Pushkin’s voice crackled slightly. “There is some electromagnetic disturbance. I hear you, but reception is not good… Maybe somebody called off the dogs.”
“How’s that again?”
“I said maybe somebody called off the dogs, comrade.”
“If they did, they had a reason, comrade. And it is probably one that we are not going to like. We have some good pix of the rings. Let’s get the hell out.”
“Wait!” Alexei pointed. On the denuded ground, about seventy metres ahead, there was a glint of metal. The sunlight turned it into a blinding mirror. Kwango thought it was hexagonal—like the indentations on the derelict star-ship.
“Shall we investigate, comrade?” asked Alexei. The static and the crackling was getting worse.
“No. It is all too neat. We’ll get the hell out. Dat ole Kwango sixth sense tells me dat somethin’ is brewin’. So we ain’t going to stay for de big surprise.”
But Pushkin appeared not to have heard him, or to have heard him and disobeyed, or to have heard something different.
He strode forward.
Kwango saw flashes in the sunlight.
“Down!” he shouted, flinging his own exo flat.
Pushkin either didn’t hear or didn’t care. The missile hit his exo-skeleton dead centre. It exploded, flew apart. Fragments of the exo-skeleton and bloody fragments of Pushkin come down like surrealist rain. Kwanga was up and running before the pieces stopped falling. He ducked another missile and leaped high over a third. Then he went into overdrive, taking the exo back to the
Santa Maria
at seventy k.p.h.
Phase Five
CONRAD STIRS IT UP
Conrad’s face was grim. He gazed sombrely at the four other Expendables sitting round the saloon table.
“How Is the patient?” he asked Lieutenant Smith.
“Sedated. Apart from the neck, I can find no other wound. Heartbeat still rather weak, breathing somewhat shallow. I’ve given antibiotics though there is as yet no trace of infection. Too early. I’ll know more about that probably by the end of tomorrow… Uhlmann was in good physical condition. Unless we are very unlucky, she should be fit for light duty in about three days.”
“We are already very unlucky,” retorted Conrad, “if you want to call it that… Well, let us consider the state of play. We have lost a good engineer and an exo-skeleton, our chemist is out of action, and friend Khelad has lost six of his mines. All this in one day.” He glanced fiercely at Ahmed Khelad. “The ship has been searched, the compound has been searched. Those damned robots have even gone through my personal locker. Not a trace… if I ever find you were playing funny games, Khelad, I personally will disassemble you. Are you sure six are lost?”
Ahmed sounded pained. “I am sure, Commander. I have no means of proving what I say, but I am sure.”
“And you still think the culprit is Zonis?”
The Arab shrugged. “It gives me no pleasure to say yes.”
“Commander,” said Ruth, “does it not occur to you that Khelad’s attitude has a historical precedent? For a long time it has been traditional for the Arabs to blame their own failures and short-comings on the Israelis.”
Conrad sighed. “Propaganda is not relevant, Zonis. Facts are. Do you have any facts?”
She remained silent.
“Then listen to me, both of you,” went on Conrad. “And listen good. Because of the new situation, we are going to have to crash the crash programme. How many mines have you got now, Khelad?”
“Three hundred and twenty.”
“That is going to have to be enough—for the time being. Tomorrow, you and Zonis will start laying a random minefield round the defence perimeter. You will record their positions carefully and accurately. You will concentrate two thirds of your mines round the southern perimeter and one third round the northern.”
“Boss,” said Kwango, “the ring system is to the- north.”
“I know. You are supposed to be the resident genius. You work it out.”
Lieutenant Smith said: “You think we will be attacked?”
“I know we will be attacked. The only question is when. Those monkey robots have proved that we are vulnerable. They took out Pushkin and his exo with the greatest of ease. Their intention to escalate is obvious. First they hit us with grenades, then they bring in powered missiles. Their programme suggests one overriding command: exterminate intruders regardless of cost… Well, if they can’t achieve this in the next forty-eight hours, we will take the initiative. As for this so-called tree that trapped Uhlmann and drank her blood while putting her into happyland, we will make a study of its incidence and characteristics when we have dealt with the robots and the rings. The fact that it is not very prolific would indicate that it is not much of a problem… All right, let’s break it up and get some sleep. Matthew is on the nav deck, supervising the defence system. Three armed robots are patrolling the perimeter, two are on board to take care of the fifth column. Kwango, see me in my cabin in five minutes.”
Kwango took the drink that Conrad offered him. It was genuine Southern Comfort. He sipped it and savoured it with respect.
“Not from general stores,” said Conrad. “That was shipped on my personal weight allowance.” He poured himself a drink and gave a grim laugh. “Emergency rocket fuel. By the Lord Harry, I need it.”
“Commander, you look dead tired.”
“I am dead tired. I’m not as tough as I thought.”
“How’s the arm?”
“To hell with the arm, Kurt. I’m thinking of pulling out. And how do you like that?”
Kwango scratched his head, “Scuse me, Massa Boss. Seems like only yesterday I heard a man who looks just like you declarin’ he was going for broke.”
Conrad passed a hand wearily over his forehead. “I know… I know. Since then I have been thinking. We are expendable—but the
Santa Maria
isn’t. It cost half the annual budget of a country like Israel to build it and put it here. Now that we are getting guided missiles thrown at us, have I the right to risk that kind of investment?”
Kwango was silent for a moment or two. Then he said: “The fail-safe mentality has its limitations. If we skip back to Terra with—metaphorically speaking—our tail between our legs, those Third World people are going to laugh themselves sick. When they recover from that, they will have ExPEND for breakfast. The money will be rerouted to buying tractors for people who don’t know how to use them and wouldn’t want to use them if they could… Kratos justified our existence, Boss. If we get smashed on Tantalus, it doesn’t much matter. Mankind is already out of the Solar System. But if we prove Tantalus, those Third World people are going to curl up and send for the shrink. End of opposition to ExPEND—and, to put it fancifully, de laughing animal continues trekking gaily out to de stars… My, dat Southern Comfort sure is potent.”
Conrad could not suppress a yawn. “You are right, Kurt. We have to go for broke. But if the
Santa Maria
does not return to Terra, the Third World people will probably get the programme smashed, anyway… Now, before I fall asleep and you get hit by the booze, give me another Kwango scenario. Make it sound optimistic. I’ve had enough bad news for one day.”
Kwango grinned. “Boss, if I was to make it optimistic, you’d think it was science fiction. Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow?”
“Pour both of us another drink, then talk. That is an order.”
“O.K. If that’s the way you want it.” Kwango fixed the drinks. “Apart from the ring system and nasty little robots that toss bombs and guided missiles, we know the planet is O.K. for man. The tree—or whatever it is—that had it off with Lisa while drinking her blood is fairly rare. No other specimen has been found growing in the area already surveyed. It is nothing more than a very sophisticated, king-size Venus fly-trap. It’s vulnerable. Wherever we find it, we can hit it at will. All we have to do is develop a kind of selective weed-killer. But if that is not possible—which I doubt—we simply do what Lieutenant Smith did: burn it.”
Kwango took another sip of his Southern Comfort. “I. am puzzled why we ain’t seen no people. We get things thrown at us, but we don’t meet any of the people who presumably don’t want us around.”
“There’s an obvious answer to that,” said Conrad. “They let their robots do the dirty work. Less messy.”
“There’s another answer,” said Kwango, finishing his drink. “A nice simple one. There ain’t no people. Or not many… If there were, we’d have been taken out before now.”
Conrad was suddenly alert. “You could be right.”
“It is customary,” said Kwango. “And if there ain’t no people, all we have done in touching down on Tantalus is to set off the burglar alarm and disturb the electronic dogs. Trouble is, we don’t know how many dogs we have disturbed.”
“We’ll find out,” said Conrad grimly. “Incidentally, there is one thing we don’t have to worry about. I know where the missing mines are.”
Kwango gazed at him astounded. “Then why the funny act with Khelad and Zonis? Now you really have them at each other’s throats.”
“Precisely. Before, Ruth only suspected Ahmed. Now she thinks she knows for sure. Probably, Ahmed did not even seriously suspect her. But now he is convinced she is the saboteur. They watch each other like hawks. That way, they neutralise each other.”
“Where are the mines, Boss?”
“I stowed them in the emergency escape hatch
after
it had been searched. Now, let’s get some sleep.”
Kwango smiled. “Commander, you are a real mean bastard.”
“Meaner than you think, black man. I have Uhlmann sewn up, too.”
“Because she is sick?”
“No, because she will soon get better.”
Kwango scratched his head. “Sometimes, I think I just don’t understand you, Commander, sir.”
“That affords some small satisfaction, Kurt… Now, let’s get some sleep.”
Phase Six
A BAD DAY FOR EXPENDABLES
Next day brought more trouble—some of it expected, some of it unexpected. In the morning, while Khelad and Zonis were busy laying the minefield, Kwango took the hovercar and reconnoitred to the south. He also had with him the robot, Peter, and two laser rifles. Specifically, he was looking for another of the bloodsucking trees that had almost taken care of Lisa Uhlmann.
Lieutenant Smith stayed in the
Santa Maria
to observe and attend to her patient. Under protest, and on Conrad’s orders, she had shot Lisa full of a special stimulant. The wound was healing well, but Indira would have preferred to continue sedating her patient and ensuring that she rested for a few more days. Lisa did not know she had been given a stimulant. The needle went in while she was sleeping profoundly. She sighed in her sleep, and uttered a vague groan of protest. But that was all. The stimulant had been specially developed for the Space Service. It was the kind of wonder juice that could make a man or woman who had lost, for example, an arm, get up from the sick-bed and operate with superhuman energy for several hours. But, naturally, there was a price to pay later. Sometimes, it was death; but usually
it
was a nasty little once-off heart attack. Conrad knew all about the properties of Superform. He had been shot full of it a long time ago when he was still a full captain in the U.N.S.S. He had not cared too much for the subsequent heart attack; but it had been worth the precious time needed to take his vessel out of danger. He had explained the reasons for his decisions to Lieutenant Smith. He had also told her what to do when Superform began to take effect. And he had also given her a tiny, pill-sized gadget to insert in Lisa Uhlmann’s neck dressing.
Meanwhile, Kwango found his tree. It was about thirty
k
ilom
etres
south-west of the
Santa Maria
, somewhat larger than the one described by Lieutenant Smith. But it was in much the same sort of situation—very close to a large tract of grassland where herds of herbivores roamed.
On the journey, Kwango had developed his own special investigation technique; and he had programmed the robot, Peter, with the necessary instructions.
First, an investigation was to be made of the area of ground at least fifty metres and not more than a hundred metres from the base of the tree. After that, Peter would approach the tree as closely as possible, armed with a laser rifle. Kwango would cover him from a safe distance and note the tree’s response. The third test consisted of Kwango making the approach while Peter covered him.
The entire arrangement was very rough and ready; but Kwango was mindful that information about the tree was needed very quickly.
As he had expected, a careful search revealed the bones of many scattered animals. They lay in undergrowth, some covered by tall grasses and shrubs, many in various stages of decomposition.
A pattern emerged. The tree waited for its victim to approach within striking distance, then shot out its tendrils and dragged the creature in to suck from it the nutria merit needed. When it had finished, the remains—f presumably nothing but skin and bone—were tossed as far away as the tree could manage so that future visitors would not be discouraged. Someday, if he had time, Kwango intended to analyse the ecological function of the shrubs surrounding the blood-sucking trees. He had a notion that they were symbiotic, depending on the tree for the materials that would keep them alive and healthy. Certainly, they had a great capacity for removing traces of tell-tale bones.
When Peter approached close to what later came to be called the ecstasy tree, it made not the slightest response to the robot’s presence.
“Reach up and tug at one of those hanging fronds,” called Kwango. He spoke much louder than necessary, trying to ascertain if the tree would respond to noise.
“Decision noted. Execution proceeds,” returned Peter. “Query. Is it required that I detach a sample?”
“If there is no reaction to your pulling,
detach
three samples, each one metre long, and return them to me.”
“Decision noted.”
There was no response to the robot’s pulling. The tree appeared totally indifferent to Peter’s presence, even when the robot methodically collected the required samples.
Kwango examined one of the specimens closely. It felt very strong and rubbery. In cross-section it looked almost like a miniature honeycomb, containing a number of tiny hexagonal tubes.
Kwango put the specimen down. “I am now going in close, Peter. You will cover me with the laser rifle. No matter what happens, unless you are sure that my life is in 4anger, you will take no action for forty-five seconds. If, as I expect, the tree takes hold of me in such a way that I cannot free myself, you will systematically laser whatever holds me. If I cannot then move myself, you will come in and retrieve me. Do you
understand
?”
“Sequence understood, procedure understood. Decisions noted,” responded Peter tranquilly.
Kwango made his approach. He did not get very far. When he was barely twenty metres from the base of the tree, the liana-like tendrils whipped out with fantastic speed and gripped him. At the same time, his laser rifle was torn from his hand, and within five seconds he was
spread-eagled
hard against the trunk, unable to move. He struggled, but only for a moment or two. He became aware of a sweet, overpowering scent; and the will to struggle died. He experienced pleasant sensations. The tree seemed now to be holding him gently, caressing him, stroking him, releasing strange voluptuous visions in his mind. He saw Ruth Zonis, naked, beautiful, beckoning. The world be-: came deliciously dark…
The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back, blinking uncomprehendingly at the sky. He collected his wits—slowly. He was aware of a smell of burning. Peter was squirting something onto his neck.
*‘What the hell are you doing?” he demanded shakily.
“Cleaning the wound, sir, and applying a coagulant. It is only a very small wound. Query: shall I give it a film of synthaskin?”
“You do that,” said Kwango, still not entirely in possession of his faculties. “Tell me later what happened.”
For
the time being, he could only remember the haunting nearness and sexuality of Ruth Zonis.
“Decisions noted,” said Peter. “Execution proceeds.”
Kwango managed to sit up, and saw that nearly half the tree had been burned away.
Lisa Uhlmann was making a remarkable recovery. That much, Conrad had already ascertained from Lieutenant Smith who was with her in the sick bay. Uhlmann’s temperature was back to normal, her blood pressure was good and the neck wound was healing nicely.
Conrad, having made his rounds, was sitting at the desk in His cabin. He had inspected the vessel and the compound. He had also been outside the stockade and assured himself that Khelad and Zonis were laying the minefield. The indefatigable Matthew was on the navigation deck at the communications console. All was well. The robots had their instructions—very precise instructions.
With Alexei’s death, the problem of the potential saboteur had been simplified. Now there were only three to worry about, Khelad and Zonis were—temporarily, at least r—neutralising each other. There remained the enigma of Lisa Uhlmann. It was all a question of timing…
Conrad reached a decision. He called Lieutenant Smith in the sick bay.
“I have just knocked my arm against the bulkhead. It has begun to bleed again—not much, fortunately. But there is a fair amount of pain. Can you come down to my cabin and look at the damage?”
“I’ll be down in two minutes.”
“Good. How is Lisa?”
“In great spirits. She has disposed of a very good break-last. She will probably be fit for limited duty tomorrow… I’m on my way. Out.”
When Lieutenant Smith reached Conrad’s cabin, he said: “You left the laser rifle?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think your actions seemed natural?”
Indira shrugged. “I hope so, but how can I know? I think you are wrong, James. I think you are wasting—-”
Matthew’s voice came over the intercom. “Commander, Miss Uhlmann has just lasered Luke and John in corridors A and C respectively.”
“Message received, Matthew. Take no action.”
“Decision noted.”
Lieutenant Smith gazed at Conrad despairingly. “
How
could you know?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I merely created the conditions for finding out.”
Matthew came in again. “Miss Uhlmann appears to be making her way to your cabin, Commander. Do you wish her to be intercepted?”
“No, Matthew. Intercept only if she approaches a sensitive area as previously defined. Over and out.”
Conrad took two small metal cubes out of his pocket. Each was a radio transmitter. Each had a button. One was red, one was green. He pressed the red button, and placed the transmitter on his desk. The other he held in his prosthetic hand. Then he turned to Indira and held out his injured arm. “Make it look authentic, Lieutenant. Inspect the damage.”
While Lieutenant Smith was taking off the bandages, Lisa Uhlmann burst into the cabin. She held the laser rifle firmly, ready to burn them both.
“Uhlmann, what the hell are you up to?” asked Conrad angrily, affecting great surprise.
There was a wild l
o
ok in Lisa Uhlmann’s eyes. “Commander,” she said icily. “I regret to report the party is over. You will never prove Tantalus. Believe me, I wish it were not necessary to kill; but there is no other way. The
Santa Maria
and all of us will stay on Tantalus. The
ExPEND project will be discredited. This, at least, gives the people of the Third World a fighting chance.”
“So you are the one,” said Conrad. He did not seem greatly perturbed.
“Yes, I am the one.” She lifted one hand from the laser rifle for a moment and scratched nervously at the bandage round her neck.
“Just now you spoke of a fighting chance. That is exactly what you will be giving the Third World—in fact, all of Terra—if the ExPEND project is finished. Eventually, they will be fighting each other for land, raw materials, food.”
She gave him a cold smile. “I am not going
to
be drawn into discussion. I regret this, but you and Lieutenant Smith have two minutes left. Use them for farewells, prayers, whatever you like. But don’t plead. Otherwise, I will laser you instantly.”
Conrad stood up. “Before Alexei Pushkin died,” he said tranquilly, “I asked him to fit one laser rifle with an electronic override. This he did. The weapon was tested. You now hold it. It is useless.”
Lisa Uhlmann was not to be shaken. “I would have expected better from you, Commander. I have just lasered two of your robots.”
“I know. I hope they can be repaired. Now laser me.” ‘
t
Expertly she aimed for his forehead. Nothing happened. She pressed the stud again. Still nothing. She froze in bewilderment.
Conrad calmly reached for the tiny transmitter with the green button. He placed it close to the edge of the desk. “Lisa Uhlmann, I hereby charge you with mutiny, destruction of U.N. property and attempted murder. According to Space Regulations you will be tried by court-martial on Terra when this mission is completed. Meanwhile, you will be placed in suspended animation until this project is completed.”
“Damn you!” In rage and frustration, she flung the useless laser rifle at Conrad with all her force. Expertly, he caught it with his prosthetic hand and placed it on the desk by the transmitter.
Lisa Uhlmann turned to rush from the cabin. She never made it.
Conrad pressed the green button.
She felt a stinging sensation in the side of her neck, raised one hand feebly towards the bandage, then slumped silently to the deck.
Indira knelt by her, checking heart-beat and breathing. Finally, she looked up at Conrad. “Sometimes, James,” she said heavily, “I think you, too, are a bloody robot.”
“Compliments, compliments,” said Conrad lightly. “Last night, Kwango called me a real mean bastard.”
“He was dead right—as always.”
Briefly, Conrad’s mask fell away. “I’m going to prove this planet for colonisation, and I don’t care what it costs j so long as I succeed.” His voice seemed to have a cutting edge. “Now, cut the subjective evaluations and get on with your job, Lieutenant. Put Uhlmann in the cooler, then go and tell Khelad and Zonis they can be nice to each other.”
“Ay ay, sir.” Indira’s tone conveyed much sarcasm. “What makes you think, mighty Caesar, that you can command a cessation of the Arab-Israeli hostilities you have encouraged?”
“Hate is a marvellous tool—if you know how to use it,” observed Conrad. “Tell them I took the mines. They will stop hating each other and only hate me.”
But that was part of Conrad’s calculations which came unstuck.
While the unconscious form of Lisa Uhlmann was being removed by the robot Paul, under Lieutenant Smith’s supervision, back to the sick bay where she would receive a thorough medical check before being prepared for suspended animation procedure, Conrad ordered Matthew to investigate the condition of the two lasered robots.