Space For Hire (Seven For Space) (10 page)

Now it's KublaKane. The Robot King bought it outright, tore down the public housing units, and built his own private fortress there, complete with dragon. Frankly, it was the dragon that worried me. I sincerely hoped to avoid him.

I'd played it dumb back in Rim City. I should have pumped Kid Smiley for info on the Kane layout before I cooled him. I had no way at this point of finding out the floor plan of the fortress. The only way to reach Esma was to run a heavy bluff. I'd mastered the low rasp which had dominated the Kid's voice, and if I said only what I had to and remembered to look dour I felt sure I could pass.

I was packing ample firepower: I had the Kid's gun under my travelcoat, along with my .38, and a sawed-off .60-20 Lowder-Losenby laserbeam TX, with reversible chambers, looped around my neck with the flexible barrel tip stuffed into my belt in back. A .60-20 will stop a Ganymede Gorebeast at full gallop, and those babies take some stopping.

I stripped my pressure suit in the tube leading to KublaKane and stepped toward the first guard. Like all of Kane's synthetics, he wore regulation KK black skintights with a beltweapon and bootsword.

He braced me with a hand on his weapon. "Your identity and your business."

"I work for your boss," I said in the Kid's rasping voice. "Put me on a visual scan and you'll see I'm legit."

I was ready to flash a doctored faxdisc if I had to but wearing the Kid's mug I figured I could pass a scan. If I couldn't, it was time to find out.

The black syntho adjusted his coned gatescanner and thumbed life into it. An identibeam picked me out. Gears whirred and clicked. The scanner gave its verdict: "Identity known and recognized. Smiley, Kid. Admit."

The guard took his hand off his beltweapon and nodded me through. Zaadar had done a remarkable plasto job and my new face had passed its first test.

For better or worse, I was inside Kane's kingdom.

* * *

His castle fortress was easy to spot, thrusting up from the circle of bubblehuts like a great stone fist. I marveled at the effort Kane had put into its construction. He'd even created his own mountain on which to base the castle, utilizing countless tons of Mercury crater rock. The fortress was modeled on the ancient medieval castles of Earth — which was not surprising, since medieval Earth-history was Kane's hobby. A wide moat, filled with bubbling, boiling lava, encircled the huge structure and a long, winding road climbed up to a massive drawbridge.

My next problem centered on getting that drawbridge lowered, since I'm not much for swimming through boiling lava.

The village below the castle was crowded with identical synthetics, moving in a flow of activity. I tensed, expecting a challenge, but I was ignored. I'd passed the gatescanner, which meant I was supposed to be here; thus, unless an alarm went off, none of the synthos would question me.

I walked swiftly past the ring of bubblehuts which fringed the castle, gaining more confidence with each step. The road up was steep and pebbled, and ended at the moat's edge. Directly below me, lava hissed and bubbled.

I waited, looking dour, watching the drawbridge. A small slidepanel opened in the middle of the raised bridge and a metallic voice boomed across the moat, "Hold and state your reason for entry."

"I'm on Kane's business," I replied. "I possess custodial authority for the prisoner in the South Tower."

"Your name?"

"Smiley, Kid."

"Name of prisoner?"

"Umani, Esma."

The slidedoor closed and I waited, sweating.

I'd done some careful checking before coming to Mercury in order to make certain that Kane was not at his fortress. I'd been able to establish the fact that he was away visiting one of his robot onion farms on Venus. Secondly, I'd forged his name and official stamp on a faxdisc which gave me custody over Esma. I'm a fair hand at forgery; it's an asset in my business.

Creaking and groaning in authentic medieval fashion, the huge drawbridge began to lower itself. Down it came, slamming flush with the road edge. I walked across, radiating surly impatience.

Two of Kane's synthetics flanked the inside gate, weapons at the ready. "Your authority," demanded one of them.

I handed him the phony faxdisc. "I'm under orders to transfer the prisoner to our Deimos base," I rasped.

"Why weren't we informed beforehand?" The synthetic's eyes were beady with suspicion.

"This was a last-minute decision. That's why Kane gave me his personal disc. You can see that." I curled my lip, which was as close asked Smiley ever got to a smile. "Do you want trouble from Kane? If you do, I'll see that you get it."

That shook him. He handed back the disc and waved me past.

The heavy portcullis was raised and I entered the castle.

It was perfect to the smallest detail. Bronze Greek and Roman statues, magnificent hanging tapestries, great mounted scrolled shields, frescoed walls, wood mosaics … Kane had lavished a fortune here. Every item in the castle contributed to the total authenticity he demanded.

But which way was the South Tower? This is where Kid Smiley's info would have paid off. We all have lessons to learn — and I'd have to learn not to be so damn fast on the kill.

I turned to an impassive castle guard. He was outfitted in full medieval armor and carried a broadsword. I tapped on his visor. It opened.

"I'm here on Kane's business," I said. "I shall require an escort to the South Tower. Lead me there."

Simple. The armored guard clanked heavily off down a corridor without a word of argument.

So far, so good. My crazy plan might work after all.

And to hell with fire-breathing dragons!

We snake-trailed down endless stone hallways, under high and low arches, through a cobbled courtyard — in which several of Kane's castle guards were jousting with sword and lance — and climbed what must have amounted to a thousand stone steps. By the time we reached the massive iron-studded door to the South Tower room I was breathing hard and the muscles in my legs were aching. The synthetic, despite his heavy body armor, was calm and relaxed. "Here we are, at your declared destination. Do you wish me to wait for you?"

"No. Go back to your post," I told him.

His visor snapped shut and he clanked away down the twist of stone stairs.

I tried the door. It was barred. I banged on the wood with my fist. Waited. Banged again.

Was Esma alive in there?

Muffled sounds inside the room told me it was occupied. A lock rattled under a key; a heavy bolt slid back with a screech of metal. The door inched open and a bulky black synthetic filled the space, holding a belt-weapon.

"I'm here to take charge of the prisoner," I said.

"Under what authority?"

"Ronfoster Kane's personal directive." I showed him the faxdisc. He belted his weapon and allowed me to enter.

The room smelled of sweat and damp straw. Guttering candles supplied the only light. Esma was chained to the stone wall in a standing posture, totally nude, arms and legs spread. Her three heads were secured by wide metal neckbands which had been driven into the stone with spikes. Her eyes were all closed. And she'd been roughed: her body was bruised and dirt-caked.

"Release her," I ordered.

There were two other synthetics in the chamber and they hesitated.

"Unspike her! She goes with me."

The doorguard flicked his eyes, which was apparently a go-ahead, since the other two got busy on the chains.

"You're one of the three Loonies who brought her here," the door-guard said coldly. "I remember your face."

"That's right," I said.

"We were told that Kane wanted her retained in the Tower. What caused him to change plans?"

"That's not your worry," I rasped. "Just do your job and keep your yap shut."

He didn't like that much. His jaw tightened and his synthoeyes radiated black anger. But he kept his yap shut.

After a great deal of hammering the other two bozos had Esma out of her chains. She was limp in their arms as they carried her to a straw-covered bench.

I walked over and pinched several of her cheeks. Then I slapped two of her faces, hard, stinging slaps. I had to wake her up fast and get her moving.

Esma began to come round, groggily blinking her six eyes.

"C'mon, wake up, sister," I snapped. "We've got to go for a little ride, you and me."

"Just where are you taking her?" the big boy at the door wanted to know.

"Callisto," I said.

There was an ominous silence.

"That's not the right answer."

I swung toward him. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean you told the gate watch you were taking her to Deimos base. I know because that information was vidphoned to us here in the Tower."

"I can explain that," I said, walking over to him. When I got close enough I slammed a hard right into his stomach.

Which was a mistake. Synthetics don't have stomachs. Instead of doubling over he swung a crushing fist into my face. I staggered back as he reached for his belt-weapon to finish me. The other two guards were also going for their weapons.

I snapped the .38 out of my coat and knocked the pair of them down with my first two shots; my third missed the doorguard who had lunged sideways and dropped behind the table.

His beltgun blazed and a section of wall just above my head exploded into stone fragments.

I didn't give him a second chance to kill me; my next shot ripped into his chest and he flopped back, the gun spilling from his dead hand.

I holstered my .38 and turned to Esma. She was wide awake by now, and terrified. "Are you going to kill me? Did Kane send you to kill me?"

I knelt beside here and used my normal voice. "Listen to me, Miss Umani. I'm Sam Space, the operative you hired on Mars. I had a plasto give me this face in order to penetrate the castle. I've come to take you out of here. Are you strong enough to walk?"

"Yes, yes I think so." She gave me a warm triple smile. "Your nose is all crooked."

I felt it. She was right. The doorguard's fist had knocked it cockeyed. I'd been warned by Zaadar not to get hit in the kisser. Damn! This made things worse for us.

"Forget my nose," I said. "Can you make it?"

"I'm sure I can."

"Good. Let's start — because right now we're smack in the middle of the lion's mouth and I want to get us out before the jaws close."

Usually, when you make a run for it, you wait until dark. But it was no use waiting for dark in this case, since Mercury's day is twice as long as its year. We'd have to chance a sunlight run.

No alarms had gone off or the place would have been swimming in guards, so we still had a fair shot at clearing the castle before anybody discovered the three stiffed synthos.

I used the heavy brass key from the doorguard's belt to lock up behind us as we left. A locked door might buy us some extra time.

Esma was wobbling, leaning on the wall for support. But she managed the steps down okay. I'd found a guardsman's silk cloak for her to wear and she looked regal in it. Esma was a beautiful example of Venusian womanhood but this wasn't the time or place for me to do anything about it.

I was reminded of the lewd Venusian joke which was taglined: "and that's why three heads are better than one." I was nine the first time I'd heard it, on Earth, and it didn't mean much back then. Now I chuckled, remembering it.

"What's funny?" Esma wanted to know.

"Nothing," I told her. "Keep moving."

On the floor of the castle, with the steps safely behind us, I realized we were lost. "How do we find our way back to the gate?"

"Didn't you just come from there?"

"Sure" I said. "But a tin soldier led me. I sent him packing."

"Ask another guard to help us. They don't know anything's wrong."

"Can't," I said. "Not with this crooked beak. They'd begin to ask questions I wouldn't be able to answer. I'll try and retrace the way back."

"Do you think you'll be able to?"

"I've gotta try. Let's go."

We began moving through more of the castle's endless arched hallways. I thought the ones we were taking seemed familiar but I couldn't be sure since each stone hallway looked just like every other one in this damned place.

"I think we're doing all right," said Esma. "I remember they took me through here. I'm sure we're headed for the gate."

She was steadier now and had regained much of her strength and spirit; tripleheads are a tough breed.

Then I spotted the courtyard just ahead.

"Our luck is holding," I told her. "I remember how to go from the courtyard."

We crossed it quickly. Most of the jousting guards had drifted off and only a half dozen remained, banging at each other with battle axes which rang like bells against the guards' bronze shields.

"They're too busy to notice us," whispered Esma's nearest head.

She was right. We made it across without incident.

"I'm starved," sighed Esma, as we neared the great dining hall of the castle. "Couldn't we take a detour in there?"

"I could use some grub myself," I said.

The dining hall was deserted. The long table was stocked with bowls of ripe, tempting fruit. While Esma packed apples and pears into the flared pockets of her cape I filled two fat crystal goblets from the wine barrel near the end of the table.

"Drink hearty!" I grinned.

Hurriedly, our eyes on the entrance, we ate and drank. The wine was bracing and the pears were delicious. Robogardens and pseudovine-yards paid off for Kane and, at the moment, I was glad that he enjoyed the finer things in life.

We kept moving.

More hallways. Corridors. Rooms with medieval furniture, with paintings of dukes and earls and kings. Italian nearmarble floors. Stone fireplaces with stuffed boars' heads mounted above them.

And, finally, the outer portcullis.

To shield my displaced nose I pretended to be blowing it. I kept my head down as we were passed through; the drawbridge was lowered and we crossed over.

"Sam, we
made
it!" exclaimed Esma, as the drawbridge was raised behind us.