Look Out For Space (Seven For Space) (10 page)

"Your robo's wonked out," I said. "He tried to eat my hat."

Wrenhurst pressed a wallstud. Three Moonies popped in to carry away the smoking robo.

Wrenhurst sighed. "Hard to get good help these days. My robos keep breaking down. Moondust gets into their solenoids. Next thing you know they're out of sync. Last week the robo gardener, a very loyal machine I've had in the family for years, tried to plant Charlie, my favorite electronic wolfhound. Thought Charlie was a cactus. I had him disconnected."

"The wolfhound?"

"No, the gardener. Charlie's fine. He's in the kitchen right now, chewing on an electric bone."Wrenhurst chuckled. "He's all solid state. Not a tube in him."

"I can see you're devoted to Charlie."

"A man and his dog," said Wrenhurst, shaking his vulpine head. "Potent combination. As old as recorded civilization. There's a primitive emotional bond between a man and his dog that no scientist will ever be able to explain."

"Yeah," I said. " A man and his rabbit just isn't the same thing."

"Not at all," agreed Wrenhurst somberly, "not at all."

Small talk is always the first step in winning confidence. And, with the king, I was doing aces.

He led me to the party.

It was wild. A gastropod from the Lower Pleiades was chasing a giggling skinhead behind the bar, and three gasbags from Neptune were drunkenly deflating on the center dance floor.

In the nearest cubbycorner a pair of lust-crazed young Martians were probe-rubbing each other into a norxca state. Last time I'd seen anything like that in public was aboard the
President Agnew
on the Mars-Earth run.

But I was no prude. In my game, shock is a luxury you can't afford.

A multi-nosed Dogstar female with puce scuppers approached me, eyes aglint. "Hidey hi, hi!" she said, bumping a scupper against my leg."My name's Looly, and I adore fast male Earthlings. I almost orged when I saw you win that race. You were absolutely
winkers
out there at speed!"

"My boat blew up," I said. "So I didn't really win. Mr. Wrenhurst must be considered the official victor."

"Wrenhurst can go frab!" she said darkly.

"I thought you adored fast male Earthlings."

She rubbed the other scupper suggestively against me. "Only when they're nice, like you," she husked. "And Pendorf isn't nice at all! We've sexed together and I can tell you, he's
perverted.
"

"How so?" Maybe, in her drunken state of abandon, she might provide some tad of inside info I could use against the king.

"He asked me to perform an unnatural act with his electronic wolf-hound."

"Charlie?"

She grimaced, and two of her noses twitched. "Yes, that's the name of the shaggy beast."

"What did he want you to do?"

"Get down on the floor and chew electric bones with the hound," she said. "Ugh! Isn't that revolting?"

"And probably dangerous," I said. "Bet you could sustain quite a nasty shock from an electric bone if you bit deep enough."

"Wrenhurst is also a sadist," she declared. "He's got this little box of electronic fleas he bought on the gray market and he asked me to sprinkle some on Charlie's backside. Just to see him scratch!"

"That's revolting, all right," I said. Her mentioning the market told me I might be getting somewhere.

"Pendorf's pretty chummy with the market, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure," she nodded. "He's deep into it, as buyer
and
supplier."

"What does he supply?"

"Worms mostly," she said. "He's got a whole rack full of orders for slave worms in his faxden upstairs. That's where he tried to get me to chew bones with that disgusting hound of his."

Paydirt
!

"Where's the den?"

"Third landing. End of the hall. He keeps a tough robo posted to guard the place. But the day he took me there he gave the robo the afternoon off. Said he wanted to be left undisturbed." She looked at me intently. "I've often wondered about that, Mr. Steadman …"

"Wondered what?'

"About just what a robo does on his afternoons off. I mean, what's there to
do
if you're a lousy machine?"

"Maybe he gets his screws oiled," I cracked.

This nonsensical bit of whimsy broke her up. She fell into a finger-sofa, howling with glee. Doesn't take much to get a Dogstar female hysterical. They just can't hold their booze.

I left Looly on the sofa and eased toward the stairbelt. Third landing. End of the hall … This caper was working out better than I'd hoped.

I knew that I'd have to get past the "tough robo" Looly had mentioned before I could check out Wrenhurst's faxden.

And she was right, he
was
tough looking: a big naked seven-footer with polished metal studs covering his wide body. All the servant robos wore clothing but this was a warrior-robo, and they aren't supposed to look civilized.

He carried a lasergun strapped to his thigh and his knuckles were spiked. When I walked back to him he had his fat metal arms folded across his chest.

"Hello, there," I said, smiling up at him.

"Good evening, sir," he said.

This one had a face — or, rather, he had a large scanner eye in the middle of his skullcase, with a small grill under it for his speakbox.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"I do not require a name," he said.

"Number?"

"K-84000723116. But I doubt that you will be able to remember it, sir. Most humans are incapable of retaining complex numerical sequences for more than a few seconds. Thus, if you wish to address me as K, I shall respond to that cognomen."

"Are you always on guard here, K?"

"Yes, sir. Always."

"Well …" I chuckled. "I happen to know of at least one occasion when you were given the day off."

"That is correct, sir. The master himself told me I was not needed at my post. I returned to the downstairs workroom where I sat in total darkness for several hours."

"Bet that pissed you off, eh?"

"If you mean that you are willing to wager that I was, in slang terms, annoyed at having to sit for several hours in total darkness, sir, then you will be ill advised to place the bet."

"Meaning you
weren't
pissed off?"

"That is correct, sir. Actually, I found the experience quite soothing."

As we were gabbing I slipped a small silver disc from my vented snugcrotch and began idly spinning it in my hand.

"You seem to be pretty self-sufficient."

"Totally, sir. I never require food or sleep. And I am fully self-repairing. In that respect, I am very expensive. Most robos are
not
self-repairing."

"Yeah, I know. I ran into one that went blooie in the hallway. Tried to eat my hat."

"I would
never
do that, sir. I might crush you to death in seconds, or impale you on my spiked knuckles, or send a laserbolt through your brain, but I would never attack your hat."

The disc kept spinning in my hand.

"I would resort to extreme measures only in the event of your attempting to force your way into the master's faxden. That is my job, sir. To guard."

"Oh, sure. I see what you mean. But frankly, you don't sound as if you have much fun out of life."

"I was not designed to have fun, sir," the big robo said. "I was designed to be a warrior-guard. I do not require fun."

He hadn't moved. His arms were still folded. But his eye scanner was now fixed on the spinning disc in my hand.

"Don't you ever get bored standing here?"

"I do not require mental stimulation or physical excitation, sir."

"Do you ever play chess with yourself? I know a lot of machines do that." The disc flickered silver across his metal faceplate.

"No, sir … I …" A moment of silence. Then: "Sir?"

"Yes, K."

"That …
object
… in your hand …"

"What about it?"

"It is … having … a strange … effect … on … on my …"

"On your
what
, K?" I asked.

The disc spun faster."On my … equilibrium … sir."

"Oh? Do you feel dizzy?" I brought the disc closer to his skull.

"Disoriented would … be the word … sir … I … can't seem to …"

"Perhaps you are tired. That is, in fact, what you
are,
K. You are tired. Very,
very
tired."

The robo's arms unfolded and fell to his sides. "But … I … am never … tired … sir …"

"
Now
you are, K. Tired. So very, very tired. You have been standing here too long. You wish to rest. Lie down and rest, K."

"I … never …"

"Repeat after me," I said firmly. "I … am … tired."

The robo swayed slightly. "I … am … tired."

I moved closer to him. "I … wish … to … rest."

His scanner was locked onto the silver disc. "I … wish … to … rest."

"I … will … go … inside … the … faxden … and … rest."

He said all that. Then, slowly, he turned, unlocked the door, and entered the den.

I was right behind him."Over there," I said, shutting the door. "That couch. You … will … rest … there."

"I … will … rest … there." And he settled his big metal frame into the flowcouch, all seven feet of him stretching out like a sleepy kid. His scanner blacked. He was inactive. I'd hypnotized my first robot!

* * *

With K conked out on the couch, I had free access to the tall faxfile near Wrenhurst's desk. I was sure that all of his worm contracts were in there. Maybe, just maybe, I'd uncover enough dope to tie in the missing asteroids with the insect kidnappings. If so, I could take my proof to O'Malley and lock up the case. Giving full credit to Pennington, the copmouse, naturally. Without Sylvester's lead and his mouse fund money I wouldn't
be
here.

Just for the hell of it, I tried drawer "W" first. "W" for worms. And, right off, I found a fat plasfile of worm slave orders. I thumbed them quickly. Just what I needed.

Now, for the "A" and "I" drawers. Asteroids and insects.

I was in the "A" drawer when the dendoor opened.

Wrenhurst was there. With the vanishing redhead from Bubble City.

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Space?" He was aiming a .370 trigrip Blazebeamer at me. I slid the drawer closed with a sappy grin. "Just looking for a fresh Kleenex," I said.

Wrenhurst frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"It's an Earthtissue," clarified the redhead. "Circa 20th century."

"Okay," I said. "So you know who I am and why I'm here. Thanks to your hard-nippled little friend.
Now
what?"

"Tomorrow's Moonpape will carry a headline story," Wrenhurst informed me. "'RACING SPORTSMAN DIES.' The subhead will read: 'Tyrus Steadman Victim of Tragic Accident.'"

"And just what tragic accident am I to be a victim of?"

"Having reduced yourself to a drunken condition, you wandered beyond the safe confines of the mansion grounds and fell into a deep Moonpit."

"How clumsy of me."

"Unfortunately, your body was not recoverable, since it was instantly dissolved by the corrosive lime within the pit."

"Meaning you never have to prove
how
I died."

Wrenhurst advanced to the sleeping robo and examined him, still keeping the Blazebeamer on me.

"He's out cold," I said. "Just laid down on the job."

"You are a clever man, Mr. Space."

"
Was.
I fell into a lime pit tonight, remember?"

Wrenhurst's vulpine face took on a glow. "Actually, that particular fate is not to befall you."

"I'm relieved. I bet that out of the kindness of your heart you're just going to let me walk out of here, right?"

"I have an alternate plan in which you shall also die, of course, but in a more protracted manner. I'm sending you away, Mr. Space."

"To where?"

"Don't tell him, Wrenny," the redhead said. She cat-smiled. "Let it be a surprise."

Wrenhurst nodded. "A surprise it shall be." He moved away from the couch. "Let us just say that I intend to put you … out of circulation."

"Okay," I said. "But I'd like to ask about your redhaired dolly. How long have you known her?"

Wrenhurst looked amused. He stroked her hair and leaned to bestow a tender kiss on her left nipple."As a matter of fact, I just met this ravishing creature. An unexpected guest. She arrived rather … abruptly … to reveal your true identity."

"Uh huh," I said. "And I bet she leaves the same way. Rather abruptly. Ten to one, after I'm dumped, you'll turn around and, zingo, she'll be gone. I wouldn't count on a long romance."

"Don't listen to him, Wrenny," whispered the redhead. "Just get rid of him."

"That is my intention," said Wrenhurst gently. He walked over to me, raised the Blazebeamer and brought it down on my head.

My lights went out.

Wrenhurst wasn't bluffing. When he vowed to put me "out of circulation" he meant exactly that. But it took me a while to find just how
far
out.

After my head cleared, the first thing I saw was what you usually see
before
your head clears: total blackness.

I sat up stiffly, blinking into the dark, trying to fathom where I was and how long I'd been out. But I drew a blank. Then I heard what sounded like an Earthrhino grunting and I felt the hair rise along my neck. Whatever was making the grunting sound was right here with me, wherever
that
was. In other words, wherever
I
was,
it
was. And damn close, too. Within a few feet of me.

I stood up very slowly, hoping to get my back against a wall so that at least I would be
facing
the thing if it came at me. I moved forward, a slow step at a time, my hands extended into the darkness, feeling for the wall.

What if I
stepped
on the lousy grunter? That was an unsettling thought, but I was compelled to keep trying for the wall. I just
had
to have something solid behind me; natural human instinct, I guess.