Forever Begins Tomorrow (11 page)

He pushed it again, then screamed.

The scream was involuntary. The robots were designed to inspire fear. Even when you knew what they looked like, the sight of one of them racing down on you out of the darkness, its red eyes flashing, its demonic face lit with a hellish glow, was enough to scare the bravest man.

Roger tried the button one more time, then every other button on the control panel.

Nothing happened.

He tossed the panel aside and ran for his life.

The robot was faster. In seconds it was close enough for several of its tentacles to come snaking out and grab him. Closing around his arms, they snatched him off the floor.

Roger's scream of terror was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of his bones snapping in the robot's grasp.

The Severed Connection

When Roger opened his eyes, he saw the concerned face of Dr. Celia Clark peering down at him. Her thick braid of chestnut hair, dangling past her prominent nose, came perilously close to tickling his ear.

Is she our secret friend?
he thought in astonishment.

Suddenly he realized that he was no longer in the warehouse. He tried to move, then shouted in pain as a lance of fire shot up his arm.

“You're lucky you were still unconscious when I set it,” said Dr. Clark softly. “The effect of bones being snapped back into place can be downright nauseating.”

Roger looked down and groaned. His right arm was encased in a pristine plastic cast. “What happened?” he asked weakly.

Dr. Clark smiled. “You had a close encounter of the worst kind with one of Sergeant Brody's robots.” Roger dropped his head against the bed as the events of the evening began drifting back into his memory. The movement made him wince as another bolt of pain shot along his arm and into his shoulder.

“How bad is it?” he asked, nodding toward the cast. Dr. Clark shrugged. “Multiple fracture of the wrist, lower radius, and ulna. A few years ago you might never have played piano again. But with the new marrow-enrichment techniques, it just means you'll be slowed down for a while.”

“Well, I'm glad I'll be able to play the piano when this comes off,” said Roger, who was never able to resist a joke, no matter how old. “I never could before!”

Dr. Clark smiled. That was exactly the reaction she had been hoping for. While it was clear to her trained eye that her patient was still in shock, it was also obvious that the trauma in the warehouse had not driven him into a shell, as she had feared it might.

Roger heard angry voices in the hall outside. He recognized one as his father's.

“What's going on out there?”

Dr. Clark glanced at him as she inserted a long needle into a vial of clear liquid. “I think your father's having a fit. Brace yourself. This won't hurt long.”

“What is it?” asked Roger, eyeing the needle nervously.

“Painkiller,” replied Dr. Clark as she plunged the needle into his shoulder.

“Ouch! How's it supposed to work—by making my shoulder hurt so much I forget my arm?”

“Don't be cranky. If you had been at home minding your own business, none of this would have happened to begin with.”

Roger was working on a suitable response when Rachel poked her head through the door. “Can we come in?”

Dr. Clark nodded, then turned to busy herself cleaning up some equipment. Hap and Rachel slid into the room and came to stand by Roger's side.

“How is it?” asked Rachel, nodding toward his arm.

“Sore.”

Rachel's response was interrupted by another outburst from the corridor.

“Boy, your dad is really on a rampage,” said Hap. “He's chewing Hwa and Brody up one side and down the other.”

Roger grinned.

“Don't get too cocky,” said Rachel. “I think we're next—and that includes you, O wounded warrior. He is not a happy pappy.” Leaning closer to him, she whispered urgently,
“So did you find out who it is?”

Roger shook his head. “We were interrupted before we even started to talk.” He glanced around. “How did I get here, anyway?”

Hap looked grim. “As soon as that robot started screaming, or whatever you call that noise they make, we came running into the warehouse.”

“Both of you?”

“Of course!” said Rachel.

Roger shook his head. “That wasn't the plan…” His voice trailed off as he caught the haunted look in Hap's eyes. He could almost read the thoughts going through his friend's mind:
I should never have let him go in there alone. I should have been with him
.

“Hap,” he said firmly. “Listen to me: Other than the fact that it might be you lying here now instead of me, it would not have made a bit of difference if you had been there. And since you're the best physical specimen we have, it's just as well it was me anyway. So drum that crap about guilt out of your head right now, okay?” He stared into Hap's eyes, willing him to understand that what he had just said was true.

The moment of tense silence was broken when Hap shrugged and said, “Okay, I believe you.”

He didn't entirely, of course. But he felt better for what his friend had said.

“Then go on with the story,” said Roger.

“There's not too much more to tell,” said Rachel. “About the time we hit the door every light in the place came blazing on, and Brody came rushing in with some of his men.”

Hap actually smiled. “You should have seen the look on the sarge's face! I think he figured he had caught some real desperado. Then he spotted you hanging from that robot's arms looking like you were dead, and he knew he was going to end up in the soup one way or another. His jaw almost hit the floor.”

Roger laughed.

“It wasn't quite so funny at the time,” said Rachel solemnly. “I didn't know what shape you were in, either.”

Roger winced at the pain in his sister's voice.

“But you should have heard her after she figured out you were still alive,” said Hap proudly. “I'm surprised she didn't blister Brody's skin right off him. ‘Mindless brute' and ‘gutter-crawling slime bag' were the
nicest
things she had to say.”

“I was upset,” said Rachel, blushing a little.

“What I can't understand is why this happened to begin with,” said Roger. “I checked the battery in that robot control unit just two days ago. There's no way it should have been down so soon.”

“The battery didn't fail you,” said Rachel. “They changed the robot's programming.”

“Wonderful,” said Roger. “I was a victim of technology. How did you find that out?”

“We heard it while the grown-ups were yelling at each other,” said Hap.

“Dr. Hwa's dragging out everything he can think of to try to quiet Dad down,” added Rachel, by way of explanation. “It turns out that after Wendy commandeered the whole fleet of robots during the Euterpe caper, Brody decided something
had
to be done.”

Hap chuckled. “The sarge couldn't stand the idea of
us
telling
his
robots what to do.”

“Never mind the fact that if she
hadn't
been able to do that, I'd be an orbiting corpse right now,” said Rachel. She made a sound of disgust. “If Brody worried as much about real security problems as he worries about us, this island would be a lot better off.”

“Sergeant Brody is a meathead,” said Dr. Clark, who had been listening to the last part of this. “You kids are nice and visible, so he spends his energy on you. The idiot wouldn't know a real spy if he fell over one.” She walked back to the examination table where Roger was lying and held out a white tablet. “Here. Take this.”

“What is it?”

Dr. Clark sighed. “I sometimes think if I ever have children I would prefer the kind who are so stupid it never occurs to them to ask questions. This is a newly synthesized hormone that will make your bones knit faster. Do you want it? Or would you prefer to live with your cast for a full six weeks?”

“I was just curious,” said Roger, reaching for the tablet.

“So was Alice. And look where it got her: stuck down a rabbit hole.”

“True,” conceded Roger. “But she had a lot of fun along the way. Besides, Alice will live forever.”

“I sincerely doubt that you will be so lucky,” replied the chestnut-haired scientist. “In fact, at the rate you're going, I would consider making it through to the end of the year a real victory. Now take your pill. I've got work to do.”

With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared through a door at the back of the treatment room.

Roger looked at the tablet and wondered vaguely if Dr. Clark might be the spy, and was using this as a way to kill him off.

Stop being paranoid!
he ordered himself.
Besides, she's too tall and has the wrong color hair
.

He tossed the pill into his mouth and turned to Rachel. “So just what did they do with the robots?” he asked, returning to the original question.

“They gave them to ADAM.”

“Say what?”

“They worked out some device so that the robots only respond to commands issued by the main computer—via shortwave radio broadcasts, of all things. Brody's control panels send a message to the computer, then the computer verifies it before issuing the command to the robots.”

“Well, that system shouldn't be too hard to break,” said Roger. “After all, we're on pretty good terms with ADAM ourselves.”

Rachel shook her head. “Not this good. Every morning the computer randomly generates a new fifteen-digit number, which is given to the
official
control units by plugging them directly into the mainframe. Only units first broadcasting that number get a response from the computer.”

Roger shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Fifteen digits! That's a quadrillion possible access codes! They're really getting nasty, aren't they?”

“Not nearly as nasty as I feel,” said Dr. Phillips, stepping into the room.

Roger groaned. His father's face had
lecture
written all over it.

While Dr. Phillips was expressing his opinion of the evening's activities, the person the gang had come to think of as “MF” (for “Mysterious Friend”) huddled in a steaming shower and tried to stop trembling. What a close call that had been!

The trembling was not caused solely by fear. News of Roger's mishap had reached the MF through the island communications system. With it had come a heavy burden of guilt.

I shouldn't have left him!

Turning off the shower, the damp figure grabbed a large, thick towel.
But I really did believe the kids had the robot situation under control. Otherwise I wouldn't have taken off as I did!

MF sighed. Pleasant as it would have been to believe that, it really wasn't true. Capture at this point was unthinkable, and no matter how appalling it might be, the fact was that the mission took precedence over the life of a single teenager. The world had too much at stake to let sentimental concern for an individual stand in the way of what had to be done.

That may be. But it's still important that I alert the kids to the identity of the enemy before I leave the island tomorrow. That communications blackout may have slowed down Black Glove, but it's certainly made my job harder, too. And they're the only ones who can keep an eye on things until I get back
.

For probably the tenth time in as many days the gang's unknown friend made a mental note to find out who had left Sergeant Brody in charge of security for Anza-bora Island.
Whoever it was, I'll have the nitwit's head on a platter when this is all over!

Then MF stretched out on the bed and began a series of relaxation exercises. A little sleep was a necessity right now. Tomorrow was going to be a real challenge.

“So, what did your father have to say?” asked Wendy the following afternoon, when the group had once again gathered at their headquarters.

“It would be easier to tell you what he left out,” said Roger with a sigh. “Which was basically nothing. I'm thinking of contacting the
Guinness Collection of Records
to see if I can get dad listed in their next edition for having made the longest nonstop lecture ever given to a kid.”

“My circuits are still in a jangle,” said Paracelsus.

“I can't believe I missed all the action,” said Trip. “I wish I'd been there!”

“Forget it,” said Hap. “This was not one of your all-time fun evenings. Other than having your parents decide to cancel your freedom to ever leave the house again as long as you live, I doubt your presence would have changed much.”

Trip sighed. It wasn't easy being the most “protected” kid in the group.

“Don't feel bad,” said Roger. “You're not the only one on a short leash. My father's on the verge of canceling my right to breathe.”

“My
parents told me how pleased they were that I was home in bed where I belonged,” said Ray, sounding disgusted. “I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You have to train them better, Ray,” said the Wonderchild. “Now, in my case—”

She was interrupted by the buzzer that indicated a message coming in on the computer.

“This should be interesting,” said Rachel. “Everybody who's supposed to know the direct access code for that terminal is already here. So it's got to be either our mysterious enemy—or our mysterious friend!”

It turned out to be the latter..

“Greetings,” said the message that appeared on the monitor. “First, my apologies for last night. I thought you had the robot situation under control.”

“So did we,” said Roger ruefully. As he spoke, he adjusted the sling that held his cast-laden arm in place.

“Quiet!” said Hap. “I want to read this.”

The computer continued to print the message word by word—an indication that it was being typed even as they read it.