human body in a state of suspended animation is not easily detected.”