Robot Blues (43 page)

His seat exploded.

The rocket beneath
the copilot’s chair hurled Grant straight up. The top of the chair punched
through the canopy covering the cockpit. Steelglass shattered, as it was
designed to do, and fell away around Grant in a cascade of glittering shards.
The explosion was loud, but only for a split second, and then immense and
terrifying silence swallowed him.

Grant’s vacuum
suit expanded out, swelling like a balloon. He tumbled head over seat, moving
ever outward, away from the Claymore. With each revolution, he saw the
spaceplane below him, debris streaming out from the cockpit area, moving
farther and farther away.

It was only then
that Grant realized what had happened.

He had been
ejected.

He stared down at
his inflated, bloated body. His thoughts were disconnected and floating, much
as he was himself.

There is nothing
between me and the cold, suffocating blackness of space except plastic and
rubber.

I am alone out
here. What happens if no one finds me? I can’t yell for help. No one will hear
me. What a terrible way to die.

And yet, it’s
quite beautiful. I can see forever. Huge, immense stars are only specks. I am a
speck. But at the moment, I’m bigger than the stars....

At least the robot
won’t take out any more Lanes. The robot. Grant experienced a moment of
concern. Where is the robot?

The next
revolution, he saw a metallic speck traveling in the same direction as himself,
arms twirling over metal head. Grant felt immediately relieved. He’d been
afraid that it might have blown up in the explosion. The robot was safe and
they weren’t alone. When he rotated back to where he could see the Claymore, he
saw the PRRS come up around the disabled spaceplane.

Grant waved his
arm, discovered that this slight movement caused a violent shift in his
rotation. He wobbled around sideways, catching glimpses of the robot, the PRRS,
and the Claymore at different times.

He held himself
completely still and gradually his rotation slowed. Grant felt himself being
tugged gently toward the PRRS. Glancing around—as best he could, for the
view-constricting helmet—he saw the robot being sucked toward the PRRS.

A hatch beneath
Grant yawned.

I wonder, he
thought, as he sailed gracefully toward the gaping maw of the PRRS, if Mr.
Harry will let me keep this vacuum suit for my collection.

. . . While we
think of it, and talk of it

Let us leave it
alone, physically, keep apart.

For while we have
sex in the mind, we truly have

None in the body.

D.H. Lawrence, “Leave Sex Alone”

“You got a fix on
him?” Tess asked.

She stared out the
viewscreen of the PRRS, searching for Grant and the robot. Harry had said they
would be difficult to see with the naked eye, but that Xris with his enhanced
vision—might be able to pick them up.

“I can’t see them.
Nothing,” Xris reported.

“Not to worry,”
Harry said softly, his gaze focused on his instrument readings, hands poised
over the controls. “I see ‘em. I’ve got ‘em. Lock on target,” he ordered the
ship’s computer. “And ... fire!”

No missiles flamed
into the darkness, no flashing lethal laser light shot from the guns. An unseen
magnetic beam pulsed outward, bringing life, not death, though one might never
have guessed that from Harry’s orders.

What appeared at
first to be nothing more than a red flashing beacon came into sight, very
rapidly expanded into the form of a pilot, still strapped into his seat from
the Claymore. Grant’s face was visible—looking moon-shaped and distorted behind
the helmet.

Next, Harry
targeted the second blip and brought it in. The robot, with its sad eyes,
stared straight ahead.

It looked like a
terrified child stuck on a frightening carnival ride.

At least it
appeared docile. Xris had been afraid it might attack poor Jeffrey Grant.

“How long?” he
asked.

“Another fifteen
minutes,” Harry said. “We’ve got to take this slow. Too fast, and we could lose
control, end up with them splattered over the hull. Once we get them safely in,
I’ll lock onto the Claymore.”

“I suppose the
plane’s useless.”

“For the time
being,” Harry conceded. “Hard to fly without a cockpit. But any rebuild and
overhaul facility can put it back together.”

“For a price,”
Tycho said gloomily. “You can kiss the ass of any profits we might have made
off this business. As for the robot taking that Lane out, have you considered
what will happen to intergalactic commerce if word of this leaks out? I have
stock in several major shipping companies—”

“Kiss good-bye,”
Xris corrected. “Not kiss ass. That’s something else entirely. And we’re not
going to make any profit anyway. Tycho, old friend, so just count this as a
dead loss.”

Tycho groaned.

“The job’s
finished, huh?” Jamil said.

“For us it is.
Tess”—Xris nodded at her—”was on the comm with the Admiralty. This robot’s way
too dangerous to turn over to Harsch. They don’t want to risk it. Our orders
are to bring it back to the
King James II.”

Tess was pale,
unhappy. She sat with her head in her hand, her elbow on the console. The other
hand, resting on her thigh, was clenched to a fist.

Jamil was
sympathetic, gave her a pat on the shoulder. “A lot of work down the drain, I’ll
bet.”

“Months,” Tess
said, sighing. She raked her hair back. “And we’ll never have another chance.
This was it. Oh, I know they’re right. The robot’s far too dangerous. It was
okay when we didn’t think it worked, but now we know that it does ... not only
that it works but that it takes out Lanes. But don’t pay any attention to me.”

She shrugged,
looked at them, concerned. “I’m just babbling. You men are the ones who are out
a lot of money. I’ll talk to the Admiralty.”

“Never mind, it’s
not important,” Xris said. Noting Tycho lurning the jaundiced yellow color his
people turned when going into sudden shock, Xris added hastily, “I mean, we’ll
think of something. Maybe we’ll ask the Navy to at least pay for repairs.”

“Obese chance,”
said Tycho.

“I will go back to
the air lock to meet the robot,” Dr. Quong offered. His eyes glistened. He
tapped the tips of his lingers together. “And Grant,” he added as an
afterthought.

“Take care of the
human patient first, will you, Doc?” Xris said.

“What? Oh, of
course. Certainly I will,” Dr. Quong returned stiffly. “The scanners monitoring
Mr. Grant’s condition indicate that he is doing quite well, considering the
fact that he was never trained for such a catastrophic event. His blood
pressure is elevated, his heart rate is accelerated, but not beyond an
acceptable range. I will administer a mild sedative to calm him. As for the
robot” Quong was intense, eager —”what should I do for the robot?”

“We have to shut
it down,” Tess said wearily. “From what we’ve seen, it would be quite capable
of taking control of this ship.”

“It appears
passive enough now,” Dr. Quong stated, staring out the viewscreen as the robot
and Grant slid past, on their way to the air lock, which was located at the
rear of the PRRS. “Still, I will be careful. I believe I know how it can be
deactivated. I’ve been doing some research on it and, as it turns out, I found
quite a useful diagram.”

“I’ll come with
you,” Tess offered. “Where did you find a picture of the robot?”

“The encyclopedia,”
Quong said.

“Told you!” Harry
glanced around, triumphant.

Xris snorted. He
followed Tess and the doctor out into the narrow corridor.

“You go on ahead,
Doc. I want a word with Captain Strauss.”

“Certainly.” Quong
chuckled.

Continuing on down
the corridor, he ran into Raoul and the Little One on their way to the cockpit.
Quong said something in a low voice to Raoul, jerked his thumb over his
shoulder.

Seeing Xris and
Tess, Raoul raised his eyebrows, smiled delightedly, and, catching hold of the
Little One, yanked him out of the corridor with such rapidity that he took the
Little One, but left the fedora behind. The hat fell to the deck. A bejeweled
and manicured hand appeared, snatched up the fedora, waved it in Xris’s
direction, and vanished.

Tess almost
smiled.

Xris growled, took
out a twist. “You want to go to the prom?” he asked her. “My dad gave me the
keys to the hover.”

This time she did
smile. “It’s all right. I understand. Your people think a lot of you, Xris.
They’re not the only ones,” she added softly. Her hand twined in his, fingers
locking.

Xris pulled her
close. “This lousy excuse for a job is just about finished. We drop the ‘bot
off at the
King James,
and it’s over. After that, well, we’re meeting a
friend on the planet Moana. You know it? It’s a paradise.”

“The honeymoon
planet?” Tess said. “I’ve heard of it. I’ve never been there.”

“I’d like to take
you,” Xris said. “You said you had some leave coming....”

She looked up at
him, her expression grave, thoughtful, unusually serious. Her hand in his
tightened. A small, dark furrow drew her brows together. “I’m not sure ... You
see ... the job’s not quite over yet, Xris. I ...” she paused, gazed at him
intently. Her expression cleared; the furrow was gone. She smiled at him, a
true smile. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much. I’ll meet you on any
planet, any place, anytime. It doesn’t have to be a paradise. We can take care
of that ourselves.”

Xris bent to kiss
her, but, at that moment, Harry stuck his head out of the cockpit. “Xris!” he
bellowed, as if Xris were at the other end of the ship. “Oh,” he said, grinning.
“There you are. Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got another message coming through
from the Admiralty. For you, this time. Not Captain Strauss. I think it has
something to do with ... um ... you know. That Adonian cruise liner.” He gave a
wink and a nod, probably thought he was being subtle. “And I’ll be bringing our
passengers on any moment now.”

“It sounds like a
private conversation. I’ll go help Dr. Quong,” Tess offered. She slid her hand
out of Xris’s grasp and was away, walking rapidly down the corridor, before he
could stop her.

Xris turned to go
back to the cockpit. What, he wondered, had she been
about
to say?

A hand plucked at
his sleeve. Xris glanced to his left. Raoul was lurking in a hatchway.

“Well?” Raoul
demanded.

“Well what?” Xris
glared at the Adonian, silently advising him to keep his mouth shut.

The advice was completely
lost on Raoul, who continued on. “Did you ... you know?” He accompanied the
words with a salacious wiggle of his hips, making gestures that would have had
him arrested on some of the more conservative worlds in the galaxy.

“Not that it’s any
of your business,” Xris said through clenched teeth, “but I was with her for
exactly three minutes in a narrow corridor.”

Raoul was clearly
not impressed. “Unimaginative,” was his pronouncement, “and lacking in manual
dexterity.”

“Xris!” Harry
called urgently. His voice cracked.

Xris shouldered
Raoul aside, walked into the cockpit.

“Yes, I’m here.
What is it?”

Harry, seated in
the pilot’s chair, peered over his shoulder. His ordinarily choleric and
cheerful face was blotchy, patches of red mottled with white. He licked his
lips.

Xris felt his
stomach muscles tighten. “What the hell is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Darlene,”
Harry began, and had to stop to clear his throat. “Before we caught it, the
robot took out another Lane. Her ship. The cruise ship ...”

Xris was in the
copilot’s chair. “Put me through to the admiral.”

“They don’t know
anything for sure, Xris,” Harry said. “Darlene sent them her data on the Lanes
the robot might take out next and that Lane was one of them. She knew, Xris.
She knew in time to warn the captain.”

“Well, did she?”
Xris demanded.

“That’s just it,
Xris.” Harry looked sick. “The Navy’s lost contact with the ship ... and with
Darlene.”

“Damn! Fuck it!
Damn!” Xris wanted to hit something, wanted to hit himself.

The “ifs” began
their tormenting litany in Xris’s mind. If he’d never trusted Sakuta. If he’d
never taken this rotten, lousy, fucking job. If he’d kept better track of the
goddamned robot. If ... if ... if ...

Not one of them
any damn good to him now.

“Xris,” Quong’s
voice came over the comm. “I have recovered Mr. Grant and the robot. Mr. Grant
is suffering from shock but is otherwise unharmed. I have given him a mild
sedative and put him to bed. As for the robot—”

“Disable it!” Xris
said, his voice thick.

“I—”

“Disable the
blasted thing!” Xris swore viciously. “If you can’t or won’t, I’ll come down
there and crack it apart myself!”

“That will not be
necessary.” Quong’s voice was deliberate, cool. “As I was about to say, the
robot is not functional. I’m not certain why; it may have something to do with
the ejection. According to Grant, the ride was a rough one. I will, of course,
examine it thoroughly.”

“Fine. Good. You
do that, Doc,” Xris said bitterly.

“What is the
matter, my friend? You sound—”

“The damn robot
took out one more Lane before we stopped it. This time there was a ship in it.
An Adonian cruise liner—”

“Oh, dear God,” he
heard Tess say softly in the background.

“An Adonian cruise
ship.” Quong was silent a moment, then said, “Have you—has anyone—heard from
Darlene?”

“They’ve lost
contact,” Xris said quietly. “But it was her ship. The one she was aboard.”

“We don’t know
that for sure,” Harry argued stubbornly.