Lisa Uhlmann had aimed well.
Matthew reported back: “Vizors and vision circuits in both robots completely destroyed, Commander. Breastplates punctured, memory banks have sustained heavy damage, power systems have sustained moderate damage. Luke’s systems have suffered approximately seven point five per cent less damage than John’s systems. With spare components from store and the facilities available, it is possible to recover one robot only. Recommendation: that Luke should be recovered.”
“Recommendations accepted, Execute.”
“Decision noted. Execution proceeds.”
Meanwhile, having seen to the welfare of Lisa Uhlmann, Lieutenant Smith tried to raise Khelad and Zonis on the radio. She failed. She went to the nav deck and glanced at the screens. Neither of the Expendables was visible. But that in itself was not necessarily significant. The vids could not show what was happening immediately outside the stockade. The vid cameras were set at an angle that would allow at least fifty metres of dead ground.
Indira went outside to investigate. Pretty soon, she found Ruth Zonis.
Ruth was lying flat on her back, only half-conscious, her clothing torn, her face bruised and bloody, her legs wide open.
She could talk, but not too well. “Khelad raped me,” she said thickly. “Maybe it was my fault. I don’t know. Maybe I pushed him too hard.” She raised herself a little and smiled weakly. “But, anyway, it must be clear he is the saboteur… Don’t worry about me, Lieutenant. I’ll live through it. Just get Khelad and take him out.”
Indira stroked her hair. “Khelad wasn’t the saboteur, Ruth. It was Lisa Uhlmann. Where is Ahmed?”
“I don’t know. All the time, he was shouting wildly in Arabic.” She gave a faint smile. “An Israeli woman is no match for an Arab male when he comes up from behind and hits her on the head… He is not in the compound?”
“No, he is not in the compound.”
“Then he has gone over the hill, hasn’t he?” Ruth sighed. “Three down. How are we going to prove Tantalus, now?”
“We’ll prove it,” said Indira fiercely. “No matter what it costs.” Suddenly, she realised she was echoing Conrad’s sentiments. She was strangely glad.
She reported back to him, telling him what she had found.
Then she turned to Ruth. “Can you get up and walk, or shall I send for a robot?”
“I can walk,” said Ruth with great intensity. “No bloody Arab is going to have
that
satisfaction.”
Phase Seven
KHELAD FALLS OUT OF A TREE
Conrad talked to Kwango. “How far are you away now, Kurt?”
“About fifty kilometres south-west. I had an intimate time with one of those things that tried to knock off Lisa.”
“You hurt?”
“Not much. Anything been happening back home?”
“Not much,” returned Conrad grimly. “Uhlmann lasered two robots, then came to burn me and blow the project. She’s being readied for S.A.”
Kwango let out a whistle.
“Don’t do that over the radio,” snapped Conrad.
“Sorry, Boss… She was the one. Now we can relax.”
“Kwango, you have a talent for saying the wrong thing. Zonis has been raped by Khelad, and he has gone over the ;hill. Now get that thing on high drive and jet back fast. Find Khelad. We are two Expendables and one robot down. I want Khelad back before a clockwork monkey tosses him a present. By the way, the mine-field is laid. Make your approach to the stockade entrance tangentially; then you won’t blow any of the things. You read me?”
“I read you, Commander. Is Khelad armed?”
“No. Not unless he thought to take a couple of mines. And even if he did he wouldn’t want to carry them long.”
“Boss, is Ruth O.K.?”
Conrad gave a grim laugh. “For a genius you are pretty stupid. She can walk and she isn’t screaming. But her face doesn’t look too good and I don’t think she’d like to play tennis. Move, Kwango! Get Khelad and don’t make a mess of him.”
“Ay ay, sir.” Kwango felt the small wound on his neck. It didn’t bother him too much.
From ten kilometres, Kwango began to spiral in towards the
Santa Maria
. He figured that ten kilometres was the most Khelad could have
travelled
. The ground favoured th$ hunted not the hunter. But, Kwango reasoned, Ahmed Khelad would probably be in a state of panic. Would he have enough nerve to lie still in the long grasses or, perhaps, climb a tree and hide in the foliage if the hover-car came near? Kwango thought not. He wondered if there was any way to increase the sense of panic and force the fugitive to break cover. He thought there was. He turned to the robot, Peter. “What is your maximum speed on foot?”
“Query, sir: maximum speed for what terrain?”
“The terrain we are passing over now, stupid.”
“Query, sir: why am I designated stupid?”
“Cancel statement, Peter. My mistake. Supply required data. The ground is firm but uneven, the grass is long. What is your maximum speed under such conditions?”
“Maximum speed estimated at eighteen kilometres per hour plus or minus seven point five per cent, allowing for variation of terrain.”
“Then I will stop the hovercar and you will get out. You will take a laser rifle and you will proceed ahead of. me and you will make zig-zag sweeps at an angle of forty4 five degrees, each sweep to extend two hundred metres.
You will use the laser rifle only at my command.” Kwango stopped the hovercar.
“Decision noted. Execution proceeds.” Peter got out.
The hovercar had a loud hailer. Kwango used it. “Ahmed, I’m coming after you. So is Peter. He has a laser rifle and he is programmed for homicide. If you don’t want to burn, surrender now.”
Kwango put the statement on a loop replay at intervals of fifteen seconds. The hovercar continued to spiral slowly in towards the
Santa Maria
with Peter preceding it, running tirelessly and methodically over the ground in the appointed pattern.
Khelad was trapped less than four kilometres from the stockade. Kwango almost ran him down. Ahmed leaped up out of the grass directly ahead of the advancing hovercar. He raised his hands over his head, and he was obviously shouting something. Kwango didn’t hear what it was until he grounded and got out of the hovercar.
“Don’t let that bloody robot burn me, Kurt! Take me to Conrad. Let me talk to him. That bitch Zonis brought it all on herself. She taunted me and taunted me. She wouldn’t stop… All that stuff about Israelis being superior to Arabs… It got at my pride… I had to do something… She is the saboteur, Kurt. She took the mines.”
“Ahmed,” said Kwango calmly, “Ruth did not take the mines. Conrad did. He wanted you both to watch each other like snakes.”
“Oh, my god!”
“Also, she is not the saboteur. Uhlmann is. Even now, the good Commander has her routed for the cooler.”
“Oh, my god!” repeated Khelad weakly. “Can I lower my arms?”
“Yes, you light-skinned great-grandson of a slaver. You can do what you damn like. Conrad told me not to mess you up. But there is a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will. Ahmed, my friend, you have just fallen out of a tree.”
“Have I?” said Khelad, uncomprehendingly.
“That is what it looks like to me,” said Kwango. Expertly he chopped Khelad in the throat. Then, even before the Arab could fall, Kwango kicked him in the crutch. When Khelad hit the ground, Kwango rolled him over and stamped on his belly. Then, almost as an afterthought, he smashed the flat of his hand down on Khelad’s nose. Presently, when Ahmed Khelad could get his breath and stop groaning, he managed to vomit.
“I have some affection for Ruth Zonis,” explained Kwango tranquilly. “That is why you fell out of a high tree. Under the circumstances, it is amazing that you didn’t break any bones.” He lifted the still retching Khelad to his feet. “Now, let’s go talk to the good Commander. Feel free to tell him what you want. I shall not complain. It was worth it.”
Conrad gazed at Ahmed Khelad, who swayed a little, dabbed at his swollen and still bloody nose, occasionally felt tenderly at his throat, his belly and his crutch. Ruth Zonis was present, as also were Lieutenant Smith and Kurt Kwango.
“So you still claim you fell out of a tree when the hovercar passed close by?”
“Yes, Commander. The approach was—was very unexpected… I panicked.”
“Lieutenant Smith, do you think Khelad’s injuries could be consonant with falling out of a tree?”
“They could be,” said Indira carefully. “But it is unlikely.” She glanced briefly at Kwango.
Conrad followed her glance. Then he turned to Khelad. “Be that as it may. You are back. You are expendable, Khelad—but you are expendable on ray terms not on yours. You are charged with rape and desertion. How do you plead?”
Khelad shrugged, and let out a sigh. “Guilty.”
“Have you anything to say in your defence?”
“What is there to say?”
“You could plead extreme provocation.”
Suddenly Khelad drew himself up. “Commander, I do not wish to plead extreme provocation. I have done stupid things which I regret.” He looked at Ruth Zonis, her face still badly bruised, one eye swollen and almost closed. “But I will not shame my race by showing cowardice.”
Conrad said: “Then I find you guilty as charged. Before I pass sentence, will anyone speak in defence of this man?”
Kwango shook his head.
Indira remained silent.
Ruth Zonis said: “Yes, Commander. There are extenuating circumstances.”
“What are they?”
“My reactions to Ahmed Khelad since we came to Tantalus. It is common knowledge that I thought him to be the saboteur. It is also common knowledge that I taunted him and provoked him. He did dreadful things to me, and I hope that, in time, the memories will fade… But I am aware of my own responsibility, Commander—and of yours!”
Conrad scratched his silver eye-patch irritably. “Zonis, I must ask you to explain that final remark.”
“You stole the mines,” said Ruth Zonis coolly. “You deliberately increased the tension that already existed between myself and Ahmed Khelad. I appreciate your reasons; but that does not exonerate you from being an accessory to rape. Therefore, I submit that you are not competent to consider this case impartially.”
Conrad gazed at her, open-mouthed. After a moment or two, he collected his wits. “Zonis, you are out of your mind!”
“Is she, Commander?” said Lieutenant Smith. “Is there no truth in what she has said?” Then she added with a faint smile: “Upon examination, I found Ruth Zonis to be in full possession of her faculties. Her attitudes and behaviour were entirely rational.”
Conrad was astounded. “You, too!”
Indira was not to be intimidated. “I find her argument valid, that is all.”
Conrad turned to Kwango. “Well, Kwango, are you also about to join this instant society for the protection of rapists and deserters?”
“Please,” began Khelad. “I do not wish to cause any more—”
“Shut up!” snapped Conrad. “You’ve had your turn, Khelad.” He gazed at the black man. “Well, Kwango. I’m waiting for you to utter.”
Kwango shrugged, and glanced meaningfully at Ruth Zonis. “Include me out, Commander. I am an interested party.”
“O.K., everyone, we have had the funnies. Now hear this. Whether you like it or not, here on Tantalus, I am the law—by virtue of the authority vested in me under U.N.S.S. Penal Code, Article Three… Ahmed Khelad, you have been charged on two counts: rape and desertion.
On the first count, my impartiality has been called ifl question. Therefore, I will suspend the charge until such time as you can be tried impartially. On the second count, I find you guilty. It being impractical to impose the statutory punishment of five years confinement at this time, this sentence is suspended until such time as you return to the Solar System. However, if during the rest of this mission your behaviour should prove to be exemplary, I will add a recommendation for clemency. These decisions will be recorded in the log.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Khelad dabbed at his nose.
“Thank me for nothing!” snapped Conrad. He turned to Kwango. “As for the tree with the black trunk which was responsible for making a mess of Khelad, contrary
to
order, I fine
it
—”
“One booze ration,” said Kwango with resignation.
“Three booze rations,” corrected Conrad maliciously.
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Thank me for nothing… Now, you have all had fun —of one kind or another. The saboteur is in the cooler, so we can resume normal duty. Get some rest. You are going to need it.”
Phase Eight
GO FOR BROKE
Although there were now only five operational Expendables and four operational robots, life was much easier; and, to Conrad, the future seemed fractionally more optimistic. It was now no longer necessary to guard the star-ship and the compound from attack from within as well as from without. Matthew, had reported that one of the lasered robots would be operational in three more days. Major repairs, involving some “cannibalisation”, had already been carried out. The time was needed mainly to test the circuitry, responses, audio-visual functions and mechanical co-ordination.
For this reason, and because Zonis and Khelad were still showing the effects of their different ordeals, Conrad decided to wait a few more days before he made an all-out attempt to crack the mystery of the rings. He wanted his personnel—both humans and robots—to be at optimum performance.
Meanwhile, there was work to be done. Kwango gave Lieutenant Smith, Zonis and Khelad advanced training in the use of exo-skeletons. Kwango was the expert. He could make an eight-metre, three-ton exo do things that Conrad had formerly believed impossible. In an exo, Kwango could run over good ground at nearly one hundred k.p.h. He could leap ten metres into the air or forty metres in a long jump. He could hurl fifty kilos of rock five hundred metres. Kwango was a phenomenon.
Pretty soon, his students got some glimmering of the Kwango technique. He had explained his secret.
“Once in harness,” he said, “you’ve got to forget about your little bio-self. The exo magnifies you. It turns you into a temporary cyborg. Think big, feel through those metal limbs. When you get into harness, forget that you are a weak little animal. You have become god-like. Believe that those metal legs and arms are your legs and arms. Believe that you have almost inexhaustible sources of energy. You aren’t you any more—you are super-cyborg—the god in the machine. When you achieve that kind of empathy, you will be able to feel through those metal fingers and feet. The atomic motors will become the motors that drive you and that you can command.”
This, for Kwango, was a kind of poetry. Listening to the tirade, Conrad had been amazed. He had never suspected Kwango of indulging in such imaginative flights. But if that was the approach that paid off, then it was the right one.
Conrad wanted all of his diminished band to be expert in the use of exo-skeletons. Sooner or later, their lives and the success or failure of the expedition might depend on it.
Conrad’s broken arm had mended nice
ly. Lieutenant Smith injected hi
m regularly with something called Rege-neron. It speeded up the process of metabolism and, consequently, the production of new cells. The main drawback was that it made the patient almost incessantly hungry for fats and proteins. Also, it slightly accelerated the ageing process. Neither of which bothered Conrad greatly. He was perfectly happy to eat large helpings of Terran steak and fat; and he was not greatly concerned about the prospect of a minimally premature senility. He thought the odds were that he would die with his boots on. After all, he was the first, the very first, Expendable.
It was a great relief not to have to worry any more about sabotage. Now, Conrad could give his whole mind to the problems of Tantalus. Of course,
he reflected, now that the sabotage thing had been sewn up, there was no reason why the crash programme should be continued. Except that if he took it more slowly, the chances were that there would be more casualties. Those bomb-throwing, missile-happy little robots would find other opportunities to take someone out. Conrad did not want to accept any more losses.
While the robot Luke was being made operational, it was Conrad’s intention to confine all activity to within the defence perimeter. There was plenty of work to occupy Zonis, the biologist; and Khelad had been instructed to design and manufacture a radio-controlled laser battery which could be mounted on a high platform in the compound and used to dominate the terrain outside up to a radius of one point five kilometres. When Kwango was not engaged in exo-instruction, he was either helping Zonis, or collating and running various Kwango scenarios through the computer. Conrad himself had enough administrative work to keep him fully occupied. Lieutenant Smith was the only one with a little time on her hands. She used it to catch up on much lost sleep.
All went well until the late afternoon of the second day, when the light was beginning to fade and the fiery ball of Regulus was about to sink over the western horizon.
The indefatigable Matthew, on duty at the screens on the nav deck, reported to Conrad: “Commander, there is considerable movement outside the defence perimeter.
Range one thousand two hundred metres approximately. A number of entities, recently designated as prehensile indigenous robots, are approaching the defence perimeter. Provisional estimate of number thirty plus or minus twenty to forty per cent. It is difficult to evaluate because—”
“What direction?” asked Conrad.
“From the planetary west.”
“At this time of day, it would be. How much daylight have we left?”
“Approximately eleven point three minutes S.E.T.”
“Sound action stations.”
“Decision noted, Execution proceeds.”
Conrad had already planned for just this contingency. Everybody knew where to go, what to do.
Kwango was into his exo-skeleton and harnessed within one minute. Khelad took nearly forty seconds longer.
Conrad called them by radio. “
Get
out over the eastern section of the perimeter. Take lasers. Circle wide and come directly behind them, but don’t open up until they do. Then burn anything that moves. We’ll try to keep their attention. Over and out.”
Believing that an attack might come by night, Conrad had required the robots to erect a system of floodlights which could be used to illuminate all the ground outside the perimeter to a range of five hundred metres.
Meanwhile, Conrad ordered the robots to make the vessel ready for lift-off if the perimeter defen
c
e were seriously breached; and Ruth Zonis and Lieutenant Smith armed with lasers, took up positions near the base of the torus. They could, upon command, withdraw into the
Santa Maria
. Conrad took over from Matthew on the nav deck.
The light was fading; but he did not want to switch on the floodlights until he had to. He was not sure how long they would last before they were taken out.
Conrad glanced at the screens. Kwango and Khelad were successfully away and fading into the darkness. They were going at great speed, but it would be at least three or four minutes before they could come up behind the attackers.
The tiny robots made good use of the cover and the fading light. Fortunately, there was no wind, so where grass moved, it was safe to assume that a robot was moving, too. Conrad reassessed their number at between forty-five and fifty-five. He hoped he was right. But, for all he knew, this could simply be a diversionary assault with a larger force poised to strike from another direction.
The battle opened with enemy casualties.
The first attackers had reached Khelad’s minefield. There were two simultaneous flashes of light followed by another. Conrad was amazed at what he saw. Fragments of the tiny robots rose high into the air. Evidently the mines were considerably more powerful than he had originally required. He was devoutly grateful. But later, Khelad would have to explain.
The attack was halted temporarily. Conrad took advantage of the lull to establish contact with his four Expendables.
“Kwango, how goes it?”
“We are five kilometres away from the stockade. No contact established. Something tells me they, too, are going for broke. We are about to sweep round and should come in behind them about five minutes from now.”
“Warn me when you are ready to strike.”
“O.K. Boss. Out.”
“Indira?”
“Yes, James.”
“All well?”
“Yes. What were the explosions?”
“Khelad’s mines. He made them one hundred and forty proof. You are sure of your retreat procedure?”
“Yes.”
“How’s Ruth?”
“In good shape, Commander.” It was the voice of Ruth Zonis. “Israeli women are tough. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t… Recall procedure. If I signal retreat, drop it all and get into the
Santa Maria
fast. Got that, Lieutenant?
“Yes, Commander.”
Then the fun started. The tiny robots, evidently, had now worked out what a mine-field was and what its function was. They tossed grenades before them as they advanced. The Starbursts registered on the command screens. It was, thought Conrad, like Guy Fawkes Night or the Fourth of July.
A missile suddenly blew a great hole in the defence perimeter. It was followed by another missile making an even larger hole.
Christ, thought Conrad, they are getting ready for the big rush.
“Smith?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Cover the starboard gap.”
“Ay ay.”
“Zonis.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Take the port, Burn anything that moves.”
“Kwango.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Where the hell are you, now?”
“Right behind the little ones, Boss. Range one thousand metres.”
“Are you ready to come in?”
“Yes, Boss. Both ready and willing.”
“Good. They have breached the stockade. Attack expected imminently. I am now going to switch on the lights. I doubt if you’ll have more than forty seconds before they are taken out. Start moving, genius—and start burning.”
Indira reported. “Some have reached the gap, James. I can’t see too clearly, but I think they are trying to set up some kind of machine.”
“Missile launcher, I expect,” returned Conrad. “Take it out, if you can. I’ll give you some light; but you won’t have it for long, I think.”
There was another blast; and another great hole appeared in the wall of the stockade. The
Santa Maria
quivered like a living thing.
It was now or never, thought Conrad. “Lights on!” he radioed and hit the switch.
The floodlights blazed into life. The sudden illumination revealed an amazing sight. There had been far more of the tiny robots than Conrad had suspected. They had several missile launchers; and they were working coolly, methodically, regardless of casualties.
The terrain outside the stockade was dotted with craters where mines had exploded or had been exploded by bombs. Indira and Ruth were pouring laser beams through the breached stockade; and, strangest sight of all, the two great exos operated by Kwango and Khelad were streaking in from the outer darkness like silver giants.
Kwango was among the astonished robots first. He lasered half a dozen before they were aware of his presence. Then he took a mighty leap and landed precisely on top of two of the monkey robots who were hastily swivelling a missile launcher in his direction. He literally stamped the lot into the ground.
“I am de U.S. Cavalry,” he announced to no one in particular, as he lasered another missile group.
Khelad followed close with similar devastating effect. But he was unlucky. A missile blew one of his exo-legs off. He fell down and lasered more robots from the ground for a moment or two. Then, somehow, he got up and started hopping.
Conrad was amazed to see that some of the Kwango magic had rubbed off on Ahmed Khelad. Wherever he hopped, a robot or robots were flattened into the ground.
“The breaches are clear,” reported Lieutenant Smith.
One floodlight erupted in a gout of flame and died.
“Advance and support Kwango and Khelad.”
Another floodlight was taken out.
“Matthew, take over up here. If the vessel is endangered, lift into orbit.”
“Decision noted. Execution proceeds.”
Matthew came up to the nav deck as Conrad grabbed a laser rifle and hurried down to the entry-port. He was dirtside almost before Matthew was at the screens.
Two floodlights remained. One died almost as soon as Conrad had joined Indira and Ruth at the largest breach.
Khelad was still hopping about—devastatingly. Kwango had had both his exo-arms blown off. But, unlike Khelad, he was still busy stamping the enemy into the ground.
“Lieutenant, Zonis, cover them,” said Conrad. “Pretty soon the last light will be out and they will be in trouble.”
Then he radioed: “Kwango, Khelad, you are recalled. Return to the stockade with all possible speed. Support Zonis and Lieutenant Smith in defence of
Santa Maria*
Acknowledge.”
“We are having fun!” protested Kwango.
“When the last light dies,” snapped Conrad acidly, “you will have more fun than you can handle. Execute!”
“Decision noted,” said Kwango in a dreadful imitation of Matthew. “Execution proceeds… Come on, Ahmed. The boss is turning chicken.”
“What next?” asked Indira, with a sudden premonition.
Conrad closed his eye. Then he removed the silver patch that covered his infra-red eye and placed it over the bio-eye. He felt giddy for a moment or two as he registered everything with totally different colour values. He saw red, black, blue and white in the strangest places.